Honestly, Luc Besson is a bit of a madman. When you look at his filmography, you see the highs of The Professional and the neon-soaked insanity of The Fifth Element, but somewhere in the middle of his career, he decided to adapt a cult-classic French comic strip about a snarky journalist and a pterodactyl. That movie is Adèle y el misterio de la momia (or Les Aventures extraordinaires d'Adèle Blanc-Sec if you want to be fancy about it).
It’s weird. It’s messy. It’s quintessentially French.
If you haven’t seen it, the plot feels like someone threw a history textbook, a fantasy novel, and a slapstick comedy into a blender. It’s 1912 Paris. There is a 136-million-year-old egg hatching in a museum. There are mummies taking tea. And at the center of it all is Louise Bourgoin playing Adèle, a woman who basically refuses to be impressed by anything, including the supernatural.
What most people get wrong about Adèle
People often try to pitch this as the "French Indiana Jones." That is a lazy comparison. While Indy is out there punching Nazis and dodging boulders, Adèle is usually more concerned with finding a cure for her catatonic sister or making sure her hat stays pinned on straight while she rides a flying reptile.
The film isn't trying to be a gritty action flick. It’s a love letter to the bande dessinée (BD) culture of France. Specifically, it’s based on the work of Jacques Tardi. Tardi’s world is cynical, gritty, and deeply detailed. Besson, however, polished it up. He gave it a bright, Belle Époque sheen that makes Paris look like a postcard from a fever dream.
Some critics at the time of its 2010 release felt the tonal shifts were too jarring. One minute you have a tragic backstory involving a tennis accident—yes, a tennis accident—and the next, you have a digital pterodactyl terrorizing the Prefect of Police. But that’s the point. The film lives in that uncomfortable, whimsical space where logic takes a backseat to style.
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The plot: Mummies, Medicine, and Mad Science
The core of Adèle y el misterio de la momia revolves around a very specific goal. Adèle travels to Egypt to find the mummified physician of Pharaoh Ramesses II. Why? Because she believes that if she can find a way to bring the doctor back to life, he can use his ancient medical knowledge to save her sister, Agathe.
Agathe has a long pin stuck in her brain. It happened during a tennis match. It sounds ridiculous because it is.
Back in Paris, a scientist named Esperandieu has figured out how to project his psychic energy to hatch that aforementioned pterodactyl egg. This connection between the psychic and the prehistoric creates a chaotic backdrop for Adèle’s return. The movie spends a surprising amount of time on the bureaucracy of Paris and the incompetence of the police force, led by the perpetually hungry Inspector Caponi.
The mummies themselves are a highlight. When they finally wake up, they aren't the groaning, bandaged monsters from Universal Horror movies. They are sophisticated, multilingual, and slightly bored academics. The scene where they wander through the Louvre, critiquing the new renovations and the "small" size of the pyramids, is arguably the best part of the whole film. It subverts every trope about "the mummy's curse" by making the mummies the most civilized people in the room.
The visual language of Tardi vs. Besson
Jacques Tardi’s original comics are much darker than the movie. If you pick up one of the volumes, like Adèle et la Bête, you’ll notice a lot of heavy shadows and a sense of impending doom. Tardi’s Adèle is also a bit more of a misanthrope.
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Besson’s version is more of a populist spectacle.
The costume design is incredible. You have these massive, architectural hats and corsets that look like they belong in a museum. The cinematography uses a warm, golden palette that contrasts with the grey, stony streets of Paris. It’s a very tactile movie. You can almost smell the dust in the museum and the dampness of the sewers.
Why it didn't become a massive global franchise
You’d think a movie with monsters, mummies, and a charismatic lead would spawn ten sequels. It didn't. While it did okay in France and gained a cult following in places like Spain and Mexico (hence the enduring popularity of the title Adèle y el misterio de la momia), it never quite cracked the US market.
Part of that is the "Besson tax." International audiences sometimes struggle with his specific blend of high-budget visuals and low-brow humor. There’s a scene involving a guillotine that is played entirely for laughs, which might feel "off" to someone expecting a standard Disney adventure.
Also, the ending. Without spoiling the specifics, it ends on a massive cliffhanger that involves the Titanic. Since we never got a sequel, that ending remains one of the most frustrating "what ifs" in European cinema. It was ambitious, perhaps too ambitious for its own good.
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The technical side: Early 2010s CGI
Looking back at the film now, the CGI pterodactyl has aged... let's say "interestingly." In 2010, it was decent. Today, it looks a bit like a high-end video game asset from two console generations ago. But oddly, it works. Because the movie is so stylized and "comic-booky," the slightly artificial look of the creatures fits the aesthetic. It’s not trying to be Avatar. It’s trying to be a moving illustration.
Actionable insights for fans and newcomers
If you're planning to dive into the world of Adèle y el misterio de la momia, don't just stop at the movie. To really appreciate what Besson was doing (and where he deviated), you have to look at the source.
- Read the Tardi Comics: Look for the English translations by Fantagraphics. They are grittier, weirder, and provide a much deeper look into Adèle’s cynical worldview.
- Watch the Director's Cut: If you can find the French Blu-ray, the colors and textures are much better than the compressed versions found on some streaming services.
- Check out Louise Bourgoin’s other work: She was a weather presenter before she was an actress, and she brings a very specific "live-wire" energy to the role that carries the film through its slower moments.
- Don't expect a sequel: Just accept the Titanic cliffhanger for what it is—a cheeky nod to history and a sign of a franchise that flew a bit too close to the sun.
The film remains a strange, beautiful outlier in the world of adventure cinema. It’s not perfect. The pacing is erratic, and the humor is sometimes an acquired taste. But in a world of cookie-cutter superhero movies, there is something deeply refreshing about a movie where a woman in a giant hat rides a pterodactyl over the Eiffel Tower just to save her sister from a tennis injury.
To get the most out of the experience, watch it in the original French with subtitles. The comedic timing of the French language fits the dry, sarcastic tone of the characters far better than the dubbed versions. Focus on the production design of the prison and the museum; these sets were built with an obsession for detail that you rarely see anymore.
Finally, pay attention to the score by Éric Serra. He’s Besson’s longtime collaborator, and his music here is whimsical without being sugary. It’s the glue that holds the disparate parts of the movie together. Once you’ve finished the film, look up the "making of" featurettes to see how they recreated 1912 Paris—it’s a masterclass in blending practical locations with digital set extensions.