Lucy (2014) – Review

A much-visited element of science fiction is the exploration of where humanity has been and where it might be headed—whether that’s the physical frontier of space travel and time travel, or the inward journey into the uncharted depths of our own biology. These stories often speculate on the next great leap forward in our species’ capabilities, imagining futures in which human potential is pushed far beyond its current limits.

A much-visited element of science fiction is the exploration of where humanity has been and where it might be headed—whether that’s the physical frontier of space travel and time travel, or the inward journey into the uncharted depths of our own biology. These stories often speculate on the next great leap forward in our species’ capabilities, imagining futures in which human potential is pushed far beyond its current limits. Some films, like X-Men: Days of Future Past, play with the idea of “Homo Superior”—a next stage of evolution that could leave us mere Homo Sapiens trailing behind in awe (or fear). Others, like Limitless and Luc Besson’s Lucy, propose a more provocative scenario: that science itself could step in as an accelerant, jump-starting evolution with a little artificial push.

Things will get a little weird.

In Lucy, that speculative leap drives the story with its simple but irresistible premise: Lucy (Scarlett Johansson) is an unwitting drug mule who, after a bag of experimental synthetic chemicals ruptures inside her, begins unlocking more and more of her brain’s capacity, leaning heavily on the long-debunked “we only use 10% of our brains” myth, but Luc Besson is less concerned with scientific accuracy and more with the cinematic thrill of “what if?” Fortunately, he has a secret weapon to help sell the idea, we have Professor Norman (Morgan Freeman) delivering lengthy monologues on brain capacity and evolutionary potential with the kind of calm, measured authority that makes you nod along—even when the words make about as much sense as a quantum physics lecture given by a magician. It’s Morgan Freeman’s presence that gives the film’s pseudo-science a surprising sense of weight, turning pure narrative hand-waving into something that feels like it just might be in a textbook somewhere.

How can you doubt this voice?

Johansson’s performance is the key to selling this transformation. She shifts from terrified, very human victim to detached, almost alien intellect with uncanny precision. Her gradual emotional withdrawal mirrors her expanding awareness, making her both compelling and unsettling to watch. Morgan Freeman serves as our friendly science explainer, delivering exposition with his trademark calm authority, while Choi Min-sik (of Oldboy fame) brings a grounded menace as the ruthless crime boss who sets Lucy’s journey in motion.

“How about some stylish gangs?”

Besson, true to form, approaches the film like a cinematic magpie—pulling shiny bits from action, philosophy, cyberpunk, and even nature documentaries. One minute Lucy is dispatching gangsters with balletic precision; the next, she’s communing with prehistoric humans or morphing into something that can’t even be called human at all. The pacing is relentless, and the visuals—especially in 4K—are pure eye candy. The enhanced resolution makes the film’s already trippy montages, rapid-fire time-lapse sequences, and cosmic imagery shimmer with hypnotic intensity.

Gangsta Style

Yes, the science is nonsense. Absolutely, the metaphysical leaps are more mystical than logical. But Lucy thrives on that very looseness—it’s not here to win a Nobel Prize; it’s here to mash the accelerator, flood the senses, and leave you pondering, “Well… what if?” By the time the credits roll, you’ve experienced a film that’s part shootout, part TED Talk, part psychedelic screensaver, and somehow it all works.

“I can see the Matrix.”

Yes, the science is nonsense. Absolutely, the metaphysical leaps are more mystical than logical. But between Besson’s flair for spectacle, Johansson’s icy magnetism, and Freeman’s ability to make even the wildest theories sound like peer-reviewed truth, Lucy becomes something more than the sum of its parts. It’s not a lesson in neuroscience—it’s a stylish, high-speed fantasy about human potential, delivered with the confidence of a storyteller who never once taps the brakes.