Milla Jovovich / Milica Bogdanovna Jovović

Born on December 17, 1975 (Kyiv, Ukraine).

You probably fell for her instantly — that fiery-haired, celestial Leeloo in Luc Besson’s The Fifth Element (1997), a whirlwind of charm and otherworldly grace. She wasn’t just playing an alien savior; she was quietly defining a new archetype — the supernatural heroine who is both weapon and poem.

Then, for fifteen relentless years and six adrenaline-fueled Resident Evil films, she became humanity’s fiercest defender against the undead. Few could match that sheer, stubborn determination — perhaps only Kate Beckinsale, the iconic huntress of vampires and werewolves, or Emma Stone in her zombie-slaying Zombieland adventures. A younger wave — from Kristen Stewart with her dangerous vampire romances to Kaya Scodelario in Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City (2021) — stepped into worlds she helped make feel possible.

Like Eva Green, she has worn the mantle of Milady de Winter, proving that some roles are so charged they invite reinterpretation by the most magnetic actresses of their time. Across Future World (2018), Monster Hunter (2020), Breathe (2024), and In the Lost Lands (2025), she keeps returning to ruined landscapes and cursed worlds — the same narrative frontiers where actresses like Elizabeth Debicki, Teresa Palmer and others now explore their own variations of the post-human heroine.

There’s also a fragile, bohemian thread running through Jovovich’s career — a lineage she shares with chameleons like Juno Temple. Long before action cinema fully claimed her, she was a folk musician with an almost weightless voice. Like Mélanie Laurent and Scarlett Johansson, she stepped sideways into music, releasing the cult-classic album The Divine Comedy (1994). Intimate, poetic and slightly otherworldly, it revealed a different kind of warrior — one who fights with melody rather than blades. Later projects and songs folded back into her films, turning her career into a loop where cinema and music continuously echo each other.

And yet, for all the spectacle, Jovovich’s power lies in something quieter: sincerity. In interviews, in behind-the-scenes glimpses, in the way she speaks about her husband, director Paul W. S. Anderson, and their children, you glimpse someone grounded, reflective, almost gentle. That duality — myth and mother, blade and lullaby — is what makes her irreplaceable. She stands at the crossroads of several cinematic lineages at once: action icon, genre pioneer, musician, muse.

Married. Mother of three children.