'Battlefield' blows - seriously
By Erin Podolsky
Daily Arts Writer
It took eight years for the 1990s to produce a film worthy of the dubious distinction of being called worst film of the decade, finally ringing the bell with "One Tough Cop" in 1998. The double-0s seem to have peaked early in this new century and millennium - not even six months into the new year and Hollywood already has a winner of a stinkbomb with the megabudget, megaton "Battlefield Earth." And while this might be a real buzzkill for John Travolta's long- since- resurrected career and Barry Pepper's nascent one, perhaps it's a blessing in disguise.
It's all uphill from here.
Set in the year 3000 (as we are so kindly informed as a subheading to the movie's title, this is no ordinary flick - this is a saga! A saga of grand proportions, of far-reaching impact, of humankind stretched to its limits, of victory, of grandeur, of SHEER GENIUS!), "Battlefield Earth" opens with the information that the alien race of Psychlos has colonized Earth and sent the few remaining humans who weren't slaughtered in the nine minute takeover of the planet scurrying for the hills.
This information, like most other pertinent or not so pertinent facts of the movie's ridiculous plot, which I shall not reveal much of here to save you all from mutilating yourselves in pain, is repeated at least three times during the course of the film. Also used repetitively are wipes instead of dissolves for transitioning between scenes, the only reason for which might be to recall the cheesy-yet-appropriate wipe effects of "Star Wars," perhaps to even subconsciously encourage the audience to look at "Battlefield Earth" as an epic along the lines of Luke, Leia and the gang. Instead they come across not just as cheesy, but insulting and ridiculous. (The stealing doesn't end there, either; the great white hope of the humans learns all about his captors and their world and their skills in a manner suspiciously reminiscent of Neo's quick education in "The Matrix," so much so that I half-expected him to jump up and announce, "I know kung-fu!")
Travolta plays Psychlo security chief Terl, which rhymes with "hurl," which doesn't seem to be an accident. As imagined by director Roger Christian, the Psychlos are a grunty lot. They look like second cousins of the Klingons of "Star Trek," or at least what Klingons would look like after a bad day at the beauty parlor with a hair stylist fresh out of Joe Bob's Cosmetology Academy. That's not to be confused with Joe Bob's Scientology Academy, branches of which Travolta and others involved with "Battlefield Earth" are members, and founded by L. Ron Hubbard, who also authored the book on which the move is based. I point this out not to denigrate a religious sect, but to attempt to partially explain what in L. Ron's name convinced Travolta to undertake this misguided mess. Because if he did this movie solely on the basis of the script, well, kiss that critical love goodbye, John. The days of adoration and adulation are over.
The humans are led in revolution by Jonnie Goodboy Tyler (Pepper), who in addition to his preposterous name also has bad hair and labors under the added burden of looking like a fine-boned girl. Jonnie briefly wanders through the abandoned civilization of the United States before he is captured by the Psychlos, prompting plenty of questions about how it is that the monuments of our society (especially miniature golf) haven't eroded in the wake of abandonment. Putt-putt isn't the worst offense of "Battlefield Earth," though, and the entire movie is little more than a poorly phrased cipher.
There isn't much else to say about "Battlefield Earth." The Psychlos are an odd bunch of conquerors, given that Jonnie and company outsmart them time and again despite being out-brained, out-weighed, out-gunned and out-manned. If "Battlefield Earth" had its way, we'd go through life thinking that the operating manual for an atomic bomb was as easy to read as "See Dick Run."
Which brings me to the puzzle of how and why this reprehensible movie got made. It's the kind of movie that is to "abomination" as "abomination" is to "masterpiece." It's difficult to find any logical explanation given the movie's complete lack of internal coherence - not to mention its complete lack of humor, or plausible action, or romance, or any of the elements that make a good movie great. It even lacks the good sense and acumen to be properly cheesy, like the brilliantly sardonic "Starship Troopers." Travolta's performance is hammy but not pointed; he's a blunt knife where a saber might have saved the day. Might have.
Travolta's career has enjoyed a resurgence during the past ten years. We all know the story: after languishing for years in movies-of-the-week and the umpteen incarnations of "Look Who's Talking" in his post-70s stupor, he made a Psychlo-sized comeback in "Pulp Fiction" and never looked behind him. Has the string of successes finally hit a wall? "Battlefield Earth" could only be the product of a narcotic-addled mind, or at least a narcotic-addled conscience that saw its way clear to spending L. Ron-only-knows-how-many millions of dollars to make and promote it.
The best articulation of precisely what trouble Travolta has thrown himself headlong into can be found in a drug trip of another color, Sick Boy's philosophy of life and Sean Connery in "Trainspotting." At one time you've got it, and then you lose it, and it's gone forever, Sick Boy tells us.
With luck, Travolta hasn't lost it. He'll likely survive "Battlefield Earth," although its stench will haunt him for quite a while; this is the kind of movie that not only ruins careers, but ruins studios, too. But don't worry. The market is on the rebound, the Hollywood coffers always seem to replenish themselves and for those lucky few who like the movie, I'm sure the sequel will be out just in time to ring in 2010.
[includes picture of Travolta and Forest Whitaker with caption:
Ker (Forest Whitaker): "Wow, this movie is really and truly awful, isn't it?"
Terl (John Travolta): "True." (A scene from "Battlefield Earth") ]
