"Battlefield Earth" is one of the worst films ever made. It's that simple. It's "Plan 9 From Outer Space" made with 60 million dollars. Had Ed Wood actually made it, people would expect an apology. When the cultural impact of this fiasco finally sinks in, John Travolta will be lucky if he can get a job plucking the gray hairs out of Ron Palillo's ass.
The only thing I can figure out is that the Church of Scientology decided that they wanted to ensure nobody else joined up. This movie is like watching the Pope accidentally catch on fire while giving Easter Mass. If that's not a time to rethink your spiritual choices, what is?
Discussing the details of the plot is probably akin to discussing the literary merits of a Nora Roberts novel. I just can't emphasize enough how bad it all is. I mean, it's such a disaster it may resurrect Lawrence-Hilton Jacobs' career. He'll be able to defend himself by saying "at least I didn't make 'Battlefield Earth'," and executives will have to acknowledge that he has a point. Anyway, it's the year 3000, a thousand years after a race called the Psychlos has taken over the Earth. The head of security is Terl (John Travolta) and he wants to use the humans as slaves for his personal gain. Unfortunately, Jonnie Goodboy Tyler (Barry Pepper) has other plans and leads a revolt.
In case you haven't seen any pictures, Psychlos are Jamaican Klingons who talk like Ferengi. The primary special effect in the movie is accomplished by filling buckets with dirt and pieces of concrete and then tossing them across the screen. Director Roger Christian has a hard-on for flying dirt like you would not believe. The guys who wrote this should be forced to dictate everything for the rest of their lives so that they can never again touch pen to paper or finger to keyboard and declare themselves writers. If Christian can get a job as a Sears portrait photographer after this movie, Congress should make the use of cameras punishable by death. Every single scene is at an angle, which gave me the urge to slide off my chair and smash my skull into the floor. Action scenes look like they were shot inside a paint mixer.
If egos were farts, one imagines John Travolta could destroy an entire planet himself by devouring a single frozen burrito. That this film even got made is clearly one testament to that fact, and that they're already planning a sequel is another.
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