Sometimes, I do things that most
people would consider genuinely, deliriously stupid. Nothing small like stubbing your toe
on the couch or dropping a sandwich on the floor. We're talking gigantic bouts of
stupidity. Stupidity so grand that, if any of my friends were to witness it, I'd full
expect them to look at me sideways and shout, "Chosis, what the fuck
are you doing?"
None of my friends saw me rent Battlefield: Earth, none of them suffered through it with me. If any had, I'm sure that we would not have remained friends. I've made my friends suffer through some ugly shit, but nothing this...tedious.
I really can't think of a more fitting way to describe Battlefield: Earth. "Boring" and "stupid" hardly cover my feelings toward this movie. I could feel my life slipping away as I watched this movie. Had some real "sands through the hourglass" moments here.
Based on the (*cough*cough*hack*) "classic" novel by, L. Ron Hubbard, the Cult Leader of Scientology**, B:E has long be heralded as the worst movie of 2000. Is it? Well...that, my lambs, is a tough nut to crack. I certainly hope so, because it if isn't....then God help me.
Indeed, God help us all.
Your Standard Helpful Titles tell us that, by the year 3000, Earth will have endured a thousand years of occupation by the Psychlo, an oppressive alien race. Apparently, the Psychlo (hmm..."Dr. Psy Chlosis?" No.) conquered the length and breath of Earth in just under 9 minutes.
Now, you'd expect the Psycho to be some bad motherfuckers. I certainly did. Imagine my surprise when they turned out to be a race of money grubbing, petty, backstabbing, Evil Capitalists with all the intelligence of your average inkblot. Fellow Trekkies have suggested that the Psychlo are a sick hybrid of the Klingon and Ferengi races. I say that any self-respecting Klingon who heard you say that would rip out your heart, take a bite out of it, and spit it back into your face.
Our story begins with Johnny. Johnny is a "Greener" (as in, "grass is always greener"), a great restless spirit who finds himself stifled by the ways of his nomadic mountain community. None of this "stay inside the mountains or you'll be captured by the Demons" crap for good ol' Johnny. Oh no. So, one day, he leaves. The next day, he finds a city (the remains of Denver, still in remarkable condition...just look at all intact glass). The day after that, he's captured by the Demons.
Yes, the Demons are Psychlos. Surprised?
No? Good, that means you're intelligent. So the Psychlos took over Earth, right? And gold
is really valuable to them, right? So they use humans as slave labor, right? Okay. Good
you're still with me. I was prepared to drift into a coma at this point.
Which, as luck would have it, is just when Terl (John Travolta) showed up. Terl is a fine specimen of Psychlodome: a vindictive son of a bitch who'll stop at nothing to get off of Earth. Not I blame him. The Earth of 3000 A.D. pretty much sucks. But, because of some trouble with Home Office (I assume Terl made "the beast with two backs" with the daughter of some Psychlo VIP) Terl seems consigned to forever be Earth's Chief of Security.
While drowning his sorrows in the local Psychlo bar, Terl hits upon an idea: he'll buy his way off of Earth! Brilliant! And, hey, his loyal lacky (Forrest Whitaker...oh, Ghost Dog, how could you?) has just located a new spur of gold! Problem: the gold is inside an irradiated area and atomic radiation is highly dangerous to the Psychlo. Contact causes their atmosphere to spontaneously combust. Deadly gas these people are breathing. Solution: Get some of those damn humans to mine the gold for him. Oh, how ever so smart is he.
But whom shall Terl choose to head the operation? Should he choose a week willed human who he can easily control, or the single most dangerous human on the planet Earth?
Yes, it's a sad, sad thing to say, but Johnny is the most dangerous human on Earth. While being transferred to his cage, Johnny managed to get ahold of a gun and shoot one of his Psychlo captors. Now, were I the head of security for a world conquering, tyrannical race I would've had Johnny summarily executed in front of the other "man-animals" (as the Psychlo call us) to show the penalty for such grievous treason. That'll learn 'em to get smart. Terl, on the other hand, laughs it off like a parent watching a four year old drop lit matches into a gas can. Gee, golly, iddn't dat cute?
So Terl takes Johnny, the one human who's show enough smarts to pick up a gun, and puts
him into a Clockwork Orange-ish learning machine.
Oh, brilliant! Make the dangerous one smarter. Terl just pisses all over the title
"evil genius." He's not even really evil, he's just petty. Now, if he wanted the
whole human race exterminated, then he'd be evil. He does call for complete
elimination of the human work force eventually, but, by then, Johnny has staged a gigantic
revolt and Earth truly has become a Battlefield.
But that's the last 30 minutes of the movie. It takes us 90 minutes to get there. This movie reminds me of a turtle race in February. Director Roger Christian (who directed a mindless little yawn-fest called Masterminds which no one but the blind should see) seems to think that filming everything at a 45-degree angle will keep us interested and inject drama into the proceedings. The only drama I experience watching this movie was when I almost dropped my drink and almost spilled tea all over my carpet. Tense moment, let me tell you.
Going in, I had a fair degree of prejudice towards Battlefield: Earth. That's a bad habit for any reviewer to get into. But what truly surprised me about this flick is how...indifferent I am towards it. It's polished and slick, but completely hollow of everything that makes a movie good. It's like a '67 Mustang with a new flaimin' red paint job that's had its engine stolen. All flash and no bang. All style and no substance.
That, without a doubt, is the problem with movies today. The prevalent idea in modern Hollywood is "throw enough money at it and somebody will like it." No one stops to wonder about quality before whipping out their checkbooks. Why should they? Nine times out of ten, the magic works. Look at Armageddon. Highest grossing movie of 1998. Beloved by rednecks and flag-wavers everywhere. $150 million down the pike for that sucker.
The sucker we're speaking of today only cost $80 million, and John Ravolta no doubt laundered most of that. Where it went, I have no idea. Special effects shots (which should shine...hell, for $80 million, they damn well better sparkle) are about on level with Playstation trailers. Matte shots are obvious and numerious. And it's painfully obvious that no one, anywhere wasted time in hiring a scientific consultant.
John stinks up the screen. That much is obvious from the get go. No matter how much make up you slather on his face, he still looks like an asshole. Barry Pepper, our lame duck version of Yor, fumbles through his role like...like...oh fuck it. Why waste good metaphors on a performance like this?
Come to think about it, why waste anything on a movie this...tepid? This bland? This uninteresting?
Screw it. Battlefield: Earth isn't even interesting enough tin insult. Rather then seeing the movie, go read Rod Hilton's excellent abridged script. It'll give you the entire movie in under ten minutes without the horrible neck cramps, crossed eyes or nausea. Hilton's parody attacks this movie with an energy I could never muster.
