The Glory That Is Battlefield Earth? (2000)

In honor of its twentieth anniversary, I shall endeavour here to take a look at a film most maligned, in a dead serious and not at all facetious examination appropriate to the current date. Some have compared it to an experience akin to being extremely verge-of-alcohol-poisoning drunk while a former disco star screeches in your ear, or perhaps as a hilarious nonsensical mess that makes for perfect popcorn-tossing mocking on bad movie night. But while many cruel words have been said about it, here, I will outline the true magnum opus that was delivered to us two decades ago.

First of all, we must touch on the source material--the novel of the same name by L. Ron Hubbard, which distinguishes itself by being approximately eighty seven million trillion pages long. Hubbard is a name that might ring a few bells to some, and all you need to know is that he's a bit like George RR Martin, in that he managed to cultivate a...noticeable following from a handful of tomes. However, Hubbard was arguably even smarter than GRRM, in that he saw to it that his books could double as lethal bludgeoning weapons, thus cornering two markets simultaneously.

Who couldn't trust a man like this?

Either way, a certain Hubbard fan called John Travolta was hoping to adapt it since the early eighties, a time when science fiction of wildly varying calibers proliferated in the wake of Star Wars. But Travolta was a man of vision--when his slumping career was resurrected by a Mr. Tarantino in the nineties, he cashed in this goodwill on a project that ensured his name would ring forever. By coincidence, soon Star Wars was also making its comeback, and it's no doubt that both films would be legendary.

Thus begins the epic (directed by Roger Christian, a man largely responsible for caking on the dirt on the original Star Wars sets and a few other no doubt superb films nobody's ever heard of) that sets itself up with a chilling vision of the future, wherein Earth has been subjugated by a race of Rastafarian imitators called Psychlos. Some of little vision have said these invaders look stupid, and have a stupid name too, and act stupid themselves to boot. But the fact is, Mr. Christian and Travolta were expressing deep social commentary on the human condition itself--for if we, as a people, can be conquered by those that hold their guns upside down and never invented practical haircuts, what does that say about ourselves?

Anyway, we are soon introduced to our hero, Johnny Goodboy Tyler, played by Barry Pepper, whose character immediately grants us a ray of hope by confirming that even in the post-apocalyptic fourth millennium, excellent dental care will be available. Tyler soon decides to leave his tribe and find a measure of hope despite the millennia of desolation, and in this, Pepper's performance comes into its own; I truly believe that Tyler was suffering from some radiation poisoning of the brain, given his emoting consists of dancing like he stood on a tack and barking incoherently at people.

I have about the same reaction to seeing that one crossover with The Human Centipede and Love Actually. 

Something viewers have also noted is that almost every frame in the film is shot at a tilted angle, as Christian apparently had every set built on a ramp. Many have complained that this looks awkward and has lead to many a neck being unnecessarily craned, but in truth, this avant-garde technique speaks to the director's genius, as it demonstrates the very instability of existence itself--what is our collective destiny, when all the world is literally sinking?

Anyway, Tyler and some other cavemen he finds on the way are captured by the Psychlos and taken before their chief of security, Terl, played in true magnificence by Travolta himself. This is one of the iconic points of the film, and while some claim this performance makes William Shatner look positively chloroformed, I see it as brilliance. Already I could see the tantalizing hints of Terl's backstory, like the suggestion that he once took a sledgehammer to his groin, hence the voice Travolta puts on. Or that he once swallowed gallons of Psychlo space bleach as a child, thus explaining the slightly, ah, desperate decisions he makes throughout film.

Not since Al Pacino in The Devil's Advocate have I seen a thespian craft a performance of such subtlety.

But yes, Terl truly steals the show from here on out, and we find out that he's doomed to his backwater post thanks to Psychlo office politics. Christian exhibits his daring through this all, like having the sound cut out while Terl his mocked by his superiors in a meeting, for reasons beyond the ken of common minds (or perhaps he was merely kind enough to not wake up the sound editor when he fell asleep). Forrest Whittaker as Terl's assistant Ker also helps ensure that through all this, the word 'leverage' is spoken enough times that you'd think it was some sort of aphrodisiac for the Psychlos--nay, it must be. The worldbuilding before us is truly incredible.

Terl thus decides to buy his way out by having human slaves mine gold just for him, Tyler among them. In here, he see the intricacies of Terl's character; though he might act like a screeching asshole who likes to massacre immobile cows to prove his superiority, he possessed the kindness to teach the humans his language, and give them access to things like libraries and ancient knowledge. Nor does he have the cruelty to spot when Tyler starts covering for his resistance efforts by retrieving gold bars from Fort Knox despite having no way to process his ore, for that is the deepness of his character. Others claim that Terl is just a hammy poorly written bad guy with an IQ in the minus levels, but they merely undersell such deep Dostoevsky-level writing.

Anyhoo, Tyler manages to organize an uprising, with his caveman friends managing to learn how to pilot old US military Harrier jets in about five minutes after finding simulators in an old base. Now, one might rightfully ask hundreds of questions, like how they're even able to comprehend the controls, or where the fuel comes from, or how they don't shit themselves on takeoff. But the truth is, this represents Christian's finale homage to the human spirit--that one doesn't need years of training nor basic hygiene to soar to new heights, figuratively and literally, but just to play videogames on your ass for half an hour.

And so, with this air force of unshaven Fred Flintstones, the attack on the Pyschlo base begins, where we are thrilled by the masterful cinematography that has the viewer tilt their head constantly, and an amazingly thought out climax where Tyler teleports a convenient nuclear bomb to the Psychlo homeworld after conveniently knowing how, where it conveniently explodes the whole thing. Ker turns over to their side and Terl is captured, surrounded in a cage by the gold he coveted in irony so carefully wrought, one must approach it like the infinite details of an oil painting.

Thus ends Battlefield Earth, which only got around to only adapting the first third of its source material; Travolta would always insist that more would come, but alas, everyone else involved was too busy fishing around in toilets for their careers. But despite that, the storyline, performances, and, well, just about everything to do with the film would be discussed to the present day, such was the impact it had on film buffs. Few others would be known for the sort of quality it possesses, and with the help of friends and some intoxicants (fine, plenty of intoxicants), one just might be able to fully appreciate that quality too!