#354: Battlefield Earth

Release Date: May 12th, 2000

Format: Streaming (Tubi)

Written by: Corey Mandell and J.D. Shapiro

Directed by: Roger Christian

1 Star

It’s been over 26 years since the release of Battlefield Earth, one of Hollywood’s most infamous box office flops.

If you’ve seen it, you know how terrible it is, and even if you haven’t, you’re probably aware of its reputation.

So why did I watch it tonight, after all these years? Am I only digging it up to bury it again?

No, not really. I had never seen it before, and I genuinely went in with the best intentions. Maybe there’s something to appreciate about Battlefield Earth, in the same way there is with other big budget flops of its era, like Waterworld (great effects and world building) and Showgirls (campy, dirty fun). I mean, a big budget sci-fi epic with John Travolta in a villain role, near the height of his fame? Sounds promising to me.

Let’s just say that my good will didn’t last long. 

Battlefield Earth is one of the most disagreeable films I’ve ever seen. It’s terribly, terribly unlikeable. Director Roger Christian, with his blue-gray color scheme and unrelenting, borderline nauseating Dutch angles, is to blame. Writer Corey Mandell, with his cliche dialogue and hamfisted pacing, is to blame. John Travolta, seemingly doing whatever he can to save this turkey, turns in a performance that is equal parts annoying and ostentatious. You don’t even feel bad for him, you hate the film so much. 

Any time he was on screen I kept thinking, “It probably took him hours each day for weeks to put on that stupid costume and those garish prosthetics and a couple more hours to take it all off, and you know what, he deserves it.” 

It’s all terrible. It took me six nights to finish the film, watching it in 20-30 minute chunks. It was all I could stomach in a single sitting. 

More than the director, writer, and star, though, I blame L. Ron Hubbard, whose novel serves as the source material. In addition to being a hack (the guy literally churned out hundreds of sci-fi novels over his career, for which he was paid a penny per word, leading to his infamous self-revelation that “writing for a penny a word is ridiculous. If a man wants to make a million dollars, the best way would be to start his own religion”), Hubbard was a notorious asshole. By all accounts he was combative to the point of being abusive, he was narcissistic, intolerant, insecure, but to his credit, highly imaginative, traits that all form an authorial subtext to Battlefield Earth. 

Hubbard’s writing resembles the storytelling of a self-important 11-year-old, where the kid drones on and on, so you have to tune him out at a certain point. Then the kid gets angry because he doesn’t understand your indifference. You don’t mean to be impolite, but how do you tell the kid that his dialogue sucks? That his characters are cliche and boring?

The kid ultimately comes to the conclusion that you’re not special enough to see his talent, and in fact, nobody is. His reputation as a misunderstood genius further solidifies. He has a chip on his shoulder. As the years go by he churns out more stories and more stories, to minimal fanfare. He measures himself against his peers, who surpass him in financial and artistic success, but this only fuels him further. 

He’s unwavering, talentless, relentless, unlikeable. This is the type of man who would write Battlefield Earth.