Have you ever paid money to see a movie that was just awful, but you refused to leave because you had already paid? For your Uncle P, that movie was 2000's Battlefield Earth, a stinker of epic proportions starring John Travolta in a screen adaptation of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard's Sci-Fi novel.
Travolta plays Terl, Security Chief of an alien race called the Psychlos, who in the year 3000 have enslaved mankind and are stripping the Earth of its natural resources (as if we aren't doing a good enough job of that, ourselves). The Psychlos are 8 feet tall, use breathing apparatus that look like snot running out their noses and wear dreds because they are apparently big Ziggy Marley fans. Barry Pepper (The Green Mile) is Jonnie, the only human left with any balls, who leads a revolution against the stupid alien overlords. Forest Whittaker (who really should have known better) is a Psychlo named Ker, looking like a mentally challenged Klingon.
The dialog is ridiculous, the acting is only slightly better than that in a sixth grade Christmas pageant and the "Special Effects" are short-bus special, if you know what I mean. Produced by Travolta to honor his Loony Toons cult's founder and directed by Corey Mandell and J.D. Shapiro (who have 8 credits between them - Mandell never directed again), Battlefield Earth is the kind of movie you watch because you just can't believe it's as bad as your friends tell you it is. Even other Scientologists will tell you that Battlefield Earth stinks -- but only in private, lest their evil alien overlords drag them away for three years of "reconditioning." Check it out:
Travolta's peculiarly high-pitched voiced sounds particularly silly when coming out of that over-sized head. This movie is so bad, I have literally blocked it's details from my memory. Happily, some one found a way to make it better (or at least tolerable):
Oh, dear. That was just as horrible, wasn't it? Sorry.
If you've never seen Battlefield Earth (and I honestly cannot recommend that you do so), but find yourself compelled to, make sure its the Rifftrax version (and you might want to watch it 4:20...):
More Turkeys, anon.
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