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Battlefield Earth

3 Aug

I know, I know. You’re asking yourself, Why would you do this? Why would you rent this atrocity? All I can say is, well, sometimes you know something is going to be really, really bad but you want to see it anyway. Sorta like in 12th grade when your PETA friend was all like, “Hey, check out this animal rights video,” and you were thinking, Man, this is gonna be rouuuuuuugh, but you said okay anyway, and now when you eat bacon you hear gargling blood-screams emanating from the death factory inside your soul.

Thanks a lot, asshole.

Okay, let’s get the pithy shit out of the way: yes, this movie is exactly as bad as you’d think.

With that said, let me tell you a tale. A tale pulled from the sweaty slab of ham L. Ron Hubbard called a brain.

Sooooooooo a bunch of CHUDS escape from New York City sewers, grow dreadlocks, and become alien overlords. Their human slaves get all Planet of the Apes, telling their captors, “These homespun leather pants are TOO TIGHT.” Meanwhile the director yells, “Travolta, you need to give more! More botched, effete British accent! More flamboyant hand gestures! More yellow-toothed, D-grade Fangoria grins! MOOOOOOOORE!!!”

Then the credits roll, I perform trepanation (as per the YouTube instructions I found), and pour hot candle wax into my frontal lobe through a crazy straw.

I can still taste the Lavender Jamboree.

Did I mention that this movie is obsessed with wipes? Holy christ, talk about obtrusive. These are the kind of wipes where the screen splits down the middle and pulls apart, as if the director were trying to employ a heavy-handed metaphor for cinematic birth. Instead the baby is stillborn and there are labor turds all over the place and everyone’s really, really sad and embarrassed.

Hey, I’m not going to lie. I liked it when the man-apes went nuts at the end and smashed a whole lotta glass (to say nothing of the MOTHERFUCKIN’ NUKE). But if I wanted unruliness, I’d just watch Over the Edge again and again and again. Post-apocalyptic man-apes don’t have skateboards. Early 80s SoCal kids do. Plus, they have better drug hook-ups than man-apes.

I pretty much just chew on the adrenal glands of my slain foes.

I give this movie 0.5 gnarled alien dreads out of 4.

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