Battlefield Earth (2000) – What Happened to This Sci-Fi Movie?
Today’s film is a tale of Hollywood hubris filled to the brim with breathtakingly stupid decision making and misled fortitude. The kind of story that the scriptwriters for Entourage may have rejected for being too unbelievable. Yet, unfortunately for John Travolta, The Church of Scientology, and a now bankrupt film company, it’s all too true. After Scientology creator and science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard wrote Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000 (Originally titled Man, The Endangered Species) he was confident it would become a film. No. Two films. His work of over 420,000 words and 820 pages would need as much. In those pages Hubbard claimed held a treasure trove of every genre you could imagine. From science fiction to mystery to romance. Everything except for the genre fantasy according to Hubbard. While that would fall through and Hubbard would pass away in 1986, one of his followers, John Travolta, would carry its torch. Right into the annals of bad movie history. Quite possibly to the very tip-top of the list. Grab a Kerbango and settle in. This is what happened to Battlefield Earth.
Though Hubbard’s sweeping science fiction epic about humans becoming an endangered species because of nine-foot-tall aliens had become a best seller, many thought it was a work. Critics accused Hubbard’s Scientology foundations of pulling a publishing industry scheme in which they would buy up a substantial amount of the books themselves. Thus ensuring it became a bestseller before allegedly returning the books or selling them elsewhere secondhand. But this was just a rumor. The story was at least popular enough for The Church of Scientology’s literary agency sell to its rights to a company called Salem Productions. They enlisted the help of screenwriter Abraham Polonsky and The Longest Day director Ken Annakin to head the project creatively. These wild and crazy guys even constructed a thirty foot tall inflatable of Terl smack dab in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard to promote it. But it was all for naught. The project slipped into oblivion, and Hubbard passed away in 1986. Picture a gigantic, deflated alien being peed on by a stray dog as the sun goes down. But a message in a bottle had already been sent into the universe in the form of a signed book to devoted Scientologist John Travolta.
Hubbard sent the book to Travolta when it released in the hopes that he would use his Hollywood powers to turn it loose. Travolta unsurprisingly loved it and called it a “fine wine of the genre,” different than anything he had ever read. But after a string of box office duds, his star at the time was much like that deflated alien over on Hollywood Boulevard. Until 1994 and Pulp Fiction. Travolta’s stock skyrocketed after his excellent performance as hitman Vincent Vega. He turned it into a string of hits including Broken Arrow, Get Shorty, and Face/Off. Travolta was back and bigger than ever. There was never a better time to push an extremely high-budget Scientology backed epic on the world. Or maybe there is no good time to push an extremely high-budget Scientology-backed science fiction epic on the world. Either way, he did it. Hard.
In what you could argue is one of the dumbest sentences ever uttered by a human ever, he referred to Battlefield Earth as “Pulp Fiction in the year 3000”. If that’s not cuckoo enough, studio heads like Bill Mechanic at 20th Century Fox were beginning to make comments about Scientology enthusiasts becoming pushy on the subject at the studio. He lamented Scientologists were coming up to him and telling him how excited they were for the film. Before he was even producing it. Totally creeping him out. Their deal with Fox fell through. as did one with MGM. In the meantime, Robin Hood: Men in Tights writer J.D. Shapiro was hired to shape up the script before eventually being fired for refusing to adhere to studio mandates. The entire thing was a mess. Travolta was giving it his all but eventually the studios saw through the star power. They found themselves staring at a $100 million budget for a movie that audiences were always going to be skeptical of based on the connection to Scientology.
Eventually, Travolta got creative and went to Franchise Pictures. The growing company had an innovative approach to making movies not that far removed from what Blumhouse Productions has done over the years. Company head Elie Samaha sought out popular actors with passion projects that bigger studios had refused to finance. He would make their movies on the cheap, sometimes offering a cut of box office returns over upfront fees. The business model was simple. Do you want this movie made? Great. But it’s going to be made for half the price. The company had produced films like Bruce Willis’ The Whole Nine Yards and Kevin Costner’s 3000 Miles to Graceland in the past. Travolta not only lowered his $20 million fee but became a producer as well, eventually sinking $5 million dollars of his own money into the project. Eventually, Samaha boasted that he had cut the film’s budget in half to $50 million (though it would later balloon to $73 million). This was enough to secure production through Morgan Creek Entertainment and distribution through Warner Bros. domestically. Battlefield Earth was a go.
Travolta then asked his friend Quentin Tarantino to direct. Likely dying from laughter on the inside, Tarantino politely declined. Could you imagine Battlefield Earth directed by Quentin effing Tarantino? Me either. Roger Christian, a man who had once worked as a set decorator for Star Wars: A New Hope and was second unit man on Phantom Menace was given the job instead. They were also able to nab their cinematographer in Giles Nuttgen from The Phantom Menace. The studio hired Corey Mandell to rewrite the script, which was rumored to be on its tenth draft at the time. Though Patrick Tatopoulos was brought over from sets like Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Independence Day, no amount of talent was going to be able to cover the disconnect between budget and scope when it came to Battlefield Earth. More on that soon.
The project hired up and coming actor Barry Pepper to play its young hero after his impressive performance in Saving Private Ryan. Though Travolta originally imagined playing the part himself, the actor had put on some weight over the years and wasn’t too keen on showing the world. Playing the nine foot tall alien Terl would allow him to hide his figure a little better under a bevy of costumes and makeup. Recognizable character actors Kim Coates and Richard Tyson nabbed supporting roles, and Forest Whitaker signed on to play Ker because he enjoyed working with Travolta on Phenomenon. Throw in Travolta’s wife, Kelly Preston, as a secretary with a Gene Simmons like alien tongue, and this shit show was ready to leave the station.
Shooting began in multiple locations in Canada alongside some additional filming in Los Angeles in July of 1999. The director employed the use of what’s called a Dutch angle throughout filming to give Battlefield Earth a more comic book like feel. The simplest explanation of this is basically turning the camera a little sideways to give it a surreal, off-balance feel. Things were definitely off balance.
Despite Travolta’s promises that this film would be even better than Star Wars, the budget simply didn’t match the special effects needs, and with a tight budget comes a tight shooting schedule. Even if the script were well organized (and it was anything but), the time simply wasn’t available for anything involving an intricate pre-production. This affected makeup, costumes, and special effects greatly on a project that already was unable to afford anything close to what you would call state of the art digital effects. It became a set full of trial by fire moments and attempted ingenuity. Though Travolta claimed he stood on four foot tall stilts at times, eventually Christian also had to simply shoot the Psychlos at an upward angle to make it look like they were bigger than they really were.
Travolta, possibly in full denial mode at this point, was unbothered and even promised the press a sequel the following year, all the while swearing that the film had no ties to Scientology. Just a big ole’ loveable science fiction film. But the press wasn’t buying it. It started when a magazine aptly titled Mean Magazine got ahold of the finished script and retitled it “Dark Forces by Desmond Finch” before sending it out anonymously to Hollywood production studios and asking for feedback. Even without the Scientology baggage, each studio passed on the project and left notes calling the script “as entertaining as watching a fly breathe.” The fire continued to rise when the media, sensing blood in the water, attempted to get on set and were meet with a high level of security. When they did manage to get ahold of an actor working on the project, they were informed that an NDA had been signed and the actors by law couldn’t share any information. One Washington Post writer caught a sneak peek at some passing props and described them as something out of a ’50s B-movie.
Despite this, Warner Bros sunk $20 million into the marketing, which included one-sheet phrases like “Prepare to go Psychlo.” Figurine company Trendmasters even made a line of toys around the characters in the movie that included a Psychlo Battlecraft vehicle. But when it came time to show Battlefield Earth to the world, the wheels and Halloween Express Rob Zombie wigs came flying off.
It’s typically bad news if an audience is laughing at unintentionally funny moments in your film. It’s always bad when they are walking out early. So, what do you call it when audiences are laughing your film off the screen and walking out early during free press screenings? Battlefield Earth.
As Travolta heavily marketed the film on his press tour, reports of these catastrophic early screenings leaked everywhere. Travolta swore that not only was he happy with the film… but both Tarantino and George Lucas were also big fans. This claim was no match for former Scientologist Lawrence Wollersheim insisting that Battlefield Earth held within its scenes subliminal messaging about Scientology. As if you needed another reason to not head to the movie theater for Battlefield Earth. Your children could become indoctrinated! Or have to watch Battlefield Earth!
The film would open on July 12th, 2000, one week removed from Ridley Scott’s epic Gladiator and two weeks before fellow Scientologist Tom Cruise’s Mission: Impossible II. Battlefield Earth came in second place in its opening week to the tune of just over $11 million. In its second week, it took a secondary punch to the alien nuts with a 67% drop and was averaging just under $200 a screen in a matter of weeks. To compare these numbers to our modern streaming world, Battlefield Earth would have been offering viewers a $20 Amazon gift certificate just to watch it on Crackle TV by its third weekend. A monumental bust the likes of which we’ve rarely ever witnessed before, Battlefield Earth ended its run with just under $30 million earned against its $73 million production budget. Never mind Warner Bros.’ $20 million in wasted marketing.
The only thing more brutal may have been the critical reaction. Battlefield Earth was dubbed one of the worst produced films of the century, the worst movie ever made, or as one critic literally put it, “AAAAGHHH MY EYES! IT BURNS! IT BURNS!” Audiences felt the same, giving it a D+ CinemaScore. Which, when it comes to the usually very pillow-fisted CinemaScore, is pretty much the audience saying they’d rather cut off their own pinky toe and donate it to Quentin Tarantino than ever be subjected to the film again.
The backlash was so bad Paramount Pictures decided to push Travolta’s next film, Lucky Numbers, back several months on the schedule to wait for the storm to pass. Travolta’s career survived, but you can’t say the same thing for Franchise Pictures, who were sued into bankruptcy by Intertainment AG for allegedly falsely inflating their budgets to the tune of over $120 million in damages. The film set a new world record at the time for Razzie Awards, including Worst On Screen Couple for “Travolta and anyone sharing the screen with him.” Original writer J.D. Shapiro distanced himself from the project by joining the mob and claiming what they had done to his script was embarrassing.
Despite boasting that the film almost made $100 million when you accounted for DVD sales and pay-per-view, Travolta finally admitted a sequel was not in the cards. You think? It looks like the 436 out of 1050 pages of L. Ron Hubbard’s Battlefield Earth are all we’re ever going to see on the big screen. Oh, darn. Take my life but not Battlefield Earth 2. And that is what happened to cautionary tale for the ages, Battlefield Earth.
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