Dear John Travolta: Hi. My name is Lonnie Harris, and I’m
an overly-critical UCLA student who recently paid $5.50 to see your
new movie “Battlefield Earth.” I don’t bring this
up to request my money back, or imply that I was somehow coerced
against my will into seeing your new film. I only want to point out
that I paid a matinee price, as opposed to an evening one, because
frankly, evening prices at the movies are getting more expensive
than summer homes in Malibu. And we all can’t get $20 million
to make crap like “Michael.”
So, I was sitting in a movie theater with about 20 other people,
watching “Battlefield Earth,” the book-turned-movie you
apparently made because of your undying love for author L. Ron
Hubbard, his other book “Dianetics” and the Scientology
religion.
Personally, I don’t know why it is advertised on daytime
TV during “Maury Povich.” But you, Giovanni Ribisi and
Tom Cruise can’t all be wrong.
I don’t know much about Scientology, except that its
church charges members a lot of money, Germans don’t like
them and they seem to have special appeal for movie stars such as
yourself. Judging from the philosophies expressed in
“Battlefield Earth,” I can guess that the religion is
based around something like humanity’s ability to rise above
its meager station on this planet and achieve spiritual oneness
with its surroundings in a massive orgy of joy and togetherness.
That and lots of crappy special effects.
I can only assume you’re anxious for me to get to the
point. Mr. Travolta, I’m writing because it seems that
whoever’s advising your career isn’t brave enough to
tell you the truth ““ not only is “Battlefield
Earth” one of the worst movies ever made, but it’s only
the latest in a long line of failures you’ve been making ever
since “Pulp Fiction” and “Get Shorty” first
put you back in the spotlight. You’re blowing it, Johnny-Boy,
and this is already your first comeback. So there probably
isn’t another one blooming on the horizon.
After “Get Shorty,” you certainly seemed to have had
it all figured out: Golden Globe and Oscar nominations for your
portrayal of mobster-turned-mogul Chili Palmer, independent film
credibility because of your association with Quentin Tarantino, not
to mention a rising star for a wife (Kelly Preston), a likable
screen persona and the obvious good looks that made you famous in
the first place. And, no, I’m not coming on to you.
It was at this point that you made a wrong turn somewhere.
“Phenomenon,” “Michael,” “Primary
Colors,” “Mad City,” “White Man’s
Burden,” “Broken Arrow” … the list just goes on
and on. Sure, there have been a few bright spots along the way
““ “Face/Off” comes immediately to mind ““
but if you want people to come and see your movies in the future,
you’re going to have to start looking for quality projects to
get involved with.
I hate to even bring him up, but I feel I have to remind you
about the career of another heartthrob actor who everyone thought
would be around forever. His name was Kevin Costner. Though just
the mention of his involvement with a movie used to be enough to
make it a hit, now his name is synonymous with the self-indulgent
vanity project ever since “Waterworld” and “The
Postman.”
Look into the future, Mr. Travolta. Do you really want to end up
making something like “The Postman”?
That’s the road that “Battlefield Earth” leads
to. It’s poorly directed, the art direction and special
effects would look cheesy on UPN and the acting is, well,
let’s just say atrocious.
There’s a scene in the movie in which your character,
Terl, a 10-foot alien with dreadlocks and a really bad sense of
humor, shoots the legs off of a herd of cattle for no apparent
reason, much to the chagrin of the humans he’s taken prisoner
in the Year 3000. Take another look at that last sentence. Can you
believe you’re in a movie that has a scene which requires you
to shoot the legs off cattle, much to the chagrin of the humans
you’ve taken prisoner in the Year 3000?
You should be using your star clout to get real movies made.
Find a script that’s been buried at some studio, gathering
dust for five years, and give it a try.
Take a gamble on some new director who’s made an
interesting small movie or a short film. Design your own projects,
not because they’re from novels by the man you’ve
chosen to worship but because you really think they’d
interest an audience of humans who want to be entertained, not
tortured.
If the trade magazines and newspapers are to be believed, your
next movie is “Numbers,” which is based on a true story
about a Pennsylvania man who tried to rig the lottery along with a
supermarket checkout girl.
This would sound OK, if it weren’t being directed by Nora
Ephron, whose movies are usually the sort of dippy romantic
comedies (like “Sleepless in Seattle” and
“You’ve Got Mail”) which I think I’m
actually becoming physically allergic to. She’s already said
in interviews that her movie is “a lot like
“˜Fargo,’ because it’s dark.” Having Nora
Ephron direct a dark movie is like hiring Alfred Hitchcock to
remake “Barney’s Great Adventure.” It might be
interesting, but it probably won’t work.
I hope there are no hard feelings, and please do bear in mind
that this open letter was only intended to help. By the way,
I’m graduating soon, and if you’d like to give me a
job, or just give me some money, you can get in touch with me care
of the Daily Bruin. My favor is for sale, and at a surprisingly
reasonable rate.
Oh, and if you could get me that $5.50 back, I’d like to
use it for “Gone in 60 Seconds.” I already have the
first few paragraphs of Nicolas Cage’s letter worked out.
Yours in Movies,
Lonnie Harris