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In 2011, Earth is attacked by unknown forces and Los Angeles becomes the last stand for mankind in a battle no one expected. It's up to a Marine staff sergeant and his new platoon to draw a line in the sand as they take on an enemy unlike any they've ever encountered before.
Case in point: Battle: Los Angeles, an alien-invasion disaster piece so loud, ham-fisted and joyless-so aggressively lousy-that its only real usefulness is to make one better appreciate the deft touch of a Roland Emmerich.
If the talk had been surgically removed, leaving only the sights and sounds of combat, this could have been a striking, semiabstract display of aggressive energy; as it is, any viewer over twelve will go for the laughs.
Don't mean to boast, but I can suspend my disbelief as willingly as any credulous moviegoer. Yet not even an industrial crane would have helped here. Nope, Battle: Los Angeles completely defeated me.