Let’s go back to 1997. Titanic was sailing into box office history, Batman had nipples, and the internet was still something you had to yell at your mom to get off the phone to use. Kids like me were burning out their family’s VHS players with tapes of The Lost World, Liar Liar and Space Jam. It was a glorious stew of blockbusters, pop music, and dial-up tones. But nestled among the chaos was a movie so perfectly outrageous, so gleefully violent, and so misunderstood that it didn’t just fly over audiences’ heads—it practically dive-bombed them like a fleet of Arachnid kamikazes. That movie was Starship Troopers, baby. For kids who grew up in the late 90s, this was our RoboCop. Funny enough—it’s by the same exact madman director, Paul Verhoeven. If you were lucky enough to see this film on HBO or even in a theater at way too young an age (and I know you were), this thing imprinted on you. You might not have gotten the satire. You definitely didn’t understand the politics. But you damn sure remember the exploding bugs, the co-ed showers, and that scene where Jake Busey plays a neon green violin like he’s auditioning for an alien Bluegrass jam band. Better call up The Charlie Daniels Band! So buckle in, troopers because today on Horror Revisited, we’re jumping into a movie that took America’s obsession with war propaganda, shoved it through a meat grinder, and spit it back out as a blood-splattered, bug-stomping epic of satirical sci-fi perfection. And yes, it still rules.
Starship Troopers began life in the early 90s, based (very loosely) on Robert A. Heinlein’s 1959 novel of the same name. But make no mistake—Verhoeven wasn’t exactly a fan. In fact, he got about two chapters into the book before he slammed it shut and chucked it across the room. His words, not mine. He called the novel “fascist and boring,” which, coming from the guy who gave us Showgirls, is rich. But screenwriter Ed Neumeier—who also wrote RoboCop—saw something in Heinlein’s work that could be twisted into delicious social commentary. Together, they retooled the novel’s militaristic themes into a hyper-violent satire about a fascist future where humans are constantly at war with an alien race of giant bugs, and nobody seems to think that’s weird. Because why think when you can shoot?
Production kicked off with a modest $100 million budget and an aesthetic that was basically “Nazi propaganda meets Beverly Hills 90210.” The casting was genius in its blandness. Casper Van Dien as Johnny Rico? Perfect. He looks like the kind of guy who should be on a recruitment poster—because he can’t emote beyond “smile” and “slightly confused.” Denise Richards? Ivanka Trump with a pilot’s license. Neil Patrick Harris in a Gestapo trench coat giving orders with psychic brainwaves? That’s not Doogie Howser, that’s Doogie Goebbels. And then there’s Michael Ironside. The man. The myth. The chin you could sharpen knives on. Playing Lieutenant Rasczak, he’s basically your grizzled war uncle if your war uncle also taught Splinter Cell night school and had his arm bitten off by a bug before calmly lighting a cigar and saying “meh, happens.” Ironside elevates every scene he’s in. He looks like he was born in a bunker and raised on live ammunition. Every line he delivers sounds like gravel mixed with gunpowder. The man was so tough, Verhoeven had to literally remove his limbs in the script just to make him vulnerable. That’s star power, baby.
Verhoeven doesn’t ease you into the world of Starship Troopers. He chucks you headfirst into the chaos, starting with a live TV broadcast of a news report that turns into a full-on war zone, complete with soldiers being ripped in half by alien pincers and a cameraman who keeps filming while literally being eaten. Journalism ethics? Never heard of ’em. Then we flash back one year earlier, where everything is sunshine, high school football, and math classes taught by—who else—Michael Ironside. Because nothing says “futuristic fascism” like a teacher with a visible war wound asking teenagers if they understand the failure of democracy.
The movie moves fast. One minute, Rico is awkwardly professing his love to Denise Richards with all the emotional depth of a Facebook poke; the next, he’s joining the Mobile Infantry, where the motto is “Come on you apes, you wanna live forever?!” Basic training is a highlight reel of absurdity. People getting blown up in simulated combat. Doogie Howser performing mind-reading tricks on ferrets. A co-ed shower scene that somehow manages to feel both gratuitous and progressive. And let’s not forget drill instructor Zim (played by Clancy Brown, aka Mr. Krabs), who breaks a recruit’s arm with the same energy you’d use to correct a dog’s bad behavior. This whole section plays like a recruitment ad written by someone who just finished binge-watching Full Metal Jacket during a sugar crash. And that’s by design.
Verhoeven’s genius is in his commitment to the bit. The film uses propaganda aesthetics not as subtle parody, but as full-blown immersion. The in-world commercials (“Service guarantees citizenship!”) and PSA segments (“Would you like to know more?”) are so earnestly over-the-top they could double as YouTube pre-roll ads for an actual dictatorship. And if that makes you uncomfortable—good…That’s the point.
But now, Let’s talk about bugs. The visual effects for Starship Troopers were groundbreaking for 1997. Phil Tippett and his effects team combined practical models with CGI to bring the Arachnids to life—and they did not hold back. These bugs don’t just kill you. They shred you like paper. They pop heads like grapes. They impale, eviscerate, and explode with satisfying, slimy excess. And because this is Verhoeven, every death is turned up to eleven. Limbs fly. Guts spill. There’s a point in the movie where Rico literally rides a bug, plants a grenade in its carapace, and backflips off like he just got cast in Fast & Furious 2099.
By the time we get to Planet P—the most unfortunately named death trap in science fiction history—the movie is in full-on chaos mode. Johnny Rico has become a squad leader, everyone he trained with is either dead or traumatized, and the bugs are getting smarter. It all culminates in the discovery of the Brain Bug, a pale, shrieking alien sphincter with psychic powers and a serious oral fixation. When it’s finally captured, Neil Patrick Harris walks up in his SS-chic outfit, touches its gooey flesh, and says, “It’s afraid.” It’s a moment of eerie triumph that’s supposed to be horrifying—and yet everyone cheers.
Because Starship Troopers doesn’t just blur the line between heroism and fascism—it purposefully erases it. And makes you laugh while it’s doing it. Let’s get real for a second: Starship Troopers was way too smart for its own good. Critics at the time didn’t know what to make of it. Was it dumb fun? Was it satire? Was it both? Yes. The answer is yes. Roger Ebert famously gave it 2.5 stars and said it was “the most expensive goof ever made.” And while I respect the man, this take aged like milk in the desert sun. Because this movie isn’t just smart—it’s brilliant. It tricks you into enjoying a hyper-fascist, ultra-violent world and then slaps you across the face with the realization… You were cheering for space Nazis
It’s one of the few sci-fi films that manages to be both a total blast and a brilliant piece of satire, I loved how bold and unflinching it was. It wasn’t just entertaining—it felt rebellious, like a movie that wasn’t afraid to throw gallons of blood and goo at the screen just to make a point. And as I got older, I appreciated the genius behind the propaganda-style structure, the commentary on militarism, and Verhoeven’s ability to make the absurd feel disturbingly familiar.
That said, even as a fan, I can admit that Starship Troopers has its rough spots. The acting—while intentionally wooden to mimic propaganda videos—can sometimes feel too flat, especially when the emotional stakes should be higher. Casper Van Dien is perfectly cast for the role of Johnny Rico, but his performance doesn’t always bring depth to the character beyond “good soldier” energy. The love triangle subplot with Carmen and Dizzy also feels half-baked, with some pretty clunky romantic beats that don’t land the way the action scenes do. And while I appreciate the satirical intent behind casting a bunch of Hollywood-blonde twenty-somethings as citizens of Buenos Aires, it’s still a bit jarring and hard to ignore—especially now.
But these flaws feel almost intentional. The cheesy acting? That’s the propaganda at work. The generic good looks? The awkward romance subplots? Okay, yeah, that part’s just bad. But the rest? That’s Verhoeven using a hammer where most directors would use a scalpel.
When Starship Troopers hit theaters, it didn’t exactly make Earth-shattering box office noise. It opened at #1 in the U.S., sure—but only barely—and quickly got squashed by the likes of Bean: The Movie and The Rainmaker. I do remember it made around $121 million worldwide on a $100+ million budget, which isn’t technically a bomb, but it certainly didn’t deliver the kind of numbers Columbia Pictures was hoping for. Shocking, I know. Critics were confused. The marketing had sold it like a dumb summer blockbuster—“Bugs! Guns! Pretty people!” People thought Verhoeven was playing it straight, when really he was throwing a brick through the window of American war movies and giggling maniacally. So yeah, it didn’t connect with the mainstream. But cult status? Oh, buddy. That’s where it thrived.
Where did it gain traction? The holy trinity of late 90s media consumption: pay cable, rental stores, and home video. Once this thing hit VHS, it was on. Every weird kid who wasn’t allowed to see it in theaters suddenly had access to a world of topless shower scenes, decapitations, Michael Ironside losing limbs like a Civil War patient, and literal brain-sucking. And those cover boxes? Cue Mugatu’s quote from Zoolander: “Dead God, It’s Beautiful”. A chrome helmet, a terrified soldier, and the promise of war against bugs. It practically leapt off the Blockbuster shelf… And then came the toys.
Oh yes. There was a Starship Troopers toyline. Because nothing says “fun for ages 5 and up” like a movie where someone gets stabbed through the head by a giant arachnid. Galoob released a series of action figures and bug toys in 1997 that were—genuinely—awesome. You could get Johnny Rico, Ace Levy, and Sgt. Rasczak, all with weapons and interchangeable limbs. There were big, rubbery bug creatures with oozing slime and spring-loaded pincers. It was a weird time when R-rated films regularly got toys marketed to kids. RoboCop, Aliens, Terminator 2—and Starship Troopers fit right in. Did it make sense? Absolutely not. But were we thrilled as kids to shove Rico onto the back of a plastic tanker bug and pretend he was about to throw a grenade into its thorax? You better believe it. I had one of the bug toys, which felt like a Micro Machines Playset, where the bug could fire a torpedo and the little plastic soldiers could fire back… not literally. This isn’t Small Soldiers. All in all this was peak 90s excellence.
Fast forward to the 2000s and 2010s, and Starship Troopers started getting the love it deserved. It got multiple home video releases: DVD, collector’s editions, director commentaries where Verhoeven yells over Neumeier about fascism, and of course, the inevitable 4K Ultra HD release where you can see every individual leg hair on the bugs and every pore on Casper Van Dien’s flawless face. Today, it’s celebrated at repertory theaters, analyzed in college classrooms, and memed endlessly online. It spawned sequels, a CGI show, comics, and more. Most of them… let’s say… “exist.” The first sequel looked like it was shot on the leftover set of a Syfy Channel deodorant commercial. But nothing ever recaptured the beautiful madness of the original.
And in the years since, people have come to appreciate what Starship Troopers actually is: a prophetic, brutal, hilarious, and biting critique of military industrialism, nationalism, and the seductive power of fear-based media.
Look, if you grew up watching Starship Troopers as a kid, it probably blew your mind. It was RoboCop with better tans and worse acting. It was big, dumb, loud, and made you feel like you were part of something epic. And then you got older. You rewatched it. And suddenly… It wasn’t dumb at all. It was genius. This is the kind of film that doesn’t ask for your attention—it demands it. It tricks you into rooting for the empire, then reveals the cost of obedience in a world that’s gone mad on war. It’s Dr. Strangelove for Mountain Dew drinkers. But overall, it still holds up almost 30 years later.
So next time someone tells you Starship Troopers is just a cheesy sci-fi bug movie, look them in the eye, say “I’m from Buenos Aires and I say kill ‘em all,” and then show them the Brain Bug scene. Because Starship Troopers isn’t just a movie—it’s a litmus test. And if they don’t get it? Well… they probably wouldn’t survive Mobile Infantry anyway.
Two previous episodes of Revisited can be seen below. To see more of our shows, head over to the JoBlo Horror Originals channel – and subscribe while you’re at it!
Arrow in the Head
