The General’s Daughter If you fall into a pit filled with shit, do you sit there and endure the stench, or do you rant and rave and curse the person who dug the pit? Unfortunately, it is my job to take the stench. And with The General’s daughter, take it I did, much as a Tijuana showgirl might take a throbbing equine member. The only difference is, when the show’s over, I get to kick a little donkey ass.
This movie assaulted (and insulted) my intelligence, my senses, my theories of good and evil, my love for Vinnie Barbarino, and reamed the very bunghole of my mind. Fuck! what an awful movie!
John Travolta plays a cop who is also somehow a sergeant in the Army. He’s investigating the murder of the daughter of a powerful general. She’s also in the army, but happens to be a dominatrix on the side and is banging her way up through the ranks. Travolta’s sidekick in the investigation is Madeline Stowe, apparently a girlfriend of his from sometime in the past. This was a totally irrelevant subplot and provided nothing but idiotic “ex-lover” banter that I can only assume was supposed to provide comic relief. Ummm… it fails.
It turns out that the general’s daughter was brutally gang-raped by some fellow cadets when she was at West Point. The cadets were all camouflaged with leaves and face paint and shit when they raped her, so it looked like she was getting molested by the Swamp Thing. Anyway, to keep a lid on the whole situation and to prevent West Point from taking one on the chin, her powerful father forbids her to pursue any legal action. So what does she do to get revenge on her father? She gets naked, ties herself to the ground spread eagle, and confronts him about the rape. It was like some wacky Yoko Ono art exhibit from the late 60’s or something. This movie would’ve been a lot more meaningful as a slapstick comedy. Watch for the guy during the rape scene, all painted up in camouflage, jacking off his M-16 in slow motion as shells explode in the air behind him. It’s laugh out loud funny.
Most of the movie takes place in Georgia. Why do Southerners in the movies always have a glaze of sweat on their faces like they’ve all been munching on moist carpet? I’ve known a few southerners, and most of ’em head inside to the air conditioning at the first bead of sweat. Oh yeah, listen to Travolta butcher a southern accent at the beginning of the movie. He delivers every line like a “polecat done took a big ol’ dump in his mouth, ya heah?” Weeeee!!!!!!! doggggie!!!.