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When John Travolta first opens his mouth during the opening credits of
The General's Daughter and speaks in a terrible Southern cracker drawl, one briefly hopes that the movie will turn out to be just as hilariously bad. Unfortunately, the accent is soon revealed to be part of a disguise, and the movie is just as quickly unveiled as a clumsy, run-of-the-mill potboiler. A female officer is discovered strangled and tied to the ground; she's the title character, and because of the general's political ambitions, the mystery of who did it and why has to be wrapped up in 36 hours by Travolta and fellow CID officer Madeleine Stowe (
Last of the Mohicans,
12 Monkeys). Sexual violence and lurid S&M have been thrown in to shore up the incomprehensible plot, but that only adds to the queasy atmosphere. The supporting actors--an impressive collection including James Woods (
Salvador), Timothy Hutton (
Ordinary People), and James Cromwell (
Babe,
L.A. Confidential)--don't embarrass themselves, but even they can't make sense of their blustering, macho dialogue. It's amazing that screenwriter William Goldman (who wrote such great and genuinely thrilling films as
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,
Marathon Man,
All the President's Men, and
Misery) left his name attached to this script; there's no sign of his usual skill and intelligence. Madeleine Stowe, a graceful presence in any film, is equally wasted. Directed with a lot of empty flash by Simon West (
Con Air).
--Bret Fetzer
From The New Yorker
A classic case of Hollywood hypocrisy and ineptitude. On an Army base in the South, investigators Madeleine Stowe and John Travolta (acting with his belly and chin) try to solve the murder-rape of an Army captain-the general's daughter. The movie expresses its outrage over violence against women by showing the victim naked and spread-eagled again and again. The lurid narrative is so disorganized that even one's lowest appetites remain unsatisfied. With James Cromwell, Timothy Hutton, and James Woods. Directed by Simon West and written by Christopher Bertolini and William Goldman, from a novel by Nelson DeMille. -David Denby
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker