Scott Glenn flips pouty Travolta the bird!
Donning a black fishnet shirt (was the costumer's intent to make Travolta look manlier by comparison?- it didn't work),
grinning up a storm, and chomping the shit out of the tequila worm (in a bit of improv),
Glenn ensures that his slimy character-actin' country-western bizarre-itude will be remembered for all time. See, Hollywood? That's what you get for burying him in a bit part in APOCALYPSE NOW the year prior. This is full-force Glenn unleashed, and there's no stoppin' him!
As for the film itself? Imagine if Cannon Films, during its dance-craze phase (BREAKIN', RAPPIN' SALSA, LAMBADA), made a country-fried remake of ROCKY, except instead of boxing in Philly it was about mechanical bull-riding in Houston. Also, imagine if the film I've just described was engineered with the sort of corporate sincerity designed to win Oscars in a cheap, sleazy, kinda proto-FLASHDANCE/OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN way.
Also, prepare yourself to hear "Lookin' for Love in All the Wrong Places" at least fifty-seven times. Yee-haw!
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