Since his "Up your nose with a rubber hose" days as a Sweathog, I've been something-less-than-a-fan of John Travolta.
I was more an Epstein guy during the Kotter years, and the white suit in Saturday Night Fever was too tight for my comfort. My girlfriend enjoyed Grease, and my kids enjoyed Looks Who's Talking. I tolerated him in Pulp Fiction, despite the dance scene with Uma Thurman that was a total send-up of his career.
It's his voice, I think. It's a nasal, high pitch tone that doesn't go with his body, and it's delivered with a strange rhythm and unusual inflection that makes me tilt my head sideways and whine.
Simply put, too much Travolta in any given flick drive me bonkers.
I picked up The Taking Of Pelham 123 based solely on my admiration for Denzel Washington. I knew Travolta was the villain in this hostages-for-cash-smoke-'n-mirrors remake of the 1970s thriller. I didn't expect to like Travolta in the role, or even appreciate his acting.
...But I did. God help me, I liked the movie and I liked Travolta in his role.
Just don't ask me to watch Look Who's Talking Now.