RJ Bayley Reviews: My Little Sister
There are plenty of bad grindhouse movies out there whose existence as examples of low budget 70s/80s filmmaking make them more valuable to fans than they would normally be. Films like The House on the Edge of the Park and I Spit on Your Grave.
Having said that, there are plenty of these films’ contemporaries that are so badly made that they don’t get a whisper of admiration. Night of the Bloody Apes and Gestapo’s Last Orgy, I’m looking at you.
It seems however, that some less well-made films do get away with more incompetence due to them being in the right place at the right time, even if they didn’t benefit at that time itself.
I was trying to work out if I would like My Little Sister more if it was 30 years old.
Yes, probably. But not much.
My Little Sister comes out of the gates at Full Grindhouse, barreling into your senses with a potent sequence of a masked man cutting off a captive’s face, while cutting the arm off another with a strimmer. The effect of the face getting ripped off is realistically gruesome and sets the film up to be a good old splatter romp. But like Christina Aguilera’s singing, My Little Sister hits the most intense notes first, then has nowhere to go.
Quickly it slides into the most tired of cheap exploitation cliches. The majority takes places in a forest, with the rest unfolding in an abandoned building of some kind within them. The protagonist is a very badly acted woman who just stumbles away from the serial killer, losing him, only to be found again, on repeat. There’s a mysterious local who appears threatening but is just trying to warn them about the killer. The villain is a stooping maniac who wear’s a human skin mask. Called Igor. Igor for Christ’s sake!
It is especially boring and predictable and not worth anyone’s time. I hope those women who appeared topless in it got a lot of money for doing so.
My Little Sister gets very old, very fast. But not old enough to compensate for it’s many, many flaws.