Reviews

Sin Sisters

Sin SistersIn the grand tradition of Seduction Cinema’s salivatory but fib-prone DVD covers, at no point in this movie does CineSchlocker heartthrob Misty Mundae two-fist firearms nor does her real-life half sis Chelsea brandish a scattergun, although they DO put every ounce of their precious little hearts into living up to the flick’s hell-on-wheels title. For the first 20 minutes, our pasty Jersey sirens cavort poolside in sunny California, a setting well familiar to hardcore porn enthusiasts barring the oddball set dressing of several dainty potted plants. One’s probably not supposed to notice, though, especially while Misty pulls out a great big carving knife, slices her string bikini to the ground and does the hippy hippy shake au natural for a drooling pool boy to an industrial score that sounds something akin to rusty trash cans pinballing along the information superhighway. Not to be outdone, Chelsea attempts to lure the gap jawed young fella’s attention by fellating a banana — a reasonably quick-witted ploy that just might’ve worked if Misty hadn’t opted to obstruct his view with her holiest of holies. It’s along about this time that yours truly realized that nary a SYLLABLE of dialogue had been spoken thus far.

However, when the yapping finally ensues, it does so to serve an Of Mice and Men tinged erotic melodrama that might’ve been wholly unbearable if not for the Mundae Family penchant for schoolgirl getups and Misty’s TEN MINUTE shower scene in which she seems really, really intent on getting a certain patch of her anatomy squeaky clean. But hygiene is the least of her worries when she and Chelsea go road tripping with a brained corpse in their trunk and find themselves stranded in a mountain cabin with the oh-so silky Julian Wells, in maximum femme fatale mode, who makes them play kinkified parlor games at gunpoint.

These include a sort of orgasmic sack race and a particularly cruel "Truth or Dare" match — where Misty awkwardly EMOTES whilst verbally abusing her sister — and later devolves into rearranging the lovely mug of Andrea "Tootsie Pops" Davis with a frying pan. Despite director Tony Marsiglia‘s earnest efforts, CineSchlockers will undoubtedly find themselves scampering back to the showers when the absurdly overwrought film noir plotline sputters. Those anxious for more Mundaes are well served by a 12-minute, often strangulating look at "The Exploitation Cinema of Chelsea and Misty Mundae," and in the photo littered liner notes, writer Bruce G. Hallenbeck files a revealing interview with Ms. Chelsea.

Eight breasts. Two corpses. Advanced lesbian tongue rasslin. Unsanctioned use of tanning lotion. Amazing quick-dry hair. Drunken driving. Crocodile tears. Severed wangdoodle necrophilia. Lonely wood nymph Wells purrs: "You’re my guests. I wouldn’t dream of letting you leave without a little fun. Fun and games."