The cast seemed promising, as did the weak reference to Chekhov, but wow is this movie bad. The writing is shamefully bad, swinging like a pendulum from bathos to banal pop psychology. It's clear that the actors gave up. Nobody's any good in it. My wife and I watched for ~ten minutes, stared at each other in amazement, and then somehow managed to endure the restwe've given up on far better moviesout of some macabre fascination. What kept us watching was probably the question: How does somebody make a movie this bad with so many creditable actors? Apparently I'm supposed to write at least ten lines, but that seems a shame for such an awful movie. I can say, though, that my strongest impression about the movie is that both the writer and director seem to have never experienced an honest emotion in their lives to have collaborated to create something like this.
Review of The Sisters
