Sisters in Leather (1969) – Review

This gloriously low-budget, high-kink flick zooms right out of the 1960s underground scene like a Harley with no brakes and even less plot. Clocking in at just over an hour (mercifully?), it plays like a fever dream someone had after watching Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! while half-asleep on a shag rug.

Directed by Zoltan G. Spencer, a name often associated with fringe erotica of the era, Sisters in Leather is a steamy, rebellious little time capsule that blends biker culture, lesbian erotica, and a dash of pulp drama. The story — such as it is — centres around a group of tough, leather-clad lesbian bikers who kidnap a suburban housewife and indoctrinate her into their wild, sensual world. The plot kicks off when Joe (Dick Ossum), an unfaithful husband, is photographed making-out with an underage girl by a local lesbian biker gang. But the motives of this gang extend beyond mere extortion; they abduct Joe’s unsuspecting wife, Mary (Kathy Williams), introducing her to their world through a picnic and uninhibited motorcycle escapades. 

 

Who knew picnicking was a big thing with this set?

As gangs go the “Leather Sisters” aren’t all that impressive, consisting of only three members; Butch (Bambi Allen), Dolly (Karen Thomas), and Billie (Bonnie Clark), but somehow, they are enough to entangled Mary in their lifestyle. I guess some women are just suckers for leather and picnics. Joe, desperate to reclaim his wife, enlists a group of male bikers to confront the trio and rescue her from their influence. That’s it. That’s pretty much the plot. The film presents itself as a feminist biker movie, but ultimately plays out more like a misogynistic fantasy masquerading as empowerment. The climax features a confrontation with a male biker gang, descending into a chaotic mix of sexual violence and manipulation, which results in the women abandoning their previous identities. The implication is that all it took was aggressive male attention to “correct” them—an idea that reinforces deeply problematic and regressive gender stereotypes.

 

“Can you guys help me turn some lesbians straight tonight?”

Stray Observations:

• If your idea of a good make-out spot is an abandoned construction site, in broad daylight while in an open convertible, you deserve to be blackmailed by a lesbian biker gang.
• Characters speak like they’re reading erotic poetry translated from French and run through Google Translate. “If you don’t want my love, don’t expect my sympathy.” Okay, ma’am.
• Mary goes from a cheated-on wife to a sapphic lover in the span of about three seconds. One has to assume she already had these tendencies.
• The gang chose the same abandoned construction site to hold their “seduction picnic” for Mary, and I started to wonder if that was the only place in town to hang out.
• There is zero police presence in this movie. A roving gang of seductive biker women are going around upending polite society, and… no one calls the cops? Not even a concerned HOA member?

 

Is this an early version of Sin City?

From a filmmaking standpoint, it’s rough around the edges. The cinematography is gritty and occasionally out of focus, the editing is choppy, and the dialogue is mostly perfunctory or entirely absent. But what Sisters in Leather lacks in polish, it makes up for in sheer audacity. It was designed to shock — and in 1969, it probably did just that. Today, it plays more like kitsch: a relic from a time when just showing women in control of their own sexuality was considered outrageous. The film flirts with ideas of female empowerment, subverting traditional gender roles, and upending 1960s suburbia. But let’s be honest: it’s mostly an excuse to showcase taboo themes under the guise of counterculture commentary. There’s some genuine energy in its rebellious tone, but it’s often buried beneath the layers of softcore staging and campy direction. 

 

Isn’t there a good reason you wear leather on a motorcycle?

There’s a certain feminist undercurrent running through it (intentionally or not), as the women in the film reject traditional roles and assert dominance over their world, though any such message is entangled with the male-gaze, voyeuristic framing typical of the genre. That the film ends with the lesbian bikers being “turned straight” is the most disturbing aspect, but like many sexploitation films of its era, Sisters in Leather leans heavily on suggestion and titillation rather than any actual narrative substance. In fact, there’s very little narrative. The cinematography is utilitarian at best, with long, lingering shots that often feel like they’re padding out a runtime rather than contributing to a scene. Dialogue is minimal, and when it’s present, it’s stilted—more about creating atmosphere than developing characters. It’s the kind of movie that straddles the line between exploitation and subversion, and whether you see it as empowering or exploitative probably depends on your lens.

 

“How’s this for empowerment? I have a nightstick.”

Ultimately, Sisters in Leather is not high art, nor does it try to be. It’s a sleazy, provocative, oddly fascinating slice of ’60s underground cinema. If you’re a fan of cult films, exploitation flicks, or just curious about the wilder corners of vintage queer representation in film, it might be worth a look. Just don’t expect coherence — or clothes that stay on for very long.