Leslie, My Name Is Evil told me the story of something I didn't know, or even care about. When making a film about the life of Charles Manson and his deranged followers, you'd except them to at least show some of the murders they committed, or detail how they came to devotedly pursue his weird teachings. WRONG. We only see the briefest of excerpts of the hedonistic life they led... and what is revealed is so crummily acted, written and directed most people with a smartphone camera and a few spare hours could do better. Check out the scene with the couple sitting in their car, while a 'sunset' in the background... a more obvious use of bluescreen you'll never see. Atrocious.
Nope, instead of highlighting on the more 'sensationalist' aspects of the Manson case, it chooses to focus on one of the jury members at the trial... a good Christian boy who's about to be married. He has a patriotic gasbag of a father, and a loving fiancée wanting to wait until after they're hitched before jumping into the bed. That's the problem... due to his lack of 'physical activity' he starts to fantasize over one of the accused, an attractive little she-devil called Leslie. His weird dreams about her and the way they stare at each other across the courtroom all have one thing in common: they are very, very boring. So are his escapades at home. And the little chats with his bride-to-be.
In fact, they seem to have taken everything of interest about this fascinating case, surgically removed it and left us with nothing but offal. Which stinks. As does this sad excuse for a movie. Coincidence? Probably not. 2/10