In perhaps the most unlikely franchise in horror history, I Spit on Your Grave III: Vengeance Is Mine is, despite its number, a direct sequel to the 2010 remake of Meir Zarachi’s notorious 1978 rape-revenger. With flashbacks to her ordeal throughout, Jennifer (Sarah Butler, reprising her role) has rechristened herself as Angela, part of her strategy to carve out a new life far removed from her trauma and its associated demons.
This proves impossible, because Jennifer/Angela is a veritable perv magnet, attracting unwanted glances, attention, touches and threats everywhere she goes. (Seriously, it is ridiculous how many men are shown checking out her behind, whether followed by a lewd comment or not.) She is encouraged to attend group therapy for rape survivors; reluctantly, she does and ends up making an empowering friend in the emo wild child Marla (soap star Jennifer Landon, daughter of Michael). Marla hatches an interesting plan for coping — one that involves ski masks and tools pilfered from hardware stores.
Just when Vengeance Is Mine veers too much toward made-for-TV territory, it more than lives up to its sleazy lineage, once Marla’s hobby rubs off on our heroine, and she takes to it with uncomfortable ease, thereby reverting to her old ways. (Remember, the remake drew heavy influence from the Saw oeuvre.)
Two scenes in particular outdo (read: outgross) the ’78 original’s bathtub bit, which made male viewers reach for their crotches and cross their legs in empathetic pain: First, Jennifer/Angela pierces and slices a ballpark frank — yes, I’m being euphemistic, lest readers faint — with a knife and then, using just her bloodied hands, yanks its halves apart as if competing for a Fastest Taffy Pull trophy. Next, she tells another unfortunate male chauvinist, “You don’t deserve lubricant, but it just won’t go in otherwise.” Pipe, sledgehammer — you could use your imagination, but director R.D. Braunstein (100 Degrees Below Zero) assumes you don’t have one, so he shows it all. Ouch! —Rod Lott