Frat Girls Go To Hell!!
Wow! What a stellar opening sequence! Big time one take shot that moves through a killer frat party. Hot!! Girls dancing with their bums hanging out. Sweet!! An impromptu dance number! Boing!! Half nekkid chicks getting their bellies painted. Why wasn't I ever in a frat? Wait... what's that you say? This isn't a frat party? It's a sorority party? What! But all the frat sisters are talking smut and slamming shots and funneling beers and showing each other their puppies. You sure this ain't a frat party? What's that you say? Oh yeah, you're right... It's a frat boys wet dream.
What a ridiculously moronic movie this was. Yeah sure, hot girls trotting around in drool inducing wardrobes -- I get it! I like it!! I'm not a dick. But please, if there is ever a court trial that will forever outlaw horror remakes, I'm gonna put on my tightest, shortest Ally McBeal courtroom dandy outfit and enter Sorority Row as Exhibit A B C D E F and G. What a load of wasted DNA.
As the wild party drills on, the top dog Sisters gather to toast their graduating and moving out into the real world to be possible future Real Housewives cast members. To top off their night they prank one of the Sister's beaus. He's been a naughty bird, pecking around another girls seedlings, and so, as the Sisters say, you don't mess with a Beta Phi -- or whatever the eff frat they belong to. Anyway, they pretend that he's OD'd his girlfriend with roofies, and convince him that they need to bury her body to avoid ruining their lives. Nice prank, eh! Only the doofus wants to make sure the girl is totally dead by driving a tire iron into her breastbone. Dun dun dah!! What follows is the worst bit of screenwriting ever imagined. Instead of being just scared, stupid, vapid girls trying not to shit their spankies, the writers (I won't embarrass them by revealing names) trot out the most ridiculous speech about damaged images and ruined careers and scarlet letters. But wait -- they didn't murder the girl. The stupid tweaked out boy did. They're scott-free, if they just had any sense. But the more they discuss the situation, the more convoluted it gets. So, long and short -- the Sisters start getting texts (how absolutely trendy) from the dead girl.Oh snap! Who's sending them? Is it the hot little sister of the dead Sister? Is it the disgusting, smelly janitor who peeks in the windows at their pillow fights (never happened) or is it the boyfriend of the heroine, who is so obviously the killer, because he is so obviously the least likely to be the killer -- oops! I mean spoiler alert.
Sorry, didn't mean to ruin the, um... surprise ending. Oh hell -- I totally meant it. Seriously, I would say don't bother with this flick... except for all the girls. There is some good acting here -- especially Leah Pipes as the head bitch Jessica. She gives a performance that was a throwback to the nasty bitch girls of the 70s and 80s slashers, even though the writers crafted her as yet another Mean Girlesque knock-off.
The direction and writing was def Zeta grade. You can just imagine the writers high-5ing and bumping tummies as they write the words midriff and breasts, and dream up tired, played out kill sequences. I actually have no idea why this even shares the name Sorority Row. It bears no resemblance to the classic original -- aside from the obvious. Is the title suppose to draw the over 40 crowd who would likely have seen the original? Were 20somethings just chomping at the bit, screaming about wanting another remake of a horror flick that they have no prior knowledge of? Honestly, I think they have an octopus on staff, who presses IMDb buttons to select the next candidate for a worthless remake.