There's a tiny, otherwise throwaway scene in Sorority Row that pretty much nails the appeal of this particular subset of slasher. As the Rosman University campus erupts in a shower of booze, barfing and bubble-bath during a graduation party, a cowled hooded figure in a black graduation gown wends its way through the throng. Could it be the serial killer who's been picking off the sorority girls and their boyfriends? As the ominous music swells and crescendos, the cowl is suddenly flung off to reveal... a half-naked babe with big jiggling funbags! Wha-hey! And there you have it: the timeless confluence of sex and death could hardly be made more crassly explicit. If only there was as much substance to the rest of the movie.
As we join them, the honey pies of Theta Pi, including queen bitch Jessica (Leah Pipes), five-boys-nightly Chugs (Margo Harshman) and bookish Ellie (Rumer Willis) - a "spellchecker with a nice rack" - are playing a trick on Chugs' brother Garrett (Matt O'Leary), who's been cheating on Sorority sister Megan (Audrina Patridge). The upshot of said 'prank' is almost too unbelievable to relate, but there's no taming these psychotic Hollywood screenwriters nowadays, lurking furtively round the Sunset Strip like rabid skunks. Garrett is given some fake Rohypnol by the girls, who encourage him to slip it to Megs. "You get to have sex - and a good night sleep!" as they say. Megs starts foaming at the mouth (all part of the joke, it's really baking soda! Hahahaha!!) and while still feigning death, she's driven to an old disused mining quarry by Garrett and the girls, who discuss how best to dispose of her body. Regrettably, at the point Megan is about to be 'revived', a panicked Garrett plunges a tire iron into her chest to get rid of the air in her lungs so she'll sink better. Better invoke that old Theta Pi motto of "Trust, respect, honour, secrecy and solidarity". In other words, it's ding dong bell, Megan's down the well.
Eight tight-lipped months later, on graduation day, the girls' guilty consciences finally catch up with them in the shape of an unseen murderer, who starts picking them off with a pimped-out tire iron. Who's the psycho? A now unhinged Garrett? Megan's newly-enrolled younger sister Maggie (Caroline D'Amore)? Perhaps even Megan herself, somehow returned from the dead to exact her grisly supernatural revenge? And after nearly 101 tedium-filled minutes, will anyone give a tuppenny toss?
The derivative 'Row (shower scene with obliging nipple flash - tick; unstoppable killer - tick; bimbettes wearing three-quarters of nothing and their bums literally hanging out of their jimjams - tick) is not only a lame remake of a movie from a widely derided, bastardised sub-genre (a strong exception: Bob Clark's original Black Christmas), it also exemplifies the fundamental problem many have with horror-comedies, being neither funny or spine-chilling enough to convince on either level. If the comedy is tastelessly fudged, the shocks are purely of the jump-scare variety. The makers even successfully argued the BBFC down to get their 15 certificate - that's how seriously it takes its horror. Among the incidental character credits, the likes of "Stoned Dude", "Waster Guy" and "Bra-Clad Sister", is a certain, mystifying "Sea Pig." Type that into Google images, and we can guarantee you that what pops onto your monitor will disturb you more than anything on show here.
It does, however, have one ace to play, in the glorious, fiftysomething shape of Carrie Fisher, cameoing as housemother Mrs Crenshaw, a soppy if iron-willed spinster prepared to protect her girls at all costs. "Please don't think I'm afraid of you" she sneers at the advancing killer, "I run a house with 50 crazy bitches." Filmmakers, take note! Whether armed with a double-barrelled shotgun, a rebel blaster or, in the case of The Blues Brothers, a 4-barrelled rocket launcher, a tooled-up Fisher always adds instant value to any movie. If only she could be arsed to script-doctor them all too.
As we join them, the honey pies of Theta Pi, including queen bitch Jessica (Leah Pipes), five-boys-nightly Chugs (Margo Harshman) and bookish Ellie (Rumer Willis) - a "spellchecker with a nice rack" - are playing a trick on Chugs' brother Garrett (Matt O'Leary), who's been cheating on Sorority sister Megan (Audrina Patridge). The upshot of said 'prank' is almost too unbelievable to relate, but there's no taming these psychotic Hollywood screenwriters nowadays, lurking furtively round the Sunset Strip like rabid skunks. Garrett is given some fake Rohypnol by the girls, who encourage him to slip it to Megs. "You get to have sex - and a good night sleep!" as they say. Megs starts foaming at the mouth (all part of the joke, it's really baking soda! Hahahaha!!) and while still feigning death, she's driven to an old disused mining quarry by Garrett and the girls, who discuss how best to dispose of her body. Regrettably, at the point Megan is about to be 'revived', a panicked Garrett plunges a tire iron into her chest to get rid of the air in her lungs so she'll sink better. Better invoke that old Theta Pi motto of "Trust, respect, honour, secrecy and solidarity". In other words, it's ding dong bell, Megan's down the well.
Eight tight-lipped months later, on graduation day, the girls' guilty consciences finally catch up with them in the shape of an unseen murderer, who starts picking them off with a pimped-out tire iron. Who's the psycho? A now unhinged Garrett? Megan's newly-enrolled younger sister Maggie (Caroline D'Amore)? Perhaps even Megan herself, somehow returned from the dead to exact her grisly supernatural revenge? And after nearly 101 tedium-filled minutes, will anyone give a tuppenny toss?
The derivative 'Row (shower scene with obliging nipple flash - tick; unstoppable killer - tick; bimbettes wearing three-quarters of nothing and their bums literally hanging out of their jimjams - tick) is not only a lame remake of a movie from a widely derided, bastardised sub-genre (a strong exception: Bob Clark's original Black Christmas), it also exemplifies the fundamental problem many have with horror-comedies, being neither funny or spine-chilling enough to convince on either level. If the comedy is tastelessly fudged, the shocks are purely of the jump-scare variety. The makers even successfully argued the BBFC down to get their 15 certificate - that's how seriously it takes its horror. Among the incidental character credits, the likes of "Stoned Dude", "Waster Guy" and "Bra-Clad Sister", is a certain, mystifying "Sea Pig." Type that into Google images, and we can guarantee you that what pops onto your monitor will disturb you more than anything on show here.
It does, however, have one ace to play, in the glorious, fiftysomething shape of Carrie Fisher, cameoing as housemother Mrs Crenshaw, a soppy if iron-willed spinster prepared to protect her girls at all costs. "Please don't think I'm afraid of you" she sneers at the advancing killer, "I run a house with 50 crazy bitches." Filmmakers, take note! Whether armed with a double-barrelled shotgun, a rebel blaster or, in the case of The Blues Brothers, a 4-barrelled rocket launcher, a tooled-up Fisher always adds instant value to any movie. If only she could be arsed to script-doctor them all too.