The girls of Theta Pi struggle to comprehend their algebra homework.
I was really expecting to hate this.
I had visions of my own vitriol manifesting itself as a kind of bubbling green ooze and spewing out of every orifice onto the page. Au contraire, I actually had une blaste.
Sure, it offers nothing new on the storytelling front and it's predictable to a fault, but I got swept along by it and I'm going to tell you why. In fact, I'm going to make a bold statement; Sorority Row is exactly the kind of trashy exploitation film that Quentin Tarantino has sought to emulate throughout his career, but with none of his pretensions.
Stop me if you've heard this one: Six sorority sisters accidentally murder one of their own during a ridiculously elaborate prank (whoopsies!) and make only the barest of efforts to cover it up, only to be stalked by a mysterious killer who favors a ludicrous weapon. Sound familiar? That's because it's painfully unoriginal, which is its biggest shortfall -- a shortfall, might I add, that never stops it from being bloody good fun.
Sorority Row manages to be visually arresting thanks to cinematographer Ken Seng and some inventively violent set-pieces that make good use of a pimped-out tire iron, which has to be seen to be believed. It even has a pretty damned good original score to keep things rolling along nicely, and the script is full of genuine wit and laugh-out-loud comedy, even when it lacks real surprises.
There are some moments of pointless repetition, where the admittedly thin plot is still being explained to us almost an hour into the movie, but pure cinematic zest and a swift pace keep it from being bogged down too much.
With a sly and dark sense of humour that keeps its audience smiling and a running time of 101 minutes, you can be sure that Sorority Row doesn't outstay its welcome.
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
Something Awful reviews the latest films in a straightforward (for SA) manner.