Sorority Party Massacre – a horror move that plays out exactly as advertised. There’s a sorority, some type of party, and obviously a massacre – real brain tickler, right? Writer/Director Chris W. Freeman lays his hand of Playboy playing cards in full view, introducing a cast of young vixens bouncing off any provocative stereotype imaginable. This isn’t just B-Movie horror, this is career starting, “take the first gig I can get” type horror that’s minimal chills and maximum, um, playfulness? Yeah, that’s the best way to put it. Does this massacre feature cameos by Kevin Sorbo and Ron Jeremy? Of course. Is there random, bare-chested nudity for the hell of it? You betcha’! Are sorority sisters imagined as murderous bimbos exploited for sexuality? Thank God. It’s 3AM and you’re looking for some typical late-night silliness to watch – is Sorority Party Massacre right for you? ‘Tis a fair question.
The story is simple – an exquisite group of sorority sisters are brought to a secluded island in hopes of winning an illustrious scholarship. Given to only one lucky winner, an element of competition is introduced early on, as the girls are forced to endure punishment and testing from their host, Stella (Leslie Easterbrook). When one of the girls doesn’t show up, her father becomes suspicious, and being a police chief, he sends an unlucky officer to locate his daughter. What the officer finds during his island getaway is a mystery full of dead young college girls, a small community run by two influential members, and a larger problem than expected. Cop shows up, he gets nosey, people start dying – it’s the age old story of hazing, no?
Here’s the thing – look at the promotional picture above. Seriously, look at it. With so many goofball tactics executed throughout Sorority Party Massacre, it’s blatantly obvious that Chris W. Freeman forcefully tried to create a B-Movie that would hopefully find cult worship. The formula is kindergarten level – take some hot, smoking, sultry vixens, dress them scantily, heavily douse your film in sexuality, throw in a few deaths, and hope your audience has a good time. You know what? People will. I know the exact audience perfectly accepting of such indie schlock, and while Sorority Party Massacre sets the female agenda back to Stone Age levels, at least bros can have a drunken night of debaucherous fun?
On the other hand, it doesn’t even seem like Freeman actually tries at times. Whether it be the “simpleton” gardener being used for a laugh (mental deficiencies are a laughing matter apparently) or an Indiana Jones whip-crack sound effect being used for a swinging chain, a METAL swinging chain, it’s hard to even laugh – instead finding a head shake easier. While I can’t argue with some of the gory effects, an aspect that actually adds horror depth to such an easy write-off, the absolute simplicity and brainlessness of Sorority Party Massacre redefines the definition of a “midnight movie,” but again, it does so with zero apologies. Dead college girls covered in bee stings looked grotesquely bloated and insanely realistic, so kudos on the brutal visuals, but when coupled with absolutely atrocious dialogue, like “a girl referring to her fists as fictional boxers” atrocious, you better be expecting bottom of the barrel chuckles.
As far as sorority girls go, Freeman covers every possible clique. From the big-breasted, witless model to the badass New York City girl so cleverly named Brooklyn, our characters galavant about in ways that once again redefine the established norms of personality stereotypes. Blonde, buxom babes, hidden lesbians, jealous rage – Sorority Party Massacre is estrogen-fueled satire without an ounce of wit. Puking chicks, seductive looks, bitchy comments, cowering in groups – these aren’t characters, these are sketches from the mind of a college frat dude blinded by a misogynist mentality.
Of course, we now return full circle, because this is a movie titled Sorority Party Massacre. If you seriously want to cry misogyny, don’t pick the movie about sorority girls getting offed one by one while competing for a scholarship. Just don’t. You’ve probably seen a microbudget horror movie before, you’ve also probably seen a softcore porno before (at some point?), so just mix those elements (with a little less emphasis on the softcore porn), and boom – you know what to expect. This is the kind of horror movie that ends with Ron Jeremy getting a swirly – absolutely nothing to do with the murder mystery previously explored. Ha! Toilet humor! Leave ’em wanting more – right?
