“It’s here! Confused Views is here! Yes! Finally. I’ve been waiting all week for a new one. I thought they were never going to put it up!”
Those words up there, that’s you, that is. I know how it is. Wednesday night and you can’t sleep. Too excited. You creep downstairs just before midnight, turn on the computer and see if it’s up yet. Of course, it isn’t, though, because it never is so early and so you sneak back up to bed. After some restless half-sleep, you’re wide awake again and you look at your clock. 4:30 am. It’s morning now! Maybe it’s up. You throw the covers off and rush downstairs to boot up your computer. You get onto Den Of Geek but the articles are the same as yesterday’s.
You click refresh a few times but it comes back the same every time. Then Mum comes down. She’s not happy. Wants to know what you’re doing up this early. You try to explain but she sends you back to bed. She’s angry and she won’t listen to reason. You go back to bed, begrudgingly, but you won’t sleep. You lay in bed watching the clock. When it gets to 6 am, that’s all you can take. You bound down the stairs three steps at a time. You left the PC on (turned off the monitor for discretion, you bloody rascal) so you sit straight down and hit refresh. Still nothing.
Mum’s back down. She’s furious, but she sees the disappointed look on your face and she softens. “It’s never up this early,” she tells you, and puts a comforting arm around your shoulders. She’s right and you know she is. “They put the new articles up at around the same time every day,” she reminds you. Get ready for school, watch some telly and then have breakfast. By the time you’ve done all that it’ll be up.
So you throw your books in your bag, put the TV on and stuff your face full of breakfast. Then you run back to the computer and again test the refresh button. But it’s still not there. Mum sighs, chuckles to herself and says that it doesn’t work like that. You can’t have an early breakfast and then expect it to be there afterwards, you silly sausage. But you sit at your computer and just keep clicking the refresh button for two hours. Again and again and again. You check some other websites just to make sure your Internet connection is working. It is. You keep clicking refresh. Keep clicking refresh. Keep clicking refresh. Until finally, there it is! The new Confused Views, with its silly title and funny picture! What’s it gonna be about this week?
Well, aside from me prattling on about my inflated sense of self importance and my grand delusions as to the worth of what essentially amounts to a weekly update of toilet humour and ill-informed opinions, this week’s column is flailing for a subject. I attribute this partly to the unfair amount of pressure you’re all putting on me with your lofty expectations.
Anyway, I was going to write about the comedy films of 2009. I watched Funny People this week, which is a good film. Better than The Hangover, which, bizarrely, won a Golden Globe this week. I figured I could mention the terrific World’s Greatest Dad, which I’ve been itching to write about, along with (500) Days Of Summer and Adventureland. But the problem is that it’s difficult to write about comedy whilst being funny yourself.
So, instead I figured I’d base this week’s Confused Views on a horror film I rented this week, a remake called Sorority Row. It’s not that relevant, but then until people start giving a shit about something that’s not Avatar it’s difficult to write about what’s going on in the world of cinema. I can’t just keep writing about Avatar all the time. It’s not that interesting. Or good.
This site ran a review of Sorority Row on Monday. Now, I would like to politely disagree.
There’s so much to hate about Sorority Row (and after that indulgent introduction, so little space to do it in). It’s a horror film based on another horror film, and tells the tale of a group of teenagers who accidentally kill a friend when a HIGH-LARIOUS rape-based practical joke goes wrong. They cover up the murder and a few years later they’re stalked down by someone who knows what they did. Last summer. If it had been up to me, the film would have been called ‘If I’d Known What You Did Last Summer I’d Have Rented Something Else’.
Despite it being a remake and the obvious plot similarities to other horror movies, the film this most reminded me of was the Prom Night remake. Both seem to be aimed at people who don’t know that the ‘M’ in MTV stands for music. These are films for people who consider My Super Sweet 16 to be aspirational television and think of Dizzee Rascal as a political figure. People who have that Boom Boom Pow. Chat room Lol’ers. Bastards.
Sorority Row features the same careless, inept production and stomach churning cynicism that made Prom Night such a big ask of reasonable viewers. The characters are largely the same as each other, except that the blonde one is a bitch and the one with glasses is a spineless, tearful nincompoop. Bizarrely, Carrie Fisher pops up a couple of times. She’s great and everything, but what on earth is she doing here? She’s better than this shit.
Also better than this shit is Rumer Willis, daughter of Demi Moore and Bruce Willis. She seems alright, but is infuriating in this film because she’s spends the whole time crying and being useless. She’s Die Hard‘s fucking daughter for fucking fuck’s sake. She shouldn’t be weeping in a cupboard in a crisis situation; she should be exploding things and brutally beating terrorists to death with her bare hands.
Sorority Row is a film that wore down my goodwill so quickly that minor, forgivable problems had me seething with rage. Like when they get sent a picture of them killing their friend and call it a text. I was so angry that I nearly hurled my television from my window onto the neighbour’s lovable dog, Mischief the poodle. It’s not a fucking text if it’s a picture, is it? It’s a picture message. A text refers to a message that contains, you know, text.
One day humanity might be put on trial by some self-righteous ultra-violent alien race and asked to justify our existence. If they find out about Sorority Row, that’s it. The apocalypse. And should there be survivors post-apocalypse, I’d like to volunteer to track down anyone who contributed to this film that survived and kick them slowly to death. You can all watch.
Fortunately, unlike Prom Night, which made a bum-load of money, Sorority Row didn’t perform well at the box office. It seems that teenagers have moved on to romantic dramas about chiselled melancholic vampires and lovelorn dancing werewolves and aren’t interested in this particular brand of bullshit anymore. So, hopefully, we won’t see any more like this for a while.
However, just in case we do, I’ve come up with a technological innovation to make the DVDs of these films that much more enjoyable. What I’m suggesting is that instead of a director commentary available as a bonus feature, they provide a fart track to play over the film.
Sorority Row was ridiculous, but with a couple hundred well timed fart noises would have been an amusing evening in. Just think about it, Hollywood. That’s all I’m saying.