The Worst of Netflix: Sorority Girls’ Revenge

Every week, I scour Netflix for a movie rated at one star and put it in my queue, suffering through it for your entertainment so that you don’t have to. In the past, I’ve taken on anime cancer demons, softcore Iraq War porn and racist ventriloquism, and this week, it’s the worst movie about sorority girls ever.  Really.


Starring:  Pandy the Dog (as herself) and the wretched stench of failure.

The thing about watching terrible movies on a professional basis is that no matter how many I watch, I always think I’ve hit rock bottom.  I’ve fooled myself a dozen times into thinking that I’ve seen the absolute worst film ever produced, and then spent the next week cheerily assuming at least now, that the next movie I watch has got to be better than the stuff that’s come before it.

And then I do something stupid like typing “sorority” into the Netflix search bar and find myself in a whole new world of suffering.

Sorority Girls Revenge

Sorority Girls’ Revenge is nothing short of an irredeemable cinematic atrocity.  I actually turned it off half an hour into it because I couldn’t take another godawful second, and I was getting paid to watch it.  I eventually came back because I value persistence, although the fact that I chose to apply it in order to finish Sorority Girls’ Revenge rather than, say, completing a college education probably says a lot about me.

Either way, it’s one of the worst movies I have ever seen, and you can lay that dishonor right at the feet of Keith Warn, who manages to hit the trifecta of being a terrible writer, a terrible director and a terrible actor.

Sorority Girls Revenge

Warn is unquestionably the most unappealing thing I’ve seen on film that didn’t have Jeff Dunham’s hand stuck up its ass.  He’s got a voice like someone using the sharp end of a crowbar to carve his initials into your brainstem, an utter lack of any talent in front of or behind the borrowed camcorder he used to shoot this thing, and looks vaguely like his picture should be on a notice mailed out when he moves into your neighborhood, although that might just be because he made a movie revolving around a father and son (he plays the father) trying to run a train on four sorority girls.

I mean, you can’t fault the guy for living his dream — no matter how creepy that dream may be — but since he gets pretty much everything he wants to do out of the way within the first eight minutes…

Sorority Girls Revenge

…he then moves into just filming the girls sitting around telling Monica Lewinsky jokes for a Goddamn hour.

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