Editorials
‘The House on Sorority Row’ and ‘Sorority Row’ Fulfill Different Horror Cravings [Revenge of the Remakes]
Mark Rosman‘s The House on Sorority Row (1982) and Stewart Hendler‘s Sorority Row (2009) feel shoved aside in their respective horror classes. Titles like Pieces, Black Christmas, and The Dorm That Dripped Blood get more frequent mentions when discussing pre-90s sorority or dormitory slashers. Remake debates rarely include Sorority Row in their reassessments of unfairly stigmatized 2000s horror revamps based on nostalgia biases (among other reasons). It’s interesting how both seem equally less popular despite their amassed cult followings after meager box office openings.
It’s almost like Hendler attempted to shake the original’s mojo by deeming Sorority Row an adaptation of Rosman’s screenplay Seven Sisters — the earlier iteration of what would become The House on Sorority Row. Don’t mind the trickiness because Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger write their re-imagining indebted to The House on Sorority Row. Maybe late-2000s remake fatigue led to the marketing position in an attempt to separate Sorority Row from trolls screaming for more originality in horror cinema (countless remakes showcase creative originality, don’t get me started)? It’s undoubtedly farther removed from The House on Sorority Row than The Hitcher is from Robert Harmon’s inaugural ride or Quarantine from Spain’s infinitely scarier outbreak — but we shouldn’t shun its remake merits.
The Approach
‘The House on Sorority Row’ (1982)
Mark Rosman’s position as Executive Producer on Sorority Row doesn’t mean there’s a preciousness about following The House on Sorority Row like a blueprint. Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger pen a script that differentiates itself with an introduction that implies alternative killer motivations, passages of time, and deeper contemplation of soul-eating secrets. Rosman torments his sorority sisters over a few nights and empowers fertility experiments gone haywire — Stewart Hendler oversees how bonds built under traumatic secrecy eventually crack over long periods. Sorority Row takes an idea and speculates further, where The House on Sorority Row crams as much murderous mayhem and Hitchcockian mystery into a single end-of-year serving.
In Sorority Row, Meghan (Audrina Patridge) is missing — or that’s what the sisters of Theta Pi want authorities to believe. Jessica (Leah Pipes), Claire (Jamie Chung), and Chugs (Margo Harshman) initially defend their Theta bestie by pranking Chugs’ brother Garrett (Matt O’Leary) because he’s a terrible boyfriend to Meghan (atop countless other frat-pest offenses). Unfortunately, Meghan’s fake-out overdose ends in actual death when Garrett plunges a tire iron into the sorority hottie’s supposed corpse. Cassidy (Briana Evigan) insists the Theta’s phone an ambulance, but Jessica demands guilty parties take the secret to their graves lest their post-graduate years be spent in prison. Everyone holds the information until graduation day, when a threatening picture message and the appearance of Meghan’s sister causes Theta Ellie’s (Rumer Willis) wits to crumble — then bodies start hitting the floor.
Both films are byproducts of their eras, definable by the celebratory liquor and booze toasts in each iteration. The House on Sorority Row circles its ladies as they jokingly rib but adore one another, while Sorority Row uses the ceremonial pre-game to highlight the problematic bitchiness of its backstabbing, shit-talking characters. Rosman’s adoration of 1955’s Les Diaboliques stresses suspenseful investigations as Katey (Kathryn McNeil) pieces together clues that lead to a jester-dressed manchild under the prude Slater’s (Lois Kelso Hunt) care. Hendler approaches villain stalks more linearly like I Know What You Did Last Summer or Scream, where it’s more about faces in a crowd and the spectacle of 2000s horror era slayings. The original implements morbid hallucinations and psychological unrest, while Summit Entertainment’s remake hacks through bodies without grand conspiracies or further embellishment.
Does It Work?
‘Sorority Row’ (2009)
Sorority Row emblemizes how nastier 2000s horror remakes approached their ruthless reinvigoration of older-school titles. Where The House on Sorority Row features DC-based powerpop band 4 Out of 5 Doctors and a sillier subplot where blind date Peter (Michael Kuhn) gets continually drunker throughout the unbelievable night, Sorority Row fixates on mean girls, predatory men, and heaping spoonfuls of atonement through brutality. Mark Rosman’s vision is more about the chase and speculation turning into this looming specter, where Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger execute storytelling that’s hellbent on punishment. The House on Sorority Row asserts Vicki (Eileen Davidson) as the coverup mastermind so that we can sympathize more with her sorority accomplices. Sorority Row implicates everyone immediately — in the latter, we’re rooting for deaths from the shocking roofies-and-voyeurism prank introduction.
Stewart Hendler leans into the pettiness and dysfunction of Greek life traditions, from slut-shaming to scathing disses about physical appearance. Sorority Row has no filter (positively and negatively), which leads to hilarious moments as Pipes accentuates the shallow mercilessness of Jessica when making jokes about Meghan’s death. She’s the Vicki replacement and performs well beyond her comparison because Sorority Row lets its Theta Pi sweeties act like frat bros would in any other reductive slasher about collegiate stereotypes. The men of Sorority Row are all sharks sniffing blood from HR nightmare in training Mickey (Maxx Hennard) to horny psychiatrist Dr. Rosenburg (Ken Bolden) — and they’re handled by the killer’s pimped-out mechanic’s weapon. Stolberg and Goldfinger lay an exploitative foundation that skewers disturbing fraternal behaviors a decade before 2019’s Black Christmas would do the same, even if their methods can be a bit abrasive in the name of authenticity.
There’s an assertive 2000s horror sheen about Sorority Row that stands proudly alongside The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003), Friday the 13th (2009), and others I’ve covered thus far on “Revenge of the Remakes” — but also honors since-ousted 80s slasher signatures. Hendler doesn’t shy away from nudity, introducing Theta Pi with a pajama pillow fight party where a trampoline-hopping attendees’ bare rump flashes to all. There’s more flesh in Sorority Row than I’ve seen in the last three years worth of horror releases, as well as cringey-but-perfect needle drops that again summon a rather 80s attitude of treating horror like this after-midnight party. No one’s shy about their intentions with Sorority Row, as the film achieves a rarer blend of ferocious 2000s slasher intensity while still channeling freer 80s boundaries that loved sex, blood, and rock n’ roll.
The Result
‘Sorority Row’ (2009)
Sorority Row is a sinfully entertaining remake about drunkards, fornication, and the unspeakable horrors of upper-class white America. From the very first shot of house mother Mrs. Crenshaw (Carrie Fisher) sipping on alcohol — this isn’t old lady Slater — to Crenshaw’s badass shotgun rampage, Stewart Hendler recalls slasher remakes like Silent Night (2012) and Black Christmas (2006) that upgrade massacre sprees. Tremendous strides are taken to separate the more familiar hunt-and-gut Sorority Row from Mark Rosman’s vastly more complicated The House on Sorority Row, as cattiness becomes a calling card that makes Mean Girls look like Kindergarten Yo Momma. Scummy pools are swapped for overheating hot tubs, a very House Of Wax (2005) finale goes up in flames, and there’s no grand reveal of bodies despite the chilling image of sunken souls in The House on Sorority Row that remains seared into my memories.
Then again, despite what the creators behind Sorority Row claim, it’s a remake of The House on Sorority Row. Homages and callbacks are sprinkled throughout, from a broken top-floor window during the film’s opening to Cassidy’s beak-tipped cane weapon when she attempts to rescue Claire. A steamy shower encounter recalls Jeanie’s (Robin Meloy) bathroom decapitation. Rosman University is dedicated to Mark Rosman because without The House on Sorority Row, there’d be no Sorority Row. Hendler ensures there’s “justification” behind a remake that never dares replicate the almost soapy mad scientist Slaughter High vibes of The House on Sorority Row because a good remake drags its source kicking and screaming into contemporary relevance — for better and/or worse.
Special Effects Coordinator Steve Riley nails the gruesomeness of spectacle deaths that outshine the humble bloodletting in The House on Sorority Row. Chugs’ wine bottle deepthroat in Sorority Row is an all-time slasher elimination, as the glass vessel fills with choked-up blood after the killer slices her throat. Visual effects also accentuate the grim practical artistry, specifically when Claire eats a blistering-hot flare that boils her facial skin like overcooked cheese pizza. Hendler’s cast teeter-totters between despicable and sorrowful (typically back to despicable), and the twist is an outlandish commentary on the hubris of performative nice guys. Yet, Sorority Row most successfully lives up to its 00s slasher bargain of remakes with infinitely outdone death sequences. The House on Sorority Row has fun impaling hilariously fake dummies on much tighter budgetary limits — Sorority Row makes its transgressors agonizingly pay for their actions, excelling in grotesqueries that distract from missing Rosman’s more intricate puzzle.
The Lesson
‘Sorority Row’ (2009)
Sometimes you want to watch Grade-A trash get every fatal stab, blunt force trauma, and punctured artery they deserve. Sorority Row is the remake with no flippin’ mercy that undergoes a total attitude makeover — appreciation will vary in that regard. My column isn’t about which release I prefer, because there’s more to remakes and originals than rankings. The House on Sorority Row and Sorority Row fulfill different cravings of horror cinema and pose quite the contrasting yet complementary double-bill. Two deadly collegiate slasher sprees showcase opposite methods of subgenre expression, from the familial whodunit with ponderous investment to the kill-em-all assault hinged on grosser and more elaborate demises. Both fun, both frantic, neither canceling the other’s existence.
So what did we learn?
● Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger have my trust as writers of multiple successful remakes.
● The remake/original spectrum continues to be best served with decades between and titles entrenched in their historical periods of horror movements.
● Plays smart like My Bloody Valentine (2009) in the way it does not replicate an existing twist but generates its own shock value by unmasking a different killer with new motivations.
● I erased “The House on Sorority Hill” multiple times because it’s all my fingers wanted to type.
Sorority Row feels ahead of its decade in how it subverts slasher expectations like women being helpless fawns and men getting away with sleazy behavior as locker room heroes. I’m not saying it’s a flawless commentary given multiple caricatures like Chugs’ debauchery or Jessica’s Queen Beotch crown, but I wonder how audiences would receive Sorority Row today. It’s an inversion of fraternity horror films — or helpless female horror flicks — that’d possibly be lauded today for its punkish desire to prove girls can be just as demeaning, lewd, and horned-up. Then again, there’s no way something this skin-forward and faithful to T&A 80s midnighters would hit screens today. Whether caught in the remake storm or held as an antidote for the ongoing trauma-latent horror wave, I’m not sure there was ever a favorable window to release Sorority Row — and for that renegade reason alone, I’m glad this delinquent slasher exists.
In Revenge of the Remakes, columnist Matt Donato takes us on a journey through the world of horror remakes. We all complain about Hollywood’s lack of originality whenever studios announce new remakes, reboots, and reimaginings, but the reality? Far more positive examples of refurbished classics and updated legacies exist than you’re willing to remember (or admit). The good, the bad, the unnecessary – Matt’s recounting them all.
After fifty years of continuous writing, Stephen King has become a genre unto himself.
The unrivaled Master of Horror made a splash in 1974 with his debut novel Carrie and has been terrifying readers ever since. Two years later, Brian De Palma brought this shocking story to the screen with an equally electrifying horror film that remains a genre classic and a prototypical example of “Good For Her” horror. This dual debut seemed to open the floodgates, unleashing endless waves of Stephen King films.
From the highs of Misery, Cujo, and The Shawshank Redemption to the schlocky fun of Cat’s Eye, Creepshow, and Children of the Corn, the last five decades have seen just about every notable horror creator take a stab at the author’s massive collection.
In recent years, this singular subgenre has begun to burst at the seams, expanding to include Stephen King-esque fare. In 2016, brothers Matt and Ross Duffer debuted Stranger Things, a sci-fi series heavily inspired by two of King’s most famous books. The Netflix series remixes Firestarter and It by following a little girl with psychic powers and an intrepid group of kids on bikes who must battle an otherworldly foe and a sinister government agency. With its clever blend of modern effects and comforting nostalgia, this gateway horror series paved the way for Andy Muschietti’s It adaptation which remains the highest grossing horror film of all time.
Four years later, Mike Flanagan would create Midnight Mass, a spiritual adaptation of King’s second novel Salem’s Lot. Published in 1975, the book sees a tiny New England town torn apart by a centuries-old vampire. Though Flanagan’s story is perhaps more tender, both iterations of the classic horror tale follow close-knit communities shaken to their core by the presence of an ancient evil.
In addition to these recent hits, 2025 was a banner year for the Master of Horror. Audiences delighted in six mainstream adaptations, including the massively popular It: Welcome to Derry which chronicles earlier cycles of the titular clown’s reign. With this boost to King’s cultural cache, it’s no surprise that we’ve begun to see more unofficial adaptations of the author’s work and horror creators who build their own unique castles in King’s creative sandbox.
So what defines a Stephen King-esque story?
For the past fifty years, the prolific author has dipped his toes in nearly every subgenre from supernatural stories and grisly gore to western fantasy and science fiction. Including his vast catalogue of short fiction, King has tackled ghosts, demons, werewolves, zombies, aliens, mutants, and self-driving cars, not to mention bizarre monsters of his own creation. But what truly unites this vast array of horror is King’s focus on relatable characters. In his 2000 memoir/instructional text On Writing, the prolific author describes the amusement he finds in writing disparate characters, placing them in horrific scenarios, then exploring the ways they try to survive.
An unofficial Stephen King adaptation may take place in the author’s native New England — bonus points if it’s set in Maine — and reference his well-known heroes and villains. But what makes the King connection unbreakable is a character-driven story about average people who band together in the face of abject terror.
Weapons Captures Small Town Stephen King
Following his 2022 shocker Barbarian, Zach Cregger returned with Weapons, a sprawling story that begins in a doomed elementary school. On an otherwise ordinary day, Justine (Julia Garner) arrives at her desk to find that all but one of her students have disappeared. As the mystery grows increasingly violent, Justine and Archer (Josh Brolin), the father of a missing boy, find their way to the home of Alex (Cary Christopher), the class’ only surviving student. In some ways reminiscent of Salem’s Lot, Weapons swings wildly through the unfortunate town, introducing us to its flawed inhabitants as we watch their lives fall apart.
Cregger’s setup nods to a pair of King short stories. Both “Suffer the Little Children” and “Here There Be Tygers” tackle monstrous presences in elementary schools, but as Weapons reaches its final act, Constant Readers may remember another Stephen King tale. Featured in his 1985 collection Skeleton Crew, “Gramma” introduces us to George, a little boy tormented by an aging witch. On an afternoon alone with his sickly grandmother, the frightened child gradually realizes that the imposing old woman has been waiting for an opportunity to cast a spell that will extend her own life by possessing his body.
Alex finds himself similarly tortured by his aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan), a garish witch who orchestrates a desperate plot to sustain her own strength. Transforming humans into mindless weapons, Gladys has taken over Alex’s family home and lured his classmates to the basement. Holding them in a comatose state, she syphons off their energy to extend her own supernatural life.
Vastly different in many ways, both “Gramma” and Weapons hinge on a sinister witch who uses horrific magical spells to sacrifice the bodies of her vulnerable prey.
Hokum Echoes The Shining and 1408
It’s nearly impossible to watch a film about a haunted hotel without thinking of King’s third novel, The Shining. This icy story follows Jack Torrance, an angry writer struggling with his sobriety and a shameful incident haunting his past. Accompanied by his wife and young son, Jack has taken a job as the winter caretaker for the Overlook, a haunted hotel situated high in the Rocky Mountains. Snowed in, Jack finds himself tormented by dangerous ghosts who amplify his greatest fears.
Damian McCarthy’s Hokum follows a similarly troubled figure. Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is a surly writer who travels to the Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland to spread his parents’ ashes. Haunted by his own tragic past, Ohm finds himself trapped in the honeymoon suite, a decaying room that’s been permanently closed to protect visitors from a dangerous witch trapped within its walls. Visual nods to King’s text abound with woodcut figurines and an animated clock, mirroring ominous descriptions found in King’s text.
Another terrifying sequence sees Ohm staring with horror at a closed door, the only thing separating him from the approaching witch. As the door knob slowly turns, Constant Readers remember Jack’s narrow escape from the ghostly woman in room 217. And Ohm’s popular Conquistador books directly reference King’s long-running fantasy series The Dark Tower which follows a gunslinger named Roland Deschain tasked with protecting the nexus of the universe.
In addition to these thematic comparisons, Hokum bears striking resemblance to King’s terrifying short story “1408.” Collected in 2002’s Everything’s Eventual, the terrifying story follows Mike Enslin, a dejected writer who’s risen to fame penning essays about his adventures in haunted locations. Mike arrives at the Hotel Dolphin and bullies his way into the titular room, despite the manager’s dire warnings. McCarthy nods to this story with an ominously misplaced hotel room door, reminiscent of King’s entry to 1408, an unsuspecting portal that appears to move each time Mike looks away.
However, McCarthy’s most direct reference lies in a minicorder Ohm uses to capture notes. Trapped inside the dreaded honeymoon suite, this device offers well-timed messages while sitting next to a decomposing corpse. Mike records his time in 1408 with his own trusty minicorder. Described for the reader, his tape has captured the man’s slow descent into madness as the room prepares to swallow him whole. With conclusions that differ wildly in tone, both Ohm and Mike find their lives irrevocably changed by encounters with the supernatural realm.
Widow’s Bay Builds Its Own Version of Castle Rock
Katie Dippold’s Widow’s Bay has taken the idea of an unofficial King adaptation and turned it into an art form. The Apple TV series sees the residents of the titular island plagued by a curse that dates back centuries. Not only does the picturesque hamlet not accommodate wifi connections, those born on the island face certain death should they ever try to leave. Desperate to modernize the tiny town, Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) draws in waves of tourists just as a new cycle of terror begins.
Blending horror with deft comedy, Dippold makes cheeky references to King’s body of work. Tom warns that, “there’s something in the fog,” reminding readers of King’s 1980 novella The Mist. And Loftis’ own stay in the town’s haunted hotel sees him tormented by the ghost of a murderous clown. We even spy a vintage King hardback peeking out of a local book trade box.
In many ways Widow’s Bay feels like a new iteration of the author’s Little Tall Island, a tiny village off the coast of Maine. In addition to the 1992 novel Dolores Claiborne and a handful of harrowing short stories, this quaint fishing village is also the setting for King’s 1999 teleplay Storm of the Century. Premiering on ABC primetime, this tragic tale follows a terrified group of islanders who batten down the hatches for a dangerous Nor’easter only to find a more sinister threat lurking within.
Constant Readers may also be reminded of Castle Rock, the author’s favorite fictional town.
First introduced in the 1981 novel Cujo, the charming village becomes the star of Needful Things, King’s satire about consumerism. After several Castle Rock stories, we’re reintroduced to its residents as they gossip about the arrival of Leland Gaunt and the grand opening of his curio shop. Anything their hearts desire can be found in his varied inventory, so long as they’re willing to pay the price. Pitting cantankerous neighbors against each other, Gaunt ignites a wave of grisly violence by exploiting long-held resentments and feuds.
The town’s only defense against this supernatural threat is beleaguered sheriff Alan Pangborn. Still grieving the deaths of his wife and younger son, Alan struggles to connect with his older child and pick up the pieces of his shattered life. Also a widower, Loftis struggles to raise his own restless son and explain the strange details of his wife’s tragic death. Attempting to unravel the island’s dark secrets, Tom is aided by quirky residents including a surly fisherman named Wyck (Stephen Root) and Patricia (Kate O’Flynn), an earnest Town Hall employee. King’s own novels feature many of these proactive alliances with disparate characters combining their strengths to overcome insurmountable odds.
With Widow’s Bay renewed for a second season and Mike Flanagan’s Carrie series on the horizon, the future seems bright for new King adaptations, both spiritual and directly pulled from his catalogue. The prolific author also shows no signs of slowing down with two publications nearing release. His upcoming novel, Other Worlds Than These, is the long-awaited third Talisman book which teases direct ties to his Dark Tower world. Holly Forever will be a new installment of his crime series, offering a different kind of genre fare.
This embarrassment of riches spawning multiple worlds seems ripe for spiritual adaptation and will likely inspire horror creators for decades to come.
Kate O’Flynn, Stephen Root and Matthew Rhys in “Widow’s Bay,” now streaming on Apple TV.
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