Within five minutes, I suspected the movie was a stinker; within 15 minutes, my suspicions were confirmed. Yet I stayed until the end of Sorority Row, a horrid pustule on the hind quarters of horror, filled with self-described bitches, sluts, and hos, and not enough Carrie Fisher with a shotgun. "Admit it, these are horrible people," one character says, describing the sisters of Theta Pi sorority who are the ostensible stars of the movie. And why would you want to hang out with horrible people for any more time than is absolutely necessary? So why didn't I walk out?
I have, in fact, walked out of movies before: at this year's SXSW, for example, I walked out of my third movie of the day within 15 minutes because I wasn't laughing at the comedy and had two more movies to see later that evening. I wasn't assigned to review it, but it sounded interesting; when it fell flat for me, I cut my losses and got some fresh air. I walked out of a shorts program at Fantastic Fest last year because I grew weary of viewing so much blood and too many disgusting images. And I've stomped out of non-fest flicks due to technical problems (i.e. poor projection and/or sound) and demanded my money back.
Somehow, though, the idea that I'd already been dumb enough to pay $9.50 on a Friday night to see the umpteenth flaccid remake of an 80s horror flick made me dig in my heels.