Jeremy Saulnier/ 2015/ USA/ 95 mins

At cinemas nationwide from Fri 13 May 2016

Jeremy Saulnier is rapidly staking a claim as one of the most accomplished independent filmmakers of recent years.  His breakthrough, Blue Ruin, was a smart, sparse and original take on the careworn revenge thriller, and his follow up, Green Room, is even better.

Like his earlier work, the story is simplicity itself.  When punk band The Ain’t Rights accept a gig in back woods Oregon, they discover they’re booked to play at a neo-Nazi venue.  In true punk fashion, they warm the hostile crowd over with a Dead Kennedy’s cover.  After the gig they accidentally witness a murder and are left trapped in the green room, at the mercy of the skinheads, led by Patrick Stewart.

Green Room is one of the tensest, nerve-shredding experiences you could hope to have at the cinema.  Saulnier establishes a real sense of hopelessness and desperation with devastating economy, and short, sharp shocks of sickening violence.  It has echoes of the best parts of Assault on Precinct 13, From Dusk Till Dawn and The Walking Dead.  Unfortunately for the young band, their fascist nemeses are intelligent, well-organised, and armed to the teeth.  Stewart, on evilly charismatic form, runs his recruits almost like a cult, those who please him welcomed into his inner sanctum with natty red laces to go with their bovver boots.

The young actors comprising The Ain’t Rights acquit themselves well, even if they aren’t all afforded the same level of characterisation.  Anton Yelchin, Joe Cole, and Imogen Poots as a friend of the murdered girl, all give strong performances, although Alia Shawkat is a little wasted in an underwritten role that doesn’t give her much to do beyond look frightened.  This is a minor quibble however, as Green Room really is survival horror at its finest and most intense.

As well as the story, Saulnier brings the same knowledge and love of the DIY hardcore punk scene that Damien Chazelle demonstrated with jazz in Whiplash, even though the plot revolves around the least pleasant elements of the scene.  There is a wonderful moment where Saulnier strips away all sound as the band perform, and the musicians thrash and the crowd windmill and mosh in a slow-motion, brutal ballet that communicates the transcendent joy of getting lost in the music in really evocative fashion.  It’s a brief moment of calm before the storm, but shows Saulnier has an eye for beauty as well as bludgeon.

Thrilling, claustrophobic, and with scant regards for the nerves of its audience; Green Room is terrifying for the plausibility of its horror, the grim authenticity of its violence, and the sparse austerity of its storytelling.  There is not a single wasted frame and, in all honesty, spending any more time in the green room than the film’s lean 95 minutes would be almost unbearable.