Green Room is sure to go down as the most overwhelmingly intense movie of 2016, and unless another filmmaker can match Jeremy Saulnier’s knack for suspense, violence, and pulling the rawest performances out of his actors possible, it’ll reign as genre-movie king for a good long while.

Starring Anton Yelchin, Imogen Poots, Alia Shawkat, Blue Ruin‘s Macon Blair, and Patrick Stewart, the film finds a hardcore band trapped in the green room of a secluded punk rock venue in the forested Northwest, surrounded and outnumbered by murderous neo-nazi thugs led by a cunning leader (Stewart). Over the course of one night, blood and limbs fly, bones break, flesh gets ripped to shreds, and egoes get smashed to pieces as we bear witness to the ensuing melee.

In a roundtable interview, we spoke to Saulnier and Yelchin in San Francisco about the movie, which is in theaters now.

Murder Party was also primarily shot in one location. That was shot about a decade ago. I’m curious how you’ve approached Green Room differently and how you’ve applied the things you’ve learned over the past ten years.
Jeremy: After Murder Party, which is an overnight, sort of contained scenario, I swore I’d never do it again. So…I’m an idiot. I learned a lot about what’s supposedly cheapest and most convenient, which is shooting a film in one location so that you have control over it. But, cinematically, I found it lacking. I was using a great steadycam operator and kind of set him loose, but I didn’t feel like it was fully realized, visually and cinematically.

For Blue Ruin, I did the opposite: tons of locations, open air, eight-page scenes. That was what I was attracted to. Green Room was just an idea I loved but was resisting because of the nature of what it contained. The siege scenario. But I felt like, because of the dynamics of it taking place in the green room of a concert venue during a live show, it was just something I couldn’t let go of.

Visually, I had an exterior element that was kind of swirling and always moving, very visually rich and kinetic. Inside, I had had to work on how to cover these scenes without exhausting the actors. I didn’t quite figure that out because you had to get these performances and you couldn’t be so kinetic. Green Room is much more visually precise and better realized. I wasn’t afraid. When we had to lock a camera and just shoot what the actor was saying, the impact of the performance is what’s really driving the story, not so much how I use the camera. We let the actors lead the way.

You’ve been DP on all of your films until now. What was it like passing on the torch and focusing on directing?
Jeremy: Based on the necessity of this production, it was easy and kind of inevitable. For Blue Ruin, it’s a kind of quiet film. There are about three major dialogue scenes, and the rest is primarily wordless. Every shot was the story. My intuitive approach to how I was moving the camera and how I was framing the camera is how I told the story. I couldn’t do it any other way.

Green Room, with the ensemble cast, the stunts, the bloodwork, the special effects…it was way more of a challenge than Blue Ruin. I wasn’t going to try to shoot this. Sean Porter was brought on because he has a diversity of styles. He isn’t trying to put his imprint on a director’s film. He tries to translate what they’re going for. I saw It Felt Like Love and Kumiko: The Treasure Hunter, which are very different films, and I would never peg them as being shot by the same person. For that reason, I knew that he could translate the visuals as I would have.

I love following your career, Anton. Your role choices are interesting to me. I don’t know you, but from everything I’ve heard, you’re an incredibly intelligent person.
Anton: That’s debatable…[laughs]

I think you exude a keen intellect when you’re onscreen. Do you choose roles that allow you to display that?
Anton: The thought just crossed my mind that I should find someone really stupid to play. [laughs] I think at this point I want to be doing different kinds of characters and changing physicality…It’s hard, because movies don’t really come out in order. Sometimes they never come out. So work that [I] do that in my mind I’m plotting my…not so much career trajectory, but my creative trajectory…a lot of times, people don’t get to see that. Something that I may have done three years ago may come out tomorrow, and three years ago I was on that creative page, but I’m not anymore! You get judged by that moment. For me, at this point, I’m trying to figure out what I can do creatively. It’s about trying to find new things and trying to figure out voices and borrowing from things and learning as much as possible so that I have an archive of things to borrow from.

Jeremy: I can attest to the fact that he is an overthinker. He gave me a huge phone book of notes about his character, not to change the script, but just his insights and how he would steer the character, emotionally. That I loved. Anton has a very good idea of what he wants to do, and he wants to talk about it a lot. Sometimes I want to, you know…

Anton: Not talk about it. [laughs]

Jeremy: This film is so physical. The dialogue, if you look at it line by line…it’s like, what are we saying here? It’s all kind of throwaway. But when you see the character, he’s not very proactive. He’s forced to live or die. He’s not trying to be a cinematic movie hero. He’s forced into that role and has to go kind of full-gonzo to get there. It’s really fun to see it come alive on camera.

Anton, are you the kind of actor who needs to be riled up before a tense scene? This film is obviously full of them.
Anton: It’s just focus. I know Jeremy’s really busy, but I send him all of that stuff. It’s a selfish thing. I need what I’m thinking to come out into the world, even if it’s a two-word approval, like, “Yeah, I agree,” I need that approval so that in the morning I can get up and use that when I go to work. It’s a weird version of focusing. That being said, it’s not just me focusing. I was thinking a lot about Callum and [Imogen] and Alia and Joe, watching those guys. Patrick Stewart on the other side of the door. When you’re part of a cast like this, you’re fortunate enough to have people who are constantly informing what you’re doing.

It’s very touching for me to see Callum’s face when I get hurt [in the movie]. The empathy and kindness he was exuding in that moment aided me so much. I love that guy, weirdly. We’ve never had an experience like that in real life, you know what I mean? He’s a great guy, and we’re friends. But there was something about that…you share really intimate things with people [on movies] that you just wouldn’t, even if you’ve been friends with them for years. You don’t share the things you’re forced to share [on a movie set].

The big thing I was scared of was that [the cast] would get together as a band and dislike each other.

Jeremy: That wouldn’t have happened. That’s how I cast movies.

Anton: Well, I was still scared, but those guys are good dudes. They’re good people.

Jeremy: The environment we create is, every actor on set wants to be there. They were invested. When you have that chemistry, that mutual support…it becomes real. Everyone feeds off of each other. When you’re in the room, you’re at the mercy of every single performance. You cannot have one that’s off. That real-life energy, that charge, was palpable in every take.

What’s the message of the picture?
Jeremy: There are lots of layers there. There’s subtle political commentary in there. There’s a thesis to the movie, and that’s more about stripping down ideology and affiliation and who we think we are in labels. It’s about a learned aggression and violence…all sorts of shit. But really, it’s entertainment. It’s about good, old-fashioned escapist filmmaking. Drawing from my favorite experiences with Blue Ruin, which were derived from watching audiences respond to intention…that was so fucking exhilarating for me.

With Green Room, what I wanted to do was infuse an archive, my experience in the punk rock and hardcore scene. I wanted to have something to show for it. I wanted to make a genre film but infuse it with the energy of the hardcore punk scene, which I really loved and also defined my youth.

What are some new things the movie brings to the table as far as genre filmmaking?
Jeremy: I really try to not let specific genres influence me. I’m certainly collectively influenced by all of the films I’ve ever seen. I did watch Straw Dogs for a reference. I knew this plot wasn’t going to be very thick. Straw Dogs was about the experience and tension and tone. A very thin plot. This is the point of Green Room. We’re not going for a convoluted plot. Contrived plot twists, injected character conflict or love stories that just don’t belong…it’s this insane, visceral experience. It’s an overnight clusterfuck, and it’s terrifying. It’s designed to be the most tense film I could ever imagine.

I approached it as a war film. That’s what it was. It’s a siege scenario. It has aesthetic elements that could be attributed to the horror genre. Certainly a lot of graphic violence. The way I approached it with the production design and the actors was that it was a very grounded war film, but on the other side of the door, there are amateurs.

We’ve been talking a lot about actors.
Anton: What’s wrong with that? [laughs]

[laughs] Jeremy, is there a technique you have when working with your actors?
Jeremy: [To Anton] What is my technique? No, seriously. Do I have a technique? I don’t perceive myself as having a technique.

Anton: I think, when you watch Jeremy’s movies, there’s a real sensitivity to performance. There are two parts of me. There’s the really critical, film-nerd part of me that loves that, and then there’s the part of me where I’m like, “I really didn’t like that movie, but I want to work with that director because he loves actors.” I think you can see that in Jeremy’s films. I love Macon [Blair]. He’s such a good actor, you know? What a beautiful performance in Blue Ruin. I was geeking out on meeting him. But you see in Blue Ruin that there’s a real sensitivity to people’s performances, and that’s what it’s like on set.

I know that Jeremy was going through a lot of stuff that we had no idea about, actually. And I’d say, in a microcosm, that is your approach. We had no idea what Jeremy was dealing with outside of just trying to man this ship on the day, and it was really about being sensitive to what we were doing and trying to get the right moments. It’s a real love for performance that, as an actor, you appreciate. It’s giving you a chance to make stuff, and I think that is a way of working with actors. That is an approach. I’m sure there are directors who don’t like to work with actors and don’t know how to be sensitive to actors. The groundedness in these films comes from his sensitivity.

One of the most buzzed about films during the festival circuit last year was Jeremy Saulnier’s Green Room (we saw it first at Cannes, then TIFF, and now Sundance, its last major festival before a limited release in April). Following up his successful indie thriller Blue Ruin, Saulnier doubles down on just about every aspect: more thrills, more kills, more discomfort, and perhaps most impressive, more narrative. Green Room is a fierce, white-knuckle blood fest that doesn’t stop for air once it gets going.

A struggling punk band appropriately named The Ain’t Rights tour around to any local scene willing to listen, but they haven’t had much luck. Just as they’re about to throw in the towel and head back home, they catch wind of a promising gig, but it comes with a small caveat—the isolated venue is home to a bunch of skinheads. While backstage, the band accidentally witnesses a murder, and from there things spiral out of control. The owner of the venue (a methodical Patrick Stewart) contains the band members in a room while he devises a plan to eliminate them as witnesses, but the band doesn’t give up easy. They come up with their own strategy to make it out alive, and that’s when Green Room transitions from being a thriller to a horror film. The film unfolds like a bloody chess match between both sides, each using any available trick and traps to their advantage.

Green Room is a vivid nightmare that’s impossible to get out of your head. More than just a gruesome blood bath, the film is surprisingly witty and expertly crafted. Saulnier keeps you in suspense until the very end.

Rating:
8/10

With Green Room, Jeremy Saulnier has perfected the intensity he showed in brief glimpses with his previous film Blue Ruin. Whereas Ruin played out through a more slow-paced approach and focused on the vicious cycle of a long-lasting blood feud, Green Room goes full genre, putting characters in a situation that’s seemingly impossible to get out of while gleefully letting everything to go hell in a handbasket. It’s a thriller that knows exactly what it’s doing, raising the stakes to an unbearable level while subverting expectations associated with the genre. In terms of pure, raw intensity and entertainment, Green Room is fantastic, and confirms Saulnier as a filmmaker to be reckoned with.

As these sorts of stories go, things start off with a calm before the storm. Punk band The Ain’t Rights are touring with no money and apparently no gigs either; they can barely afford food and siphon gas in order to keep traveling to their next destination. After driving out of their way to perform for some guaranteed cash they learn that the show’s been cancelled, but they’re offered an alternate gig; performing at a neo-nazi bar in what looks like the middle of the woods. They accept, and despite a rocky performance, things go well. It isn’t until they’re about to leave that things go south, when band member Sam (Alia Shawkat) forgets her phone in the eponymous green room. When bandmate Pat (Anton Yelchin) goes back to grab it for her, he walks in to find the headline act standing over the dead body of a young girl. With Pat being witness to a crime, the neo-Nazi bar staff lock the band in the room while bar owner Darcy (Patrick Stewart) and his right-hand man Gabe (Macon Blair) figure out how to handle the situation.

Right away, Saulnier establishes that playing by his own rules. The band, who turn Pat into a de facto leader as they try to negotiate an escape with Darcy through the room’s locked door, aren’t stupid. They know what will happen to them, and the more time they spend waiting the more time their captors can strategize a way to take them out. This is where the film’s earlier section pays off, since Saulnier’s ability to write realistic characters makes it easy to relate to the band’s desperate, yet smart, attempts to get out alive. Saulnier realizes the importance of realism, and that making viewers relate to the characters only ups the anxiety to a nauseating degree.

And once the situation goes haywire, Saulnier doesn’t hesitate to get brutal (and boy, does it get brutal). Machetes, box cutters, rabid dogs, and plenty more get used in the various showdowns, and when people die they go out screaming. Saulnier’s decision to cast character actors like Yelchin and Shawkat in the band puts his protagonists on a level playing field, making it impossible to guess who might make it out alive by the end. One by one, Saulnier removes the safe havens of conventions from viewers, meaning every moment plays out with an unpredictability that the film thrives on.

That’s largely because Saulnier doubles down on the best aspect of Blue Ruin; the ability to let his characters make mistakes. While Pat and his bandmates try their best to outsmart their rivals, Saulnier constantly reminds viewers that these are people desperately trying to feel their way through a situation they have no earthly idea how to grasp. Clever attempts to trick Darcy’s foot soldiers play out in ways they couldn’t expect, and even if they do pay off it might come at the cost of someone’s life. Much like The Raid: Redemption, Green Room is a survival thriller that understands the importance of constantly establishing the stakes, raising them higher, and letting people enjoy watching characters try to get out of the increasingly small corner they’ve put themselves in. It’s like watching a spectacularly bloody fireworks show, but with the knowledge that one of those explosives could come flying in your direction at any time.

Director Jeremy Saulnier‘s second feature Blue Ruin, a stripped down revenge thriller, took the indie world by storm last year on its way to a nomination for the John Cassavetes Award at the 2015 Indie Spirit Awards. Wasting little time in assembling a follow-up, Saulnier is now in Cannes to debut his next color-related movie Green Room. Featuring a larger and more well-known cast than his previous film, including Patrick Stewart, Anton Yelchin and Imogen Poots, Green Room held its Cannes Film Festival premiere over the weekend to a largely positive reception.

Green Room follows a group of punk rockers called The Ain’t Rights, who take an ill-advised gig in the backwoods of Oregon, only to stumble onto violent crime and in the middle of a confrontation with the local, violent, white-supremacist gang. Patrick Stewart plays the leader of the gang. Green Room also stars Alia Shawkat, Joe Cole, Callum Turner, Mark Webber, as well as Blue Ruin star Macon Blair.

Watch the first clip of Green Room below, in which an intimidating Eric Edelstein explains the difference between a bullet and a cartridge:

The New York Times runs a regular series of essays called “Modern Love” in which contributors explore every nook and cranny of the wonderful world of love and lust. In a recent essay, author Mandy Len Catron introduces the idea of a test that supposedly creates intimacy, even between strangers, if you ask a certain series of questions to a partner. The rest of the essay captures the dialogue of her and her partner giving the test a whirl—and you guessed it, it works.

Match, a movie by director/playwright Stephen Belber (adapted from his own play), seems to grapple with a similar premise: What situations–indeed what conversations–are the ones that can make complete strangers feel immediately close? What, if anything, is the trigger in our interpersonal lives that allows us to put our guard down and really let someone see us?

The strangers in this case are really a group of three: Tobi (Patrick Stewart), an older man who has clearly lived but now goes for the straight-and-narrow life of teaching dance at Juliard. And Lisa (Carla Gugino) and Mike (Matthew Lillard), a couple in their 30’s, old enough to make statements like “I was supposed to be more than this,” but young enough that their willingness to settle—both professionally and personally—is still just a bit tragic.

The three first meet at a diner in a more reclusive part of NYC—Tobi’s choice apparently—and Lisa quickly introduces herself as a grad student working on a dissertation about the history of choreography. She’s there to pick Tobi’s well-traveled, ex-dancer brain. Stewart gracefully captures all the eccentricities of an artistic genius—a certain social awkwardness that manifests itself in any person who separates himself from meaningful relationships for too long balanced with a passion and excitement any time the conversation focuses exclusively on dance, which incidentally isn’t as often as you’d think (a point that eventually becomes a source of conflict).

Stewart’s ability to capture the anxiety of the situation—meeting someone new, already being a bit socially awkward, and then being asked to share intimate details of one’s life on tape—is paramount to the film’s success. There are a couple of surprises along the way—you may have guessed it, the couple is there under false pretenses—but this isn’t really a film about plot, it’s a film about human emotion. Certainly, the script’s choice to reveal each character’s secrets to the audience in conjunction with the characters’ confessions to each other helps the tension. We only know what they know. And so, far after we’d expect, the dialogue continues to be uneasy. When Tobi blurts out, “God, I used to love to perform cunnilingus” an hour in, you’re still not sure whether Lisa made a grave mistake sticking around. Are we really going there? But it’s this shared uncertainty between the audience and the characters that makes their decisions to slowly open up to each other more rewarding. This creates a feeling of investment in the risks they’re taking by opening up.

Of course, it must be said that the film’s best moments fall squarely at the film’s center—when the character of Mike is momentarily removed and Tobi and Lisa are left alone to discuss their life’s mistakes and non-mistakes. It’s almost as if the character of Mike only exists insomuch as it helps to illuminate some of the gray areas in the choices Tobi reveals. “I love my life. I regret my life. The lines eventually blur, and it’s just my life,” Tobi says at one point, nailing down the film’s conceptual heart.

But Mike. He’s an archetype: angry dude that needs to show off his masculinity. In a film about tension, it’s obvious that not explaining his anger earlier is all about creating curiosity and suspense, but it’s done in such a heavy-handed way that every line he delivers just serves as a distraction.

It’s when Tobi and Lisa are alone that the film truly hits its stride—and dance it does. When everything does play out, though, what’s left is a script that relies on a pretty overdone plot. But thanks to capable acting, it turns out just a conduit for the film’s real mission–capturing moments. The moment one learns to trust. The moment one learns to let go. The moment one tries once more.