For a struggling punk band scraping by on gas money and ramen, a last-minute gig at a remote backwoods venue seems like a lucky break. But when The Ain’t Rights arrive at a desolate bar deep in the Oregon woods, the grim atmosphere and tattooed crowd raise uneasy questions. They should’ve walked away. Instead, they take the stage—and after a defiant cover of “Nazi Punks F*** Off,” they witness something they were never meant to see: a brutal murder backstage. Trapped in the green room with a corpse, a terrified witness, and their gear, the band suddenly becomes prey.
Outside the door waits Darcy, the venue’s cold, calculating owner. But he’s not just running a bar—he’s running a militant neo-Nazi operation, and he can’t afford loose ends. Calmly and methodically, Darcy begins to spin a web of lies, sending in foot soldiers with blades and dogs to “clean up” the situation. What follows is a siege drenched in sweat, blood, and fear. Armed with a fire extinguisher, a box cutter, and raw instinct, the band must fight for survival as every exit is sealed and every ally falls one by one.
What makes Green Room terrifying isn’t just the violence—it’s the realism. There are no superhuman heroes or Hollywood escapes, only raw, improvised survival. Pat, the band’s bassist, emerges as an unlikely leader, forced to evolve from quiet bystander to desperate tactician. Alongside Amber, a fierce and traumatized local who’s just as trapped as they are, he must navigate the dim hallways and crawlspaces of the building, avoiding traps, ambushes, and the weight of hopelessness. Each decision carries deadly consequences. Every moment feels like borrowed time.
In its final act, Green Room becomes a stripped-down war of attrition—principle versus primal instinct, noise versus silence, chaos versus order. When the tables finally turn, and the hunted become the hunters, Pat and Amber face Darcy not with vengeance, but with necessity. They don’t need to be heroic. They just need to survive. And as the sun rises over the bloodied ruins of the venue, Green Room leaves its audience breathless, disturbed, and unforgettably shaken. It's a punk rock nightmare turned survival horror—a brutal, brilliantly crafted battle between youth, music, and merciless hate.
