In many ways, The Line is quite the fitting title.

In one interpretation, it refers to the line of lineage and tradition present within fraternity culture that gets passed down. Father to son. A lifetime of insurmountable wealth and security. In other meaning, it’s about the strictly enforced rules of conduct that the “brothers” have to follow. Life or death. No questions asked—no one out of line. In Director Ethan Berger’s unsettling and ever-relevant feature directorial debut, it’s about the mental gymnastics one student takes before deciding when his fraternity brothers have gone too far.

KNA: the three letters that stand for Sumpter College’s biggest open secret on campus. Whether it’s because of the presidents or Fortune 500 CEOs that have passed through its delicate walls filled with age-old paintings, Tom (Alex Wolff) — like many of his male peers – finds himself drawn to the promise of lifelong connections and carefree college existence. The rules of society around him seemed to die the instant he pledged. But as he falls for classmate Annabelle (Halle Bailey) and grows to not stand his seemingly out-of-line roommate Mitch (Bo Mitchell), Tom slowly begins to question his blind loyalty to tradition.

The image that The Line presents of a group of asshole frat bros wearing puffed-up polo vests, getting drunk day in and day out, isn’t exactly new or revelatory. We’ve seen it all before in raunchy comedies and heard about the horrifying hazing and the retreats on the news. So you may ask yourself why we even need this film if we can expect how it’s going to play out.

Thankfully, through Berger’s deep interrogation into what draws these fragile men to fraternities and examining the abusive culture hiding in plain sight, The Line manages to be an engaging and thoughtful indictment of toxic masculinity. Berger places us right in the midst of unsettling moments in their lives, allowing their hateful and degrading conversations to speak all for themselves. Stefan Weinberger’s cinematography is simple but genuinely effective in making the viewer feel trapped within the fraternity house and life, bringing Berger’s confining atmosphere to fruition.

As the audience’s main eyes into this world, Wolff gives a committed performance as Tom’s initial excitement and full devotion to KNA slowly dies out throughout the course of the film. One thing that immediately sets this performance apart from Wolff’s previous work — in addition to his method acting — is that his character himself is putting on a performance of sorts. He speaks in a deadpan, low voice to fit in with the men he surrounds himself with. It’s his “faux Forrest Gump accent,” as Tom’s mom describes to him. In many crucial scenes, especially as the film builds to its harrowing and unforgettable climax, Wolff portrays the growing guilt Tom feels through body language and eye contact alone.

The bond that forms between Tom and Annabelle represents one of the film’s major turning points. Tom begins to realize what kind of life he can lead outside of his fraternity, perhaps even start taking his schoolwork somewhat seriously. While Bailey brings remarkable strength and charm to her role, it’s unfortunate that Annabelle feels underwritten and cast aside to service Tom’s character development. Alex Russek, Berger, and Zack Purdo’s otherwise excellent script never fully convinces us why the two characters decide to spend any time with each other. There was clear missed potential in this subplot to give Annabelle more depth and dig even deeper into what Tom really wants in life. Many of their scenes together feel severely cut short and definitely could’ve been expanded upon.

Thankfully, the writing picks up again as the ending comes full circle. While properly giving Tom a satisfying end to his arc, these final moments also remind us of the perpetuating cycle that still continues beyond this specific story. Maybe there’s hope that other men can begin to see where the line should be drawn in their actions. That they can get out before it consumes their morality — and character — for good. But as The Line posits, giving them the benefit of the doubt to truly change may only leave us feeling more hopeless in the end.

Review Courtesy of Matt Minton

Feature Image via 1993 and Big Cat Productions