In The Line, there is no place more terrifying than a frat house.

Director Ethan Berger portrays these supposed havens of brotherhood as dens of racism, sexism, and homophobia. Between snorting lines of cocaine off bikini pictures and forcing freshmen to shave their genitals, The Line's fraternity brothers complain that prospective pledges are "too dark" or kick up fights by calling each other gay. It would all seem over-the-top, if it weren't so rooted in reality.

That realism is where the true horror of The Line lies. While the film focuses on the fictional Kappa Nu Alpha fraternity — or "KNA," as its members chant mindlessly throughout — you can easily imagine its hazing rituals appearing in the news. With this in mind, Berger and his committed young cast have crafted a searing deep dive into one of the most disturbing elements of American university culture.

The Line explores the nightmarish depths of fraternities.

The Line makes no attempts to glorify the frat bro lifestyle. There are no wild parties attended by everyone in the school, no crazy sex scenes, no moments where you'd think, "Man, this is how I wish I'd spent my formative college years."

Instead, Berger and cinematographer Stefan Weinberger turn KNA's frat house into a dingy, lonely space. You can almost feel floors sticky underfoot with alcohol and smell the brothers' BO as they brag about all the sex they're having, or how they "set the tone" for Sumpter College and the rest of the world. As the brothers are keen to point out, three of their members went on to become president, while others run major companies (and give other brothers jobs there). Yet despite all this important history, there's no sense of connection with the rest of the campus, aside from a mixer with a sorority whose members we never meet. One pledge's roommate doesn't even bother to talk to him. For all their crotch-grabbing, air-humping bravado, the KNA boys come across as pathetic young men. But they're pathetic young men who think they're on top of the world — and based on their privilege and connections, one day they probably will be.

That realization is one of the most menacing aspects of The Line, along with a threatening undercurrent Berger weaves throughout. We first get a sense of this threat in the film's opening, a destabilizing sequence where pledges in camo facepaint celebrate after a heinous round of hazing. (The hazing ritual isn't shown in full, but the implied task is a horrifying one.) Cut to Tom Backster (Alex Wolff), a sophomore KNA brother from Florida. He's spent his summer working in a restaurant instead of interning at a prestigious company like the rest of his more well-connected brothers. However, he lies to his friends about his real summer job, hoping not to risk humiliation at their hands. Another lie is the exaggerated Southern accent he puts on to mimic the rest of KNA, a front his mother (Cheri Oteri) likens to "fake Forrest Gump." (She also thinks he sounds brainwashed.) With these character details, The Line lets us know right from the get-go that there's nothing worse for a KNA brother to do than to break the norm.

But break the norm is exactly what one member of the freshman pledge class does. Gettys O'Brien (Austin Abrams) skips pledge events and shows reluctance to adhere to traditions. He pushes back on the older brothers, especially Tom's roommate, Mitch Miller (Bo Mitchell). Between his actions and the new dean of students' (Austin Purnell) promise to crack down on frats' code of conduct violations, it's not long before tensions within KNA lead to disaster. The major turning point of The Line likely won't come as a shock if you're familiar with all the ways fraternity hazing can go wrong, but that doesn't make it any less nauseating when it happens.

The Line's cast brings the brothers of KNA to all-too realistic life.

The Line is a tense horror show throughout thanks to its realistic quality, a tribute to both its handling of its subject matter and its ensemble cast. Wolff and the rest of the KNA boys are frighteningly believable as frat bros, although Wolff brings an extra layer of vulnerability as a KNA outsider who's worked hard to get into this brotherhood and establish a certain image for himself.

As Gettys, Abrams is a slippery enigma who oscillates between "thinks he's too cool for frat tradition" and "desperately wants to be in a frat." His frustration at KNA's dumb demands doesn't stop him from participating, speaking to the sacrifices people will go through to be part of a seemingly high-status group. Facing off against Gettys is Mitchell's Mitch, whose rich father got him into the frat even though everyone there hates his guts. It's a potent combination that leads to volatile, at times even sadistic, outbursts that Mitchell delivers in chilling fashion.

The Line also features Halle Bailey, fresh off her leading turn in The Little Mermaid, as Annabelle Bascom, a sharp student who catches Tom's eye. Bailey does excellent work with the material that she's given, which is disappointingly thin for the star. There's not much to Annabelle beyond her initial aversion to Tom's frat bro status, making her less of a fully-fledged character and more of a figure for Tom to project his misgivings about KNA onto.

The Line is best when it focuses solely on KNA's inner workings, and for the most part, that's where Berger keeps his focus. Charged conversations between the brothers reveal their gross attitudes and their disdain for consequences. Meanwhile, haunting images such as hooded pledges awaiting hazing will make you crave any kind of consequence that much harder. Staying true to real life, The Line doesn't necessarily give you the outcome you might want based on the KNA brothers' actions. But that just makes it an even more compelling indictment of an antiquated tradition, one that unfortunately remains relevant due to its members' privilege.

The Line was reviewed out of its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival. It is currently seeking distribution.