Ursula Meier’s assured feature debut, boosted by the expert cinematography of Agnès Godard, boldly investigates the thin line between sanity and madness, the moments when family closeness becomes claustrophobia. Living at the end of an abandoned four-lane highway, Marthe and Michel enjoy a blissful, if highly unconventional, existence with their three children: a daughter, almost an adult, who spends most of her time sunbathing in a skimpy bikini; a teenage daughter obsessed with scientific trivia; and a rambunctious young son who appears to be the only one with connections outside the tight-knit clan. The family spends their happy isolation playing nighttime hockey and splashing around in the tub together. But their cocooned existence ends when the highway is reopened, becoming a major thruway for endless cars and trucks. Cracks in the family’s stability immediately begin to show, erupting into full-blown paranoia when Michel insists that they brick up the house to protect themselves against the toxins and air pollution they are now exposed to. What begins as a study of idiosyncratic domesticity seamlessly shifts into a portrait of psychological horror—and a cautionary tale about environmental disaster.