Alexander Fehling and Arian Montgomery in Three Peaks (Greenwich Entertainment)

 Three Peaks, with nary a hint of violence, manages to be the most nerve-racking, menacing film of the year. The setup is simple. Lea (Bérénice Bejo), her boyfriend of two years, Aaron (Alexander Fehling), and Lea’s young son, Tristan (Arian Montgomery), take a vacation high up in the Italian Dolomite mountain range. Aaron works overtime to win the boy’s affections, while Tristan is begging his mom to love his dad again. Lea, for her part, wants to start a family with Aaron, yet she does not want her son confused and therefore doesn’t consider Aaron as a stepfather or even a father figure to Tristan.

With all this in mind, director/writer Jan Zabeil drops them in the middle of Aaron’s small cabin in the mountains. We feel distinctly uncomfortable as we catch unnervingly intimate moments between the three—be it Tristan crying with his head under Lea’s shirt as she tries to convince him that having a brother or sister might be a good thing, or Aaron confessing to Lea how much he loves her son but also how he sometimes cannot stand the sight of him. There’s a tension between the fear of the love that these characters obviously feel for each other, which translates as ambivalence, and the expression of love when the fear recedes.

The way that Zabeil frames his actors intensifies this contradiction. He hardly ever moves past a medium shot, so more often than not, the characters fill the screen. Even when he expands the frame, there’s constant tension. When Aaron and Tristan sit on a mountain ledge, chatting and their legs swinging freely, we have no idea if the drop off is two feet, 20, or 200.

As emotions fray, and they fray slowly and quietly, the tension rises. Three Peaks is reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman in its merciless, painful dissection of human relationships and frailties. Tristan is a confused kid who is fascinated with the differences between Aaron and his father, and who also doesn’t understand the larger dynamics at play. Aaron’s alternately in love with Tristan but considers him an interloper. Lea is so infatuated with Aaron’s manliness that she waits until he’s asleep so she can snuggle up to him; his scent allows her to relax, yet she tells Aaron that her son “just has one dad, and he’s a good dad,” implying that Aaron is something else. Both Aaron and Tristan pick up on this hesitancy to truly embrace Aaron as family, and that results in tension between them.

Zabeil’s script is an exercise in restraint and clarity, providing just enough information. Every shot, every word, informs the story and builds upon the previous action, including a third act that manages to heighten the tension even more and move the story into a survivalist tale. Even then, nothing is overplayed or overwrought. Zabeil know exactly what he wants you to feel, exactly how uncomfortable he wants you to be, and proceeds with measured surety.