From left, Léa Drucker, Samuel Kircher, and Olivier Rabourdin in Last Summer (TIFF)

 A tense, gripping story of an ultra-dangerous liaison, Catherine Breillat’s Last Summer makes every scene count and keeps you hooked. There’s beaucoup to admire in this remake of the Danish pitch-black psychological thriller Queen of Hearts. While that 2019 movie derived power from its baleful Nordic noir atmosphere, this version of the story smartly contrasts comfortable and even sexy French bourgeois life with the suddenly gathering darkness that accompanies a forbidden attraction.

Last Summer centers around soignée, confident family lawyer Anne (Léa Drucker). Blonde, slender, and impeccably dressed in becoming flaxen shades, Anne delivers a balance of empathy and tough love to clients, fondly manipulates her stuffy corporate husband, and manages their two adopted daughters with affection in their light-dappled, elegant home. Anne has it all, right? Except some of Anne’s interaction with others reveal glimpses of explosive fires within—hubris and recklessness—qualities that will lead her to an affair with her neglected, immature 17-year-old stepson Théo (Samuel Kircher), who has come to live with his father after a run-in with the law. Lust, secrecy, and mutual emotional blackmail pull this attraction in twisty directions. Anne’s position as an arbiter over other families’ relations adds an even more delectable taste of taboo.

As moony, curly haired Théo becomes attached to Anne, his behavior grows more erratic. Théo’s emotional outpourings scare Anne, but one suspects that his defiance may be another source of attraction for her. Still, Anne has the upper hand in all her relationships, over her husband, her kids, her legal charges, and a manicurist sister marooned in the lower classes. When Théo has a mind of his own and doesn’t do as he’s told, Anne takes a risky shot to put him in his place—probably the wildest gamble she’s ever taken in her life. Her act is shocking and raises the stakes high, but you can’t help but admire the brazen ballsiness of her gambit.

Breillat rations her scenes tightly, letting them pile on consequences and emotions as the narrative builds momentum. Drucker’s controlled, savvy performance as a powerful figure fighting to stay on point keeps matters from heading toward melodrama. Sharp dialogue reveals more than characters sometimes intend. And a seemingly peripheral relationship provides a deception crucial to the plot, sketched out in quick strokes. Last Summer initially glows with French sunshine and a woman’s touch, but closes in with a bite that’s hard to shake off.