Laura has lost control. After she sleeps with Weisman, the lead contractor building a barbecue shed in the backyard of her beach house, the other two workers on the job cross a boundary, making Laura feel that her space has been encroached upon. As Weisman disappears, sheltered and privileged Laura must manage the laborers herself. Her admonishments fall flat, forcing her to retreat behind the pristine glass windows—keeping watch and being watched simultaneously. Tensions churn, the workers become more unruly, and Laura ignores calls from her husband while downing bottles of red wine, waiting for Weisman to reappear.

By escalating the tension from one scene to the next, writer/director Verónica Chen relentlessly pushes her story—and Laura—to the breaking point. Using light and shadow, expansive overhead shots, and tight close-ups, Chen builds an unsettling atmosphere situated on differences of class and power. Gloria Carrá is brilliant as Laura, igniting the character with a quiet ferocity that undermines her serene life. Before you know it, High Tide envelops you, pulling you under until you can’t breathe.