The comparison is preposterous, but White Material has something a Out of Africa reversed. The romantic plot gives way to the rout family, voluntarism to the tragedy, African Dream African nightmare. This is also probably the story. In a mysterious African country, Maria (Isabelle Huppert) decides against all odds to continue to manage its coffee plantation, despite the raging civil war.
Nightmare, the story of White material was something disjointed, as if to signify the state of decomposition of a continent where violence reigns, and where wars are no succession without consistency. The characters actions sometimes absurd, sometimes mysterious. The narrative thread begins in situ, seems to stop, then restarts without warning. No indication of place, a vague political context (the current government against rebels led by "The Boxer"), a vague family context as Maria Vial, manager of the Coffee Plantation Vial, Emmanuel and his son played by Duvauchel.
This lack of direction leaves us with a monstrous universe. The characters are is too transparent - greed, lust for power spread over the faces exalted - or frankly opaque - perseverance unexplained Maria, Emmanuel nihilistic getaway. What remains are people who fight, or earn money as they can.
An absurd reality, quite raw, yet leaves room for fantasy. Perhaps it is the great strength of the film: the ability to make this a fantasy general rout. The chronology of events is not clear, the narrative is hit with narcolepsy: the dream sequences apparently fit naturally into the debacle. The haunting tone of the music (?) Is not for nothing in the installation of the hallucinatory atmosphere. The war rages on in silence, bodies are numb with grief. If violence is muted is that it is a soft drug, which leads us quietly in a daze. Even the rhythm of reggae, that one sometimes hears, has the nostalgic look limp and a quiet march toward death.
In this gruesome picture, the silhouette of skeletal and disheveled Isabelle Huppert is very suitable. It is this coldness, this fundamental lack of generosity in the game of French actress, (we can not help but imagine intellectualizing his role, his character theorizing). This is great in a sense, because that's how Maria is thoroughly chilling best in this world and into the fire and blood. But still, there is even less sensitive to violence, the defeat in war, and that this character keeps her face hidden behind too blonde, too northern (the "white matter in question"?) And all sense sensation - even when she cries or when she cries.
Do not even mention Nicolas Duvauchelle and his portrayal of teen thirties. From the outset, we do not really know if it is only the credibility of the actor is missing, or if the character is too crazy to be likely. It is "like a dog," someone said. And it's true that theatrical, made his mini warlord, then ends in an orgy of drugs with her friends child soldiers. Either.
In sum we get a confusing film to a terrifying world of violence fluid and serene. But Claire Denis managed to install this universe of characters for the price, the price of the plot, at the expense of depth of field - at the cost of any decision of any attachment to the viewer.