Some filmmakers take it upon themselves to spell out every detail of the story they're sharing on the screen. Director and screenwriter Claire Denis has taken a very different approach in her film White Material; we never know for certain exactly where we are, when the events onscreen are taking place, or what has caused all this to happen. What Denis does make clear is that her characters have fallen into a world where all is chaos and dread, and White Material is a powerful and troubling study of the nexus of power, privilege, arrogance, and violence. White Material is set in an unnamed African nation, in a time presumably not far from the present day. Maria Vial (Isabelle Huppert) is a French expatriate who runs a coffee plantation that's seen better days. Despite it all, she takes great pride in her property and is determined to bring in the harvest, lording it over her employees with a firm hand. At the same time, the country is falling into political turmoil, and the plantation is in the middle of a revolt. A leader known as "The Boxer" (Isaach De Bankolé) is spearheading an uprising among the people, and he's commandeered an army of the poor and the alienated, as well as a band of child soldiers. The government seems unwilling or unable to put down The Boxer and his growing forces, and nearly all of Maria's employees have fled, convinced her plantation is going to be a target for violence when the powder keg is finally touched off. But Maria is clouded by arrogant denial; she stubbornly refuses to believe that anything will happen, she will not be bullied off her land, and despite all the evidence around her that a wave of bloodshed looms, she's much more concerned with bringing in the coffee crop than making her way to safety. At the same time, Maria's ex-husband, André (Christopher Lambert), is trying to convince her to leave while keeping an eye on their troubled twentysomething son, Manuel (Nicolas Duvauchelle), and their younger adopted child. Amidst the growing chaos, Maria's determination to pretend all is well in her world begins to look and feel like madness, especially after she gives The Boxer shelter at her estate as the military finally begins their crackdown. Given its lack of concrete details and reluctance to even assign names to many of its characters, White Material tells a tale that's enigmatic at best, but even though the film has been running for a good ten minutes before we have any idea of what is happening to the characters and why, from the start Claire Denis brilliantly captures a mood of unease, a time and place where things are not right and seemingly no one will be spared the ugliness clearly on its way. Denis' approach is understated but powerfully effective, and despite the rough-hewn beauty of the locations (captured with powerful naturalism by cinematographer Yves Cape), the air of menace permeates every frame of White Material, creating a tension that never lets up as the story eases its way to its grim (if not unexpected) conclusion. Denis is given a remarkable assist by Isabelle Huppert, who is excellent as Maria; Huppert makes the character's determination and love of her land as real and as felt as the dangerous absurdity in her unwillingness to acknowledge the danger of her situation and the folly of her actions. Huppert's performance is so realistic and pitch-perfect that she upstages Christopher Lambert and especially Nicolas Duvauchelle, who can't help but seem affected by comparison as her former husband and son; neither is bad, but they can't hold a candle to Huppert's quiet, tightly focused obsession. With Huppert's help, Denis has crafted a compelling tale in which several kinds of chaos converge with the impact of a hurricane visible just off the coastline. At the same time, White Material is also troubling in its depiction of a world with no heroes or villains, merely interchangeable figures with guns bringing destruction to those around them; the child soldiers seem only a bit more distracted and impatient than their adult peers, and every bit as violent. The film is too cryptic to point fingers at the root of the evil on display, but that may well be the point -- in a world like the one Denis has depicted, evil has become an inevitability, and we all play a part, whether we're active participants or struggling to ignore what's taking place before our eyes.