French director Claire Denis is a fearless filmmaker. For starters, there is probably no other filmmaker working today—among those who have at least vaguely commercial aspirations, at least—as willing to let a film’s visual language, as opposed to its dialogue, tell its story. That can lead to confusion, as Denis is perfectly willing to throw her audience into narrative chaos. She’ll show you what’s happening without explaining why it’s happening, or even necessarily whom it’s happening to. She trusts her audience to be able to keep up, and to figure things for themselves.

That chaos occurs early and often in White Material. In its early scenes we see an unnamed Frenchwoman wandering through a rather apocalyptic African landscape, then Denis flashes—either forward in time, or back, it’s not immediately clear—to scenes of violence and massacre featuring a children’s army of machete- and pistol-wielding kids, some of whom look to be around 10.

We soon enough learn that the Frenchwoman is Maria Vial, the owner of a coffee plantation that is under siege from the rebels. Vial is played by Isabelle Huppert, who is perhaps even more fearless than Denis in her willingness to take her characters all the way to the (usually) bitter end of the idea that animate them.

Vial is African-born, and feels only contempt for the France that the rebels think she should return to. The plantation is hers, and perhaps even Africa is hers. When her workers flee for their lives at harvest time, she vows to stay on, alone if need be. There’s a kind of madness to her courage, which Huppert powerfully conveys by depicting Vial as equal parts strong and fragile, even childlike. She spends most of the film wandering around in a sundress and sandals, looking a little lost, even as she rages against the idea that this unnamed African country is no place for white people.

If she seems a little unhinged, her 20-something son Manuel (Nicolas Duvauchelle) is completely mad. He spends the first third of the movie unable to get out of bed, but after he is humiliated by a couple of child soldiers, he shaves his head and goes to war.

Dramatically speaking, Denis could’ve used a few more words to help make her points about Manuel and his mother. In particular, Manuel’s transformation from sleepyhead to Kurtz (there are strong echoes of Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now in this film) lacks credibility.

But Denis’ imagery here is incredibly strong, whether she’s depicting terrifying violence, or the lostness of the child warriors.

This is a film that would repay a second viewing, but to see it even once you’ll have to get to the River Oaks this week. Still, a one-week run is better than I’d feared for this film. White Material is one of the very few significant foreign films to open commercially in Houston since the Angelika closed.