A widower (Gabriel Byrne) and his two sons confront their different feelings and memories of his wife (Isabelle Huppert), a famed war photographer whose career was cut short in the wake of her untimely death.
Louder than Bombs subverts preconceptions so slyly, many audiences and critics will be easily forgiven for thinking it is nothing more than a work of morose egotism.
The people aren't people here; they're not even types - just instruments for conveying words and pictures, some of which are artful, but not nearly enough to make up for the dire drear and maudlin indulgence.
The movie stirs all sorts of personal feelings, and the mixture of plainness and flourish in its aesthetic creates a fresh, resonant and absorbing family portrait.
There are moments of almost unspeakable beauty in the film, not the least of which are Isabelle's war zone photographs. Like the movie itself, they dare you to look away but award you deeply for baring witness.
A ponderous, overwrought meditation on grief, loss, guilt, and memory that prods and probes its characters more like lab rats than living, breathing creations.
