Salma Hayek Pinault in Angelina's War Drama

A woman (Salma Hayek Pinault) enters a plaza sparsely occupied by customers enjoying afternoon coffee and a kiosk selling magazines and lottery tickets. She approaches the stand and touches a stack of newspapers before asking a question of the attendant (Demián Bichir), an older man with stooped shoulders and reading glasses perched on his nose. His speech is studied, as if a more natural cadence were struggling against an inherent severity. She begs the man to close up shop and have a drink with her. Her polite sweetness becomes more urgent with her refusal. This is a command, not a request.

Premiering at the Toronto Film Festival, Without blood is Angelina Jolie's latest foray into directing. The actress, who is making waves this festival season with her performance in Pablo Larrain's film Maryhe adapted this thinly plotted parable from the short story of the same name by the Italian writer Alessandro Baricco. Without blood indirectly investigates the psychological and generational weight of war.

Jolie is treading familiar ground here: a handful of her previous directorial efforts, including In the land of blood and honey, Uninterrupted AND First they killed my fatherset their action against the harrowing backdrop of war. While these other films were based on the details of real conflicts such as the war in Bosnia or the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia, Without blood makes no claim to any land or era. This lack of specificity might have worked in the hands of a more risk-taking director, but Jolie's approach to filmmaking can be as rigid as the woman's initial encounter with the concession stand attendant. Despite flashes of intelligence, especially when it comes to conveying the fragmented quality of trauma narratives, Without bloodIts vagueness ends up dampening many of its teachings.

An eerie tension hangs in the air as the man and woman settle into a nearby restaurant. She begins to tell her story, parts of which Jolie shows at the beginning of a confidently staged scene. Her name is Nina, and when she was a young girl, three men broke into her home and executed her father (Alfredo Herrera) and brother (Alessandro D'Antuono). As her father's screams filled the bungalow and her brother's blood dripped down her ankle, Nina hid quietly in a den beneath some floorboards.

Her fate has become the stuff of legend in this nameless country where a years-long battle has erupted between two factions. It is never clear whether this conflict is regional or political, and according to Jolie, it is beside the point. Without blood is more interested in how each war wounds people, from the youngest victims to the oldest executioners. Most of the film takes place in a bar, where Nina and the man, whose name we later learn is Tito, exchange versions of her fate. In Nina's telling, she is adopted by a pharmacist (Pedro Hernández), who arranges for her to gamble with a count (Luis Alberti). She ends up marrying at 14 and bearing the wealthy baron three children. As Tito tells it, Nina's union was a botched assassination turned marriage arrangement: the count fell in love instead of killing her. The truth lies somewhere between Nina's scarred memories and Tito's vague recollections. Between these exchanges, the pair offer platitudes about the dangers (but never the specifics) of war.

Nina and Tito’s conversation oscillates between compelling and dull moments, aided by the tense banter between Hayek Pinault and Bichir. Their chemistry is defined by mutual recognition and shared trauma. Hayek Pinault focuses on subtle movements—tears welling up in his eyes, a tightening grip on a spoon, or a pursed lips—to convey the depth of his character’s pain. Bichir captures the subtle changes required of his character, whose innocence becomes less clear-cut over the course of the film’s 90-minute running time.

However, Jolie’s overly cautious visual language limits the drama’s impact. Flashbacks to the couple’s past offer a few dynamic moments, such as bird’s-eye shots that suggest Tito has watched Nina over the years, hinting at their linked fates. There’s beauty here, too, as Jolie captures the vividness of the ochre landscape. For the most part, though, she relies on close-ups, alternating between the faces of the two diners in simple montages by Xavier Box and Joel Cox.

That innocent people suffer from conflicts is not a provocative position. But it seems that the only point Without blood can do when it isn’t focused—more interestingly—on observing how trauma lives in the body and shapes the mind. Despite flashes of power, the story ultimately feels too weak to carry the weight of its themes.