Juliette Binoche plays a photographer who specialises in working in combat zones in this drama directed by former photojournalist Erik Poppe. The film opens in an unsettling fashion, as Binoche's character, Rebecca, photographs the preparations of a female suicide bomber, then follows her to her destination. In taking these pictures, it turns out, she affects the course of events.

Rebecca is torn between devotion to her work and to her family, her two daughters and her husband (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), an awkwardly drawn dour character.  He is increasingly frustrated by the risks she takes; under pressure from him, she decides to step away from her work. There's no obvious plan for what she might do next, apart from spend more time with her daughters, one of primary school age, one a teenager. Inevitably, of course, she's drawn back into the fray.

We get a brief sense of context, of the reception of Rebecca's work, of the way media organisations use/present it, and of the politics of embedded journalism. But the emphasis, too often, is on the moment when the shutter is pressed.

Poppe registers Rebecca's moral commitment as well as the compulsive aspect of her dedication, but the film oscillates between drama and statement; it becomes a series of set pieces and what-ifs, particularly towards the end. Yet there's one aspect of the story Poppe never openly investigates, despite the emphasis on female characters; it is intriguing to wonder what the tone of the film would have been like if the protagonist had been a man.