Sirât

Raves are gatherings that have played – and still do - a required taste in music, dipping its bare, ringed toes in the likes of techno and EDM (Electronic **** they are still extremely popular, as those that recently attended the three day festival Electronic Daisy Carnival in Mexico can testify to.This Oscar-nominated film does its best to recreate the audible essence of such an event, before taking it in a darker direction... FULL REVIEW HERE: ****/sirat.html

Sirat begins with an almost archetypal premise: a father searching for his daughter. Cinema, from The Odyssey to the contemporary road movie, has taught us that every search carries the promise of meaning. Yet this film does something far more honest—and far more unsettling: it betrays that promise. Not because it fails, but because it understands that life does not unfold along straight lines, but through **** concept that structures Sirat is contingency. The initial purpose is clear, firmly established from the very first scenes, yet the world—as it so often does—imposes itself. The story does not advance toward a clean resolution; it frays, shifts, opens outward. A sword of Damocles seems to hang over every step, reminding us that we never know where the road ends, nor when the thread holding it together might snap.This drifting “elsewhere” is not merely narrative; it is existential. Sirat situates itself within a tradition that runs from Camus to the philosophy of the absurd, where meaning does not disappear but ceases to obey our expectations. The father continues his search, but the journey gradually ceases to be only paternal and becomes instead an exposure to the raw uncertainty of the **** is here that the universe of the rave acquires its full symbolic weight. The raves are not decorative backdrops nor youthful exotica; they are spaces of flight. In a world increasingly defined by war, crisis, and collapse, the characters move from rave to rave much like the young people of Boccaccio’s Decameron fled the plague. Only now the plague is not biological: it is war, global indifference, hunger—both material and spiritual—emptiness, dust, **** rave emerges as a provisional community, a suspension of order, a desperate attempt to live intensely before everything collapses. It is not utopia, but an amplified present. Sound, bodies, repetition, trance—all gesture toward a mode of existence that offers no future, only intensity. This is not escape as salvation, but escape as sensation.Each protagonist embodies a distinct way of inhabiting this void. There are no heroes here, no redemptive arcs. Only lives in transit, fragmented existences, subjects moving forward without the guarantee of arrival. The camera accompanies this movement with a clear ethical stance: it does not judge, explain, or console. It observes. And in observing, it allows the spectator to feel the full weight of uncertainty.Ultimately, Sirat is an immersive journey toward an uncomfortable truth: life is not designed to fulfill the dreams we tell ourselves. The film dismantles the tedious—and deeply ideological—belief that perseverance inevitably leads to reward. Here, perseverance guarantees nothing, except the experience of the road itself.When the film ends, it does not feel as though something has been resolved, but rather as though something has been exposed. And perhaps that is its most honest wager: to remind us that, as in life itself, meaning is not always waiting at the end of the journey… and that sometimes, without warning, everything veers off in another direction.

Ambitious and sensory-driven, Laxe’s latest film prioritizes experience over narrative. The journey of a father and son searching for a missing daughter begins as a contemplative road movie and gradually shifts into a survival drama marked by two powerful, striking scenes. The problem lies in the path leading to them. The slow pacing, repetition, and lack of sustained emotional depth weaken the overall impact. While the sound design is impeccable and the desert looms as an overwhelming presence, the film favors atmosphere over genuine engagement, resulting in an uneven experience. It impresses in isolated moments but fails to maintain its strength throughout the entire journey.

'Sirāt' is definitely an experience, though not for the best reasons. With his new film, Óliver Laxe asks the viewer to accompany his characters on an emotional, psychological, and sensory journey where music, dust, and desolation are the main protagonists. But just like the vast and spectacular deserts it portrays, his work proves to be completely devoid of any relevant message. Despite a remarkable technical display and Laxe's skill in creating immersion, the film falters from beginning to end due to a lack of character development and a geopolitical and social myopia that is extremely problematic.

When will these trends end? The first thing that stands out in 'Sirāt' is its commitment to contemplative cinema, which I personally enjoy. Long, slow shots aim to hypnotize the viewer. This visual style is combined with a soundtrack that conveys the atmosphere of a rave, which may feel dissonant to those unfamiliar with this world, yet still maintains the established aesthetic. The cinematography is an appealing element. Composition, natural light, and settings are all strong. However, the color grading is what puts me off here. The film is set in an arid, desert-like environment, bathed in intense sunlight, yet the colorists choose a muted, almost desaturated palette compared to what could have been achieved given the spatial context. This current trend of toning down colors is completely questionable. A more striking visual personality could have been deployed. Editing takes a back seat to the irregular visual impact overall. It’s not bad, but it won’t linger in my memory. The character portrayal is precise and correct. It is particularly striking for audiences unaccustomed to these styles. The cast, mostly newcomers, delivers natural performances. Even so, I can’t fully connect with Sergi López, despite the emotional solidity he conveys. Bruno Núñez supports him, but he doesn’t fully convince me either. The story itself is not the main attraction of 'Sirāt'. The cinematography carries the script, giving much of the projection a sense of flatness and emptiness. At least there is structure, which includes plot turning points; even when predictable, they still manage to provide minimal surprise and some emotional depth. However, the main conflict—and the worst one—arises when comparing the film’s approach with various articles, texts, comments, and other sources about the real geopolitical context that inspired it. The director’s decision to distort historical facts becomes problematic from the perspective of narrative fidelity. I’ll be honest: I had no prior knowledge of the real history depicted in the plot. After reading articles to assess the film’s accuracy, I realized that Laxe takes creative liberties with the original events. If I haven’t read incorrect or false information, there is an exaggerated distance between what the film portrays and what actually occurs in real life. This frustrates me greatly because I cannot stand inaccuracy in cinema. I understand the point of view of those who accept adaptations with the screenwriter’s or director’s personal vision, but I cannot. I would rather watch a faithful film—even if it displeased me immensely—than something satisfying but not true. Of course, this is a matter of personal perspective. Even with its deviations from reality, the film manages a human portrayal by exploring issues like fragility, humanity itself, destiny, and randomness. All this is told through the harsh journey of people migrating in search of a desired future, highlighting the horrific obstacles they encounter. Yet at times, I feel Laxe uses these elements more for dramatization than to show a raw reality, which annoys me somewhat. 'Sirāt' has uneven strengths, as well as major flaws. The result is not entirely unpleasant, but it leaves one parched, unsure of what to think. There may be much technical effort, but the narrative is what fails me.