The Arabic word sirāt means "path" or "way"; in Islamic scripture, it refers to a narrow bridge that connects Paradise and Hell. That makes it a fitting title for the director Oliver Laxe's new movie, which is both exhilarating and devastating.
Sirāt is a survival story about several unlikely traveling companions making their way through a godforsaken stretch of the Sahara Desert. It carries echoes of countless earlier films, from the arid landscapes of a John Ford Western to the post-apocalyptic setting of Mad Max. But nothing about Sirāt feels derivative or secondhand. It's an astonishing piece of cinema; I haven't had a more gripping experience in a movie theater all year.
It begins somewhere in southern Morocco, where hundreds of nomadic European revelers have gathered for a rave. It seems that World War III or something like it has broken out, though the specifics are left vague. Whatever's going on, Sirāt initially plays like a party at the end of the world: Imagine a remake of the recent dystopian thriller Civil War set at Burning Man, and you'll have some idea. Laxe, a French-born, Spanish director, sweeps you up in the intense physicality of the dancing and the propulsive beat of the music, composed by the experimental electronic musician Kangding Ray.
Wandering around this unruly desert bacchanal is a middle-aged man named Luis, played by the Spanish actor Sergi López. This clearly isn't Luis' scene. Along with his young son Esteban and their dog, Luis is searching for his 20-something daughter, Mar, who vanished months ago, and whom he has reason to suspect is among the ravers.
But she's nowhere to be found, and before long, armed officials show up and, invoking a state of emergency, break up the party. Amid the ensuing chaos, five ravers drive off, bound for another rave further south. Luis and Esteban impulsively drive after them, hoping against hope that they'll find Mar.
In Laxe's previous films, including the 2016 drama Mimosas, which also chronicled a perilous journey through Morocco, he has worked mainly with non-professional actors. With the exception of López, that's also true here. The director recruited most of the principal cast from raves that he himself attended, and they're all naturals. I especially liked Stefania Gadda as a woman of few words but immense screen presence, and Jade Oukid as a dancer of mesmerizing ability. You feel for these off-the-grid daredevils, and you admire their survival tactics during what will prove to be an exceedingly dangerous trek.
While the ravers have an enormous truck and a camper van, Luis and Esteban are in a small van that's ill-equipped for the treacherous terrain. But the ravers, somewhat reluctantly at first, let them tag along. They all share their limited resources, including food, water and gas. And they help each other out, when Luis has trouble fording a small river, or when the truck gets stuck on a steep mountain road.
Sirāt is a visually and sonically overwhelming experience; it's full of majestic desert vistas and propelled by that thrillingly percussive score. It's also a drama of extraordinary tension and, eventually, shocking tragedy, in which death has a way of striking when you least expect it. I was often reminded of The Wages of Fear and Sorcerer, two classic nail-biters, both adapted from a Georges Arnaud novel about a road trip from hell.
What separates Sirāt from those two films, though, is its lack of cynicism. López is terrific as a father whose child has disappeared and who's understandably wary and mistrustful of the world. But even at his bleakest moments, Luis receives unexpected acts of compassion from his new companions.
At one point, Esteban asks one of the ravers if he misses his family, while traveling on the road, and the raver responds, "I prefer this family." That might sound like something Vin Diesel would say in a Fast and Furious movie, and as it happens, Diesel's driving skills might have come in handy here. But Laxe's film is as sincere in its tenderness as it is unrelenting in its ferocity. There's something powerful about the movie's belief that, even as an apocalypse looms, kindness can survive and meaningful relationships can form. Just because the world is pitiless, Sirāt suggests, doesn't mean that people have to be.
Copyright 2025 NPR
