The Cannes crowd went wild for "Sirāt," Oliver Laxe's latest opus that took home joint jury prize honors. For this reviewer, however, the film is an overhyped mess that wears out its welcome long before the credits roll.
Laxe's fascination with the Sahara desert landscape shines through in the film's visually stunning opening scenes, particularly during a rowdy rave that kicks off the story. The scene is undeniably captivating, capturing both the abandon and desperation of the crowd. However, it's hard to shake the feeling that this raw energy is also a precursor to something far more meandering and unfulfilling.
As two outsiders – Luis, a middle-aged man searching for his missing daughter, and his young son Esteban – arrive on the scene, things only get more convoluted. Their interactions with the partygoers are marked by a mix of desperation and hostility, leaving one wondering if they're truly looking for answers or just imposing their own emotional burden.
When the army arrives to shut down the rave, things take a turn into Pythonesque absurdity, with the protagonists rebelling against authority in a way that feels more like a parody than a genuine call to action. The film's narrative becomes increasingly opaque, making it difficult to discern what actually matters or whether Mar's disappearance is worth exploring.
The question of why Luis searches for his daughter at all remains unanswered as the story dissolves into a haze of psychedelic indulgence and electronic music. The film's inability to grasp its own themes – be they spiritual, emotional, or societal – results in a frustratingly opaque experience that fails to deliver on its initial promise.
Ultimately, "Sirāt" feels like an improvised spectacle without direction or purpose, masquerading as something profound while delivering nothing but valueless empty space. Its visual beauty is undeniable, but when it's stripped of narrative substance and emotional resonance, the film becomes little more than a shallow mirage.
Laxe's fascination with the Sahara desert landscape shines through in the film's visually stunning opening scenes, particularly during a rowdy rave that kicks off the story. The scene is undeniably captivating, capturing both the abandon and desperation of the crowd. However, it's hard to shake the feeling that this raw energy is also a precursor to something far more meandering and unfulfilling.
As two outsiders – Luis, a middle-aged man searching for his missing daughter, and his young son Esteban – arrive on the scene, things only get more convoluted. Their interactions with the partygoers are marked by a mix of desperation and hostility, leaving one wondering if they're truly looking for answers or just imposing their own emotional burden.
When the army arrives to shut down the rave, things take a turn into Pythonesque absurdity, with the protagonists rebelling against authority in a way that feels more like a parody than a genuine call to action. The film's narrative becomes increasingly opaque, making it difficult to discern what actually matters or whether Mar's disappearance is worth exploring.
The question of why Luis searches for his daughter at all remains unanswered as the story dissolves into a haze of psychedelic indulgence and electronic music. The film's inability to grasp its own themes – be they spiritual, emotional, or societal – results in a frustratingly opaque experience that fails to deliver on its initial promise.
Ultimately, "Sirāt" feels like an improvised spectacle without direction or purpose, masquerading as something profound while delivering nothing but valueless empty space. Its visual beauty is undeniable, but when it's stripped of narrative substance and emotional resonance, the film becomes little more than a shallow mirage.