‘Sirāt’ Review – Oliver Laxe’s Ecstatic, Excruciating Thriller Is Worth Raving About, And Then Some

For my money, nothing in the world could ever be less desirable than the act of attending, nay, enduring a rave. My carefully curated music library features very little electronic music; I can think of about two songs off the top of my head, and they’d be an insult to those who call themselves “ravers.” To be clear: This disinterest does not derive from a place of feeling “better than,” but instead “weaker than.” One of my closest friends regularly attends raves in and around New York City and its surrounding boroughs, often emerging into the dawn after having descended into the evening’s underground club of choice around midnight. This, to me, sounds terrible. Around midnight, I tend to be writing, or watching a film, or attempting to fall asleep. (In other words, I am lame.) The raves that occur in the middle of nowhere sound even worse, with the filth and sweat and heat and curious substances and eardrum-bursting speakers they’re often associated with, all enjoyed by a horde of strangers in the middle of a random field. If I didn’t have so much respect for those who cherish these experiences, I’d go so far as to call these gatherings the closest popular example we’ll ever have to Hell on Earth.

With his new film, Sirāt, Oliver Laxe seems destined to prove me right, all while maintaining the sincere affection he has towards the act of raving and its communal promises. The French-born Spanish filmmaker has made two films at once, both exceptional. The first: An ode to a distinct cultural phenomenon, the likes of which are rarely depicted with such passion on screen, let alone in any form of media that isn’t limited to 30-second social media snippets. The second, and the far more cinematic: A word of caution to anyone who dares to dance with the devil, especially in a barren desert filled only with a few hundred of one’s closest friends (otherwise known as complete strangers, most of whom are under the influence of drugs, life, or both), regardless of the primary reason you find yourself there. 

The place, a mountainous stretch of the Moroccan portion of the Sahara Desert, is populated strictly by nomads who have heard tell of a party, one that will make their ears bleed and their souls ascend. But Laxe’s principal characters, Luis (Sergi López, the cast’s only professional actor) and Esteban (Bruno Núñez Arjona), aren’t there to take part in the festivities. The father-son duo is in search of Luis’ daughter Mar, who disappeared long before the opening moments of Sirāt. They loosely know where their journey has begun; where they’ll end up, and with whom, is as much a part of the core terror that Laxe imbues his thriller with from the instant its tune begins to blare.

The travelers they encounter aren’t out for blood, though. They just happen to have as little of a clue about Mar’s whereabouts as her family members do, and the best they can do is offer their assistance. Not long into the picture, we meet a cast of characters that Laxe’s costume designer and former partner, Nadia Acimi, helped hand-pick based on her own experiences as an avid raver. There’s Jade (Jade Oukid), a collected woman who, if we’re to judge a book by its grim cover, has a dark past; Tonin (Tonin Janvier), a prosthetic leg-donning fella; and Bigui, who lacks one half of a forearm, to name a few. (Based on his own appearance – tall, slender, long locks to make any aspiring bohemian jealous – that Laxe doesn’t enter the frame himself is mildly confounding.) Like we said, the most they can do is try to help; that’s why they offer to take Luis and Esteban, along with their trusty pooch Pipa, towards Mauritania, where another rave is being touted as the next big spot. 

Of course, there’s no guarantee that Mar will be there, and Laxe and co-writer Santiago Fillol never pretend that their tale will have a happy ending. What they do almost too well is maintain enough uncertainty to make a viewer certain that something bad is going to happen without ever tipping their hand as to what that “something” is. As is only fitting, there are a number of “somethings,” none of them good, each arguably more tragic than the previous, and none we would ever dare to hint at here in regards to context. (Sirāt is designed to be seen in a packed house, and you still can through Friday, the close of its one-week awards-qualifying release before receiving a wider rollout from NEON in January.) 

Producer/composer Kangding Ray’s electronic score throbs throughout the proceedings, delicately dancing along the line between being overdone in the most dramatic of moments and creating natural tension with compositions that are both as minimal and as booming as EDM can be. But it’s Laxe that exits (er, outlasts?) Sirāt as its revelation, an assured and ferocious filmmaking talent whose gift for building worlds, if only to kick them down, one metaphorical landform at a time, may only be outdone by his knack for shocking an audience while never leading them astray. His movie is a minefield, one that has been so meticulously arranged to achieve maximum destruction that no step is safe. Perhaps, Sirāt argues, that’s precisely where the adventure lies: In the guaranteed annihilation that comes with the discomforting revelation that we’re too far gone already, and might as well head to a rave while we still can.

Sirat is currently playing in theaters in New York and Los Angeles for an Oscar-qualifying run courtesy of NEON. The film will return to theaters for a wider release beginning in January 2026.