Sirat

Oliver Laxe’s trance-like odyssey blurs myth and rave

The road movie—or road story—has been a device used by storytellers since the first fictional tale was inscribed onto a tablet with The Epic of Gilgamesh. There is something about traversing space that reflects the movement and growth of a character, offering a tidy structure to present challenges for the hero to overcome and learn from. Yet the use of the mythical journey—a descent into an otherworldly realm—is far less common today than it was for the Ancient Greeks, with stories like Orpheus or The Odyssey. Instead, contemporary cinema often opts for a more literal exploration of self-discovery, as seen in Nomadland (2020). Oliver Laxe, the Franco-Hispanic director, revives the ancient mythic descent in his latest Cannes-winning film, Sirat (2025).

Sirat follows a Spanish father, Luis (Sergi López), who is searching for his missing daughter, Mar, with his young son Esteban (Bruno Núñez Arjona), amid a techno rave in the Moroccan desert. They fall in with a group of partygoers headed to a second rave across the barren landscape, where Mar may be. Luis and Esteban embark on a treacherous journey across the unforgiving land, questioning whether they can trust their punkish companions—and whether the ominous feeling gnawing at their gut is a warning worth heeding.

Sirat refers to the mythical bridge between paradise and hell—said to be thinner than a strand of hair. Laxe immerses viewers in a techno-soaked atmosphere through patient, detail-oriented framing, with hypnotic images of the wide-open desert that evoke David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia (1962). He lulls us with the pulsing dance scenes while building a creeping sense of unease, as Luis observes odd yet plausibly dismissible behavior from their fellow travelers. As the hero’s journey unfolds, we begin to wonder: Are the characters crossing the Sirat from paradise or from hell—and is the answer waiting for them at the end?

This tonal and visual tightrope is held aloft by the exceptional collaboration between cinematographer Mauro Herce and the pulsating techno score by Kangding Ray. The entire experience is orchestrated with confident aplomb by Laxe’s steady hand.

In many ways, Sirat recalls Laxe’s earlier film Fire Will Come (2019): it begins with a structured plot, only to slowly shed narrative momentum in favor of aesthetic and liminal exploration. What starts as a simple missing-person thriller gradually morphs into something dreamlike and uncanny. By the third act, we feel less like Sherlock Holmes and more like Dante Alighieri, crossing through a strange and fearsome world with nothing but our curiosity and dread to guide us.

This descent into the opaque and magical will enthrall some viewers—those attuned to the sensibilities of Gaspar Noé or the Mad Max films. But Laxe’s choice to begin with a more conventional setup may leave others feeling betrayed when the story abandons its initial promises. A more consistent tone from the outset might have delivered a stronger narrative throughline and greater emotional payoff.

The cast is uniformly strong. Veteran actor Sergi López anchors the film with quiet intensity, while young Bruno Núñez Arjona is commanding as Esteban. The punk group—played by Stefania Gadda, Joshua Liam Henderson, Richard Bellamy, Tonin Janvier, and Jade Oukid—bring an impressive ability to sketch distinct, layered characters. Remarkably, Laxe gives us no backstories. Instead, through small quotidian moments, the characters accrue a depth that no exposition-heavy monologue could ever hope to achieve.

In the end, Sirat is both a mesmerizing trip and an unsettling descent. Laxe once again reveals his fascination with liminal and mystical spaces, especially in how they intersect with our relationship to a harsh natural world. One can only hope he continues to lead us through these hypnotic, fearsome landscapes in his future films.

8.2/10