Accepting the Unpleasantness of 'Sirat'

In marking my return to cinematic writing after a period of absence, I couldn't have challenged myself more than by attempting to discuss Oliver Laxe’s new film Sirat.

The moment the film begins, it announces its intention to put the audience in a trance – a trance of techno, dancing and discomfort. We see a father and son looking for something in a stack of photos while surrounded by a large group of young people dancing as if there's no tomorrow. Clearly, the duo are fish out of water. We also feel ill-at-ease because this is a long scene, longer than usual for an opener, forcing us to prolong our speculation about what's yet to come. We then learn that the father and son are there because they are looking for their missing daughter and sister. Not knowing exactly where to turn, they decide to follow a group of partiers who are headed to another rave.

This bold beginning sets the pace for the rest of the film. Sirat has its calmer moments, moments of surprising camaraderie, moments that even warm the viewer’s heart – but if there's one lesson to be learned as time passes, it's that we can take nothing for granted. There will always be something to surprise us around every corner. We must adapt to the world of discomfort in the film.

Along the father-son journey, they hear news of conflicts in the area on the radio. It’s near-future Morocco, and there appears to be an escalation of a conflict reminiscent of a third world war. At this point, we limit ourselves to our role as observers, with few theories about what we see, naturally intrigued by what is happening. We begin to understand better who these people are, why they are the way they are, and how they view progress. In this regard, the progress the modern world offers is scant, and they might have some reason to desire a return to the origins of human civilisation. 

We also start to feel that this group of partiers travelling with the father and brother of the missing girl might be good people. We see how they establish trust with the family, and we even entertain the hope that everything turns out well, although the film never loses its heavy aura that hints at tragedy around every corner. A caravan film with a dark tone that takes place on deserted and dangerous roads – where have we seen this before? 

It's not hard to draw comparisons with William Friedkin’s classic Sorcerer (1977), and they are quite pertinent. Just like in that film, we witness a journey that glues us to our seats and makes our hearts beat faster for reasons far from pleasant. Both films sport a cloak of casual pessimism that contradicts naive beliefs that living in a world where doing the right thing will always bring positive results.

One of Sirat's greatest strengths is precisely this ability, through cinematic hyperbole, to show us that life may just be a series of random events. Things could go well, but other times they can also go very wrong, even if we do nothing to deserve that negative outcome. There is no sugarcoating here, and we are never told or shown what we want to hear and see.

Another strong message presented by Sirat considers humanity's relationship with the world around us. Is having our own little world and neglecting the greater problems of the earth and its inhabitants acceptable? Is creating a bubble that shields us from society’s woes the right attitude to take? Or is it that, no matter how much we try to escape and live in our small world, the problems will always come to us and we will pay for it sooner or later? The director's choice to stage a group of carefree young Westerners partying in Morocco while the country is going through great turmoil is not accidental. There is something to be said here about the privilege of ignorance in relation to tragedy. Who has the right to that alienation?

Sirat is one of those films that many people will say they will never watch again. I understand the sentiment. It is not an easy experience. It is memory-searing, unexpected, raw, and also cruel. It's a film that leaves its viewers disturbed. With a considerable amount of time having passed since my viewing, I confess that a certain desire to see it again has grown in me. Is it that human tendency to peek at the wrecked cars when we pass an accident on the highway? Is it because sometimes we need to feel all the feelings to feel alive? Or is it because the best art indeed the most provocative?

It's hard to have a concrete answer, just as it's hard to understand exactly everything Sirat has to tell us. In its final scene, we are reminded that life is full of obstacles, and that all we can do is keep walking. When the credits roll, I am certain that this is a film that uses its shock value not just for the sake of it, but to confront us with nature itself – both the one that surrounds us, and the one that lives within us.

Sirat is currently showing in select theaters in the U.S.

-Pedro