Review: sirat (2025)

One of Nietzsche's famous quotes is I would only believe in a God who could dance. If there is any God who cannot follow the rhythm of the four-to-the-floor beat that is not my God. It must be an idol to me! And there it is: You.

This movie is about a group of Freaks who are eager not to play but to dance. In a way to heal the rounds of the past and breath again.  The echoes of Nietzsche’s Tomb Song from Thus Spoke Zarathustra resonate here:

Once I wanted to dance as I had never dance before: over all the heavens I wanted to dance [...] I stood ready for the best dance, when you murdered my ecstasy with your sounds - The Tomb Song

Those who dance to their own music embrace their inner passions and desires to the fullest extent. Although they may be misunderstood or judged by others who lack the ability too perceive the depth and beauty of such individuality.

In this film, the ravers — outcasts bound together as a chosen family — embody this principle. They represent freedom, escape, and human fragility, living on the margins yet refusing to give up joy.

I must confess my own complicity: Me, too, easily identify as a freak — in my particular case because of my right thumb — and I felt the pain of the protagonist, Luis, at the film’s midpoint. His search for his lost daughter transcends narrative meaning; it is a meditation on grief, the unbearable sorrow of a father who has lost his only child. And yet, amidst desert healing sounds and unconscious ravers, life persists. One can be stranded in the middle of the desert, but dancing still offers salvation — a new path to follow.

As a child, the first time I heard a kick drum, I instinctively began to stomp my feeton the ground and clap without any reason, as if there were no tomorrow, clapping with joy and amusement. I choose dancing as my way of sweating instead of the gym. Later, I abandoned it, worn out by Friday-night venues crowded with drunk expats and local junkies. But watching Sirat revived that inner-self child, reminding me of an innocence dancer buried long time ago.

The ravers in the film — Stef, Jade, Josh, Tonin and Bigui — appear not as fictional constructs but as themselves, using their real names. This blurring of the fine line between actor and character reinforces the authenticity of being presence: a community of nomads bound not by blood but by movement, a community based in  dance and free spirit.

The final sequence, on the roof of a moving train, strikes me as a metaphor for life itself. No one knows where the ride ends. Life’s journey is uncertain, difficult for everyone, but ultimately inescapable. After despair, one must still accept the ticket and continue the ride. To refuse is not an option. I solemny swear I identfy myself as a freak (due to my right thumb) and I felt the pain of the main protagonist, Luis, at the midpoint. The search for the lost daughter goes beyond meanings. And the sorrow for his only child. Desert healing sounds. Unconscious ravers. Love that sequence. Imitating life. You can be in the middle of the dessert but dancing can save you and give you a new path to follow. 

Sincerely,

My best wishes