“Sirât is at its heart a story about the human condition and how the only way sometimes is forward, even if it’s into the belly of the beast.”

In a film that shows at once the resilience of man when pushed to the brink of existence, and the futility of humanity in the face of nature at its grandest, Spanish filmmaker Óliver Laxe pulls out all the stops for what truly can only be called an experience, for both the audience and his characters. In the helmer’s third feature-length fiction, empathy and solidarity are the key words that characterize Sirât, which at its heart is an ‘odd couple movie’, except without the usual comedy that comes with the genre. Running on high octane and the pounding beats of techno, the film builds relationships slowly, only to tear them apart in a few explosive moments that become somewhat repetitive but retain their gut-churning quality nonetheless.

A wall of sound is being built in the middle of the Moroccan desert, and once the amps are hooked up the raggedy band of misfits and thrill seekers setting it up have their moment of transcendence, floating on a sea of relentless beats and hallucinogens. A low-rent Burning Man, if you will, but with as much love and peace to go around, and no influencers. Sticking out like a sore thumb are a heavyset father and his young son. Luis (veteran Spanish actor Sergi López) and Esteban (Bruno Núñez Arjona) are handing out flyers in a search for their daughter and sister, lost for weeks, and a girl who they think might attend raves like this. Nobody has seen the girl, and their search is cut short when the Moroccan army shows up to break up the party. When a couple of four-wheel-drive rigs escape the column of party animals that are being led back to civilization, Luis has no choice but to follow in his old and beat-up Citroën, since these were the people telling him there would be another rave, deeper into the desert. The hardened party people reluctantly accept him tagging along when everybody learns that in this environment cooperation is key to human survival. The brutality of the deep desert leaves no room for error, as this odd collection of characters will soon find out.

To avoid getting into spoiler territory we’ll leave it at the notion that things will turn for the worse; the territory that draws in the protagonists deeper and deeper is difficult enough in its own right. But from here on out Laxe builds a dramatic arc on a string of shocking moments that will put both bonds and bodies to the test. The way he uses his canvas to show the puniness of human life in this vast, inhospitable environment is a fully immersive experience. Even in moments of joy, when they still exist, a Mad Max-style dash through the desert becomes a thrill ride because Laxe knows how to use the surroundings optimally when combining them with speed and the sound of revving engines. To the hum of its fantastic soundtrack of oppressive techno mixed with more mood-setting, droning ambient sounds, the imagery at times becomes so abstract that a bit of Molly might just do the trick to drown out the trauma and the realization that you’re at the bleeding edge of civilization, and probably your life.

In the film’s final stretch Laxe turns Sirât into a Ten Little Indians of sorts, and while the intensity of the group’s final destination will keep you on edge for a good stretch, the repetitiveness of what’s happening causes unintentional laughs that diminish the dramatic effect, certainly in the face of the deep human trauma that unfolds. A moment of intentional comic relief is misguided, but these are small complaints for a film that takes its time to build up the connections between a band of unlikely travel companions, only to break them down in the most abrupt and traumatizing ways. An exhilarating ride through stupendously beautiful landscapes, Sirât is at its heart a story about the human condition and how the only way sometimes is forward, even if it’s into the belly of the beast.