We’re all slaves to something; running from something, says Lilas.
That’s why the music of her thrash/death-metal band, impressive and melodic as it can be, does not exist to lure people in. Rather, Lilas and her bandmates use song because it’s the only form of expression they still have in their country. These women are not sirens: They are Slave to Sirens.
Their home, Beirut, is in turmoil. Their style of music, one whose whose heyday has passed. It doesn’t help that their lyrics and general essence rubs many fellow citizens the wrong way. Disappointing facts all, and the movie does not hide them. But it’s important to say here that Sirens is no downer. In fact, when I think of it, I smile.
Part of why is Shery. If Lilas is the soul of this band, Shery is the heart. The band formed around this pair, and hearing the details of their story makes watching them create all the more poignant. The bassist (Alma), drummer (Tatyana), and lead singer (Maya) fill out the stage. Even if you don’t like metal, it is reassuring to see people find a glimmer of happiness and follow their dreams.
There is no storyline here per se—although an economic crisis, cultural revolution, worldwide pandemic, and terrible explosion all did unfold during the filming of this one! Rather, the story is that these humans exist; that these people try. That they do not fit the stereotype of Middle Eastern women currently soaked into the brains of so many.
Because this is the case, the movie flits between interviews, voiceovers, and simple moments of observation. And so we see them shooting their own music video, sun itself shooting gold through the Beiruti haze. And so we watch them crack open another beer. And fight.
Blending personal and cultural intrigue, Sirens delivers a lot. I say, rock on, ladies! Moviemakers included.