Dressed all in black, Lilas Mayassi and Shery Bechara stand outside a restaurant while staring down at Mayassi’s phone, smiles painting their faces. The bandmates giggle to each other as Mayassi shows Bechara pictures of a woman she met at a nightclub the previous evening. As the two ruminate over Mayassi’s late-night excursion, a swarm of protestors rounds the street corner behind them; the demonstrators raise their fists, raise cardboard signs, and all preceding tranquility combusts into rage-fueled noise. But Mayassi and Bechara continue to converse, their electric smiles ever shining.
This sequence, taken from one of the concluding scenes of Rita Baghdadi‘s new documentary “Sirens,” epitomizes the endearing yet unshakably dour core of “Sirens,” which follows the rise of Slave to Sirens, Lebanon’s first all-female metal band. Baghdadi’s showcase of the nation’s musical trailblazers balances emotional honesty with self-assured prowess, two qualities that also coarse through the veins of all five band members, although the doc mainly follows Mayassi and Bechara, with the former receiving most of the focus.
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With its cinematic characteristics and free-flowing structure, “Sirens” shares a higher ratio of stylistic commonalities with a traditional narrative film as opposed to a rudimentary documentary. Opting out of the subgenre’s overused reliance on talking heads and voiceover guidance, Baghdadi chooses to silently follow the band members: capturing their everyday activities, festival appearances and recording sessions through a shimmery verité POV. This unobtrusive tactic enables “Sirens” to benefit from the magnetic spontaneity of its subjects. Given the progressive steps that Slave to Sirens is taking for their community — historically speaking, Lebanon has remained rather resolute in its objection to alternative music — Baghdadi’s documentary arrives pre-packaged with fascinating subject matter, and the filmmaker’s empathy shines through the visual language she employs.
Both to the film’s detriment and benefit, Baghdadi chooses to focus on the musicians’ personal lives, specifically Mayassi’s romantic relationship, which precludes any further insight into the band’s stance on the country’s social issues — or even their artistic origins. This allows “Sirens” to present the struggles of the LGBTQ community in the Middle East but sacrifices a wider appreciation for Bechara’s perspective, and leaves band members Maya Khairallah (vocals), Alma Doumani (bass) and Tatyana Boughaba (drums) comparatively voiceless.
Similarly, “Sirens” struggles to craft a declarative statement to warrant its feature-length duration. After locking onto an easygoing tempo tuned to the beat of wholesome asides and casual encounters, the documentary never departs from this rhythm. Aside from a scene in which Bechara’s frustration with Mayassi leads to the former departing the band’s lineup — a sequence that feels entirely contrived and employed solely for the sake of superficial drama — the documentary’s runtime feels stretched, even at a succinct 78 minutes. Furthermore, apart from several scattered moments, “Sirens” skims over the band’s insights into the state of Lebanon’s tense political climate. Baghdadi’s affection for cherishing quaint moments overwhelms the opportunity to fuse the band’s affable charm to a well-rounded depiction of modern-day Middle Eastern women existing on the fringes of their culture.
In the end, Baghdadi chooses to impart a message of positivity: The world is changing, and the members of Slave to Sirens are growing up. The future may be unknown, but Mayassi and her bandmates seem steadfast in their determination to share their fiery spirits on stages across the globe. If the band’s spiky but unwavering friendships remain intact, one can only hope that the Lebanese metalheads will be rocking their way into countless hearts very soon. [C+]
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