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Doesn't a Sacrifice usually have a point?

Romain Gavras attempts to critique a vapid culture's inability to confront a climate crisis, but serves a superficial satire.

Doesn't a Sacrifice usually have a point?

“The old way must burn to ash for the new way to be born,” declares Joan (Anya Taylor-Joy) as her mother’s funeral pyre illuminates the night sky. The violent overthrow of the old guard by a radical youth is the narrative interest of Sacrifice, the latest attempt at socially conscious critique from filmmaker Romain Gavras, son of legendary director Costa-Gavras. Departing from the action-heavy sensibility of Athena—his 2022 Netflix film co-written with Ladj Ly and Elias Belkeddar—Sacrifice sets its sights on satirizing celebrity culture and its disingenuous engagement with pervasive societal ills. Yet much like Athena, its political insights are insipid, relying on caricature rather than authentically engaging with the crises that plague our current times. 

Co-written by Gavras alongside playwright (and occasional Succession scribe) Will Arbery, Sacrifice‘s predominant focus is on climate change, riffing on the activist efforts of the Earth Liberation Front and Greta Thunberg alike. In fact, Joan is effectively a stand-in for the Swedish face of the youth climate justice movement, sporting the same blunt, blonde bangs. The Swedish connection goes even deeper with Gavras’ unusual casting of Stockholm rapper Yung Lean, who plays Arthur, Joan’s incestuously obsessed younger brother. Under Joan’s charge, an organized militia plots to disrupt a star-studded gala hosted in a marble quarry on a remote Greek island, their aim being to save the world from imminent destruction. The group fervently insists that the only way to quell a nearby rumbling volcano—the eruption of which would cause a mass extinction event—is to take three high-profile hostages and feed them to the flaming magma. Ironically, the gala in question is filled with sanctimonious celebs who purport to care about the environment, but are gathered to celebrate the deep sea mining start-up Poseidon Alliance, which is headed by evil entrepreneur Ben Bracken (Vincent Cassel). 

Only one guest claims to see through the bullshit: Mike Tyler (Chris Evans), a former A-lister who has been severely downgraded after a recent viral video captured his psychotic breakdown. Once the buff star of a Roman epic entitled Octavius, he arrives at the event for his “first major reappearance on an international stage,” though clearly unprepared to be back in the spotlight. His agent (Sam Richardson) also doesn’t seem to be up for the task of protecting the actor from his worst impulses; Mike overshares about the recent death of his father, incessantly fiddles with a burgeoning bald spot, and makes a sporadic speech about the hypocrisy of his fellow attendees, complete with a mic drop. While everyone else cowers as Joan and her army hijack the ceremony, Mike just looks happy that his anti-establishment rant is being echoed by others. Joan professes that Mike is the self-sacrificing “hero” that her vague prophecy foretells—a role that he’s happy to fill, considering that it’s the perfect opportunity to orchestrate his comeback.

It’s hard to parse exactly who is supposed to be outsmarting who in Sacrifice. There are countless holes poked in Joan’s belief system (which is more entrenched in metaphysical crankery than scientific study), and Mike’s desire to support her cause is rooted in careerist self-service. Even Joan’s father (John Malkovich in a paltry role) eventually shows up with the sole purpose of refuting her sacred reverence for the volcano, but his own peculiar principles similarly provoke scrutiny. The cartoonishly evil Bracken and his pampered wife (Salma Hayek) are essentially unsympathetic (particularly the former, who evokes the requisite shades of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos), an uninspired decision that never probes the actual interests of Poseidon Alliance, economic, environmental, or otherwise. This muddled outlook leads to a confounding treatise on the inutility of direct action. It’s reminiscent of Eddington‘s infuriating refusal to genuinely engage with its two (albeit extreme) sides—as if retreating within the cushy comforts of the status quo is just as damning as demanding that it be dismantled. To truly confront the necessity of revolution in the face of Sacrifice‘s pervasive greed wouldn’t serve Gavras’ mealy-mouthed musings.

Even more confounding than Gavras’ political point of view is his utilization of music, both in the soundtrack and the original score composed by Gener8ion (a.k.a. DJ/producer Surkin). Charli xcx pokes fun at herself as pop star Mother Nature (a departure from the naturalism she strives for in Erupcja, her far more substantive TIFF debut) and shows up almost solely to perform the synth-forward tune “Supernature.” She’s demonstrated her talent for penning original music for films like Bottoms, Bodies Bodies Bodies, and Barbie, but she’s abandoned by Gener8ion’s forgettable Ceronne remix. The real affronts, however, are the Leonard Cohen and Arthur Russell needledrops, their pared-down attitudes contrasting wildly with the film’s tense interrogation of superficial cultural attitudes. Considering Gavras’ music video history with M.I.A., Jay-Z, and Kanye West, politically provocative or inappropriately poptimist choices would have gelled much more naturally with his themes. 

When asked by Joan to distill his most integral creed, Mike banally offers “the power of stories to change the world.” While the line was clearly written to be a cheeky jab at Gavras’ expense, there’s a lack of introspection on the filmmaker’s part about what the goal of intentionally political filmmaking actually is. Mike’s statement is obviously vapid, but then again so is Sacrifice, which points many fingers—at the folly of celebrity worship, the oxymoronic existence of high-profile charity events, the misguided rage of the maligned—without providing a perspective of its own. Maybe stories can’t change the world, but they should at least aim to offer viewers some coherent provocation. Void of righteousness, indignation, or even straight-up nihilism, Sacrifice won’t cause even the most malleable of worldviews to waver.

Director: Romain Gavras
Writer: Romain Gavras, Will Arbery
Starring: Anya Taylor-Joy, Chris Evans, Salma Hayek, Vincent Cassel, Ambika Mod, Sam Richardson, Charli xcx, John Malkovich
Release Date: September 6, 2025 (TIFF)

 
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