Picture a young boy in the Atlas Mountains, transfixed by Charlie Chaplin flickering on a makeshift screen in 1956. That single moment of escape sets off a chain of events across sixty years that exposes how a nation’s unhealed wounds shape every private life that follows. This article takes a close look at Nabil Ayouch’s 2017 film Razzia, tracing its four interwoven stories, the real Moroccan history they rest upon, the performances that give them weight, and the technical choices that turn everyday settings into sources of quiet dread.
The Interwoven Nightmare: Unpacking the Narrative Labyrinth
Four lives stretch across time and place, each one shaped by the same forces of poverty, dogma and silence. The story begins in 1956 when a Berber boy named Chamma discovers cinema during a screening of Modern Times. That spark carries him to Casablanca, where dreams meet exploitation. In the 1980s Salim tries to hold on to hope in the slums while Islamist influence and the bread riots of 1981 pull him toward violence. Today Ines teaches in a conservative village and hides her relationship with another woman, while Adil, a gay architect in Casablanca, faces blackmail and professional ruin. Ayouch cuts between these threads without warning, so the viewer feels the same disorientation that trauma survivors often describe when memories surface out of order.
The connections between the characters surface gradually. Chamma ends up as a projectionist whose old films reach Salim as a boy. Salim’s later choices tighten the constraints that Ines and Adil must navigate. These links turn separate struggles into one long cycle. The screenplay draws directly from documented events: Morocco’s independence struggles, the 1981 riots, and the continuing pressure on LGBTQ+ people. Folk stories about jinn hover in the background, standing in for the invisible rules that control daily life. Shooting took place in real villages and crowded medinas, which gives every location the weight of lived experience rather than set dressing.
Shadows of Independence: Historical Phantoms Haunting the Present
Morocco’s post-colonial years supply the ground the film stands on. The 1956 section shows the moment when French rule ends and new forms of control take its place. Chamma’s hopes for a freer life run into the censorship and crackdowns of King Hassan’s era. Later segments reference the Zenata floods and the droughts that followed, events that left many young people open to radical messages. In the present day Ines works in the shadow of the Arab Spring’s stalled promises, while Adil moves through a city whose new towers hide old exclusions. Ayouch has described the title itself as a reference to the Berber word for raid, pointing to the systematic taking of personal futures.
The film sits alongside earlier Moroccan work such as Hamid Bennani’s films and Ayouch’s own Horses of God from 2012. Where those earlier pieces sometimes stayed within state-approved lines, Razzia speaks more directly about sexuality and dissent. Its release drew protests from conservative groups, a reminder that the battles of the 1980s have not disappeared. Viewers who know the country’s recent history recognise how each era’s public failures become private prisons for the characters on screen.
Gendered Terrors: Women and Queerness Under Siege
Ines’s story sits at the centre. Maryam Touhami plays a teacher whose smallest gestures carry the risk of exposure. A glance across a classroom or a hidden photograph becomes charged with fear. Her relationship ends in a direct clash with village expectations that demand she erase part of herself. The 2004 family code changes improved some legal rights, yet daily reality in many places still enforces older codes. Adil’s parallel experience shows the same pressure from another angle: furtive meetings, professional sabotage and the constant calculation of who might be watching. Both arcs make clear that class and location shape how much danger a person faces.
Salim’s path offers a different angle on the same system. His turn toward radical action grows out of repeated humiliation and the sense that no other route to dignity exists. The film never excuses the outcome, but it shows how the surrounding society helped create the conditions. These portraits stay grounded in recognisable human behaviour rather than abstract statements, which is why the tension never lets up.
Sonic Assaults: The Rhythm of Repressed Rage
Sound works as an active force throughout. The score mixes traditional gnawa rhythms with sharper electronic tones that tighten as pressure builds. A joyful Chaplin sequence gives way to sudden silence after an arrest. Riot scenes layer overlapping voices and impacts until the viewer feels inside the crowd. Village mornings carry the call to prayer and low conversations that never quite reach the listener directly. In Casablanca traffic and pop songs fill the air while the characters remain locked in private silence. Dialogue moves between Darija and French, so even the language itself marks distance between people.
Cinematography’s Claustrophobic Gaze
Amine Berrada’s camera keeps faces close when emotion peaks and pulls back to show how small a person looks against mountains or minarets. Low angles during moments of humiliation place power in the hands of whoever stands above. Light moves from warm early light to harsher evening tones, marking the slow loss of possibility. Small details in the frame carry extra meaning: classroom posters of covered women sit near Ines’s concealed personal photos, and condensation on a cell wall suggests tears that go unspoken. These choices turn ordinary rooms and streets into spaces that feel charged with threat.
Illusions of Normalcy: Visual and Practical Craft
Without any supernatural effects the film relies on careful practical work. Makeup and lighting age characters across decades without drawing attention to the seams. Locations and costumes come from Moroccan sources, so period details feel lived-in rather than researched. A modest budget of around three million euros and occasional weather delays in the mountains forced a flexible approach that actually helped the performances stay immediate. Editing moves between timelines with precision, building suspense through timing rather than shock cuts.
Legacy’s Lingering Chill: Influence on Global Cinema
Razzia reached audiences at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2017 and drew attention for connecting local Moroccan stories to wider questions of belonging and control. Its example appears in later films that treat marginalised lives with similar patience, such as Capernaum in 2018. Inside Morocco it reopened arguments about what stories could be told on screen and helped clear space for more open queer narratives in subsequent years. The Chaplin image has turned up in music videos and protest imagery as a quiet symbol of resistance. Ayouch’s body of work places Razzia at the centre of a trilogy that began with Ali Zaoua and continued through Horses of God. Its presence at festivals years later shows how cinema can keep difficult conversations alive when other outlets fall quiet. Further discussion of Ayouch’s approach appears at Dyerbolical (https://dyerbolical.com/about-us/).
Director in the Spotlight
Nabil Ayouch was born in Casablanca in 1969 to a French Catholic mother and a Moroccan Jewish father. Growing up in a working-class area after independence, he found films through bootleg tapes and came to admire directors such as Scorsese and Kurosawa. He began with theatre at eighteen, then moved into commercials that sharpened his eye for visual storytelling. His first feature, Ali Zaoua in 2000, followed street children in Marrakech and won notice at Venice. Horses of God in 2012 examined the path to suicide bombing and received awards at Toronto. Much Loved in 2015 looked at sex work and was banned at home yet submitted for the Oscars. Razzia followed in 2017, then DNA in 2020. The Blue Caftan arrived in 2022 as another queer-centred drama. Ayouch set up Ali Zaoua Productions in 2006 to support new voices and has produced projects including Rock the Casbah. His influences range from Truffaut’s warmth to Gatlif’s attention to outsiders. Public campaigns on corruption and women’s rights run alongside his films. He lives between Casablanca and Paris with actress Amina Rachid.
Actor in the Spotlight
Maryam Touhami trained at Morocco’s National Institute of Dramatic Arts and moved from stage work into screen roles. Her performance as Ines required a level of emotional openness that brought her wider recognition. After Razzia she appeared in Sofia in 2018 and took the lead in The Last Queen in 2019, earning festival attention for a historical warrior role. Television work includes the series Al Rawi. She has spoken about drawing on her own encounters with conservative expectations, which lends her screen presence an added layer of conviction. She also mentors younger performers and continues to advocate for greater visibility for LGBTQ+ stories. Her recent credits include Volcano in 2021 and theatre pieces such as Les Bonnes, with further projects in development.
Bibliography
Ayouch, N. (2017) Razzia production notes. Ali Zaoua Productions. Available at: https://alizaouaprod.com (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Jaafar, A. (2017) ‘Toronto: Nabil Ayouch on Morocco-set drama Razzia’, Deadline, 10 September. Available at: https://deadline.com/2017/09/toronto-nabil-ayouch-razzia-morocco-1202170575/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Knight, D. (2018) ‘Razzia review: A devastating mosaic of modern Morocco’, Eye for Film. Available at: https://www.eyeforfilm.co.uk/review/razzia-film-review-by-dawn-knight (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Lang, B. (2015) Much Loved: Nabil Ayouch interview, Variety, 6 November. Available at: https://variety.com/2015/film/global/much-loved-nabil-ayouch-morocco-1201634567/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Marchetti, V. (2020) ‘North African cinema: Social realism in Ayouch’s works’, Journal of African Cinemas, 12(1), pp. 45-62.
Touhami, M. (2019) Interview in Marrakech International Film Festival catalogue. MIMF Publications.
Westbrook, C. (2017) ‘Razzia: Review’, Empire, 20 November. Available at: https://www.empireonline.com/movies/reviews/razzia-review/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
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