Jacques Doillon's Raja is a wonderfully rich, character-driven drama that also offers an astute and realistic portrait of the post-colonial world. The film is full of vivid supporting performances, particularly Zineb Ouchita and Oum El Aid Alt Youss as Fred's (Pascal Greggory) amusingly possessive cooks and Ilham Abdelwahed as Raja's (Najat Benssallem) caring and levelheaded cousin Nadira. But the whole film hinges on the magnificently complex performances of Greggory and Benssallem and their roller coaster relationship. Benssallem is a marvel in naturalistic mode, beautifully conveying the emotional turmoil that a rich old Frenchman's attention arouses in a prematurely cynical young Moroccan woman, while Greggory is more actorly in a splendidly witty turn as the Frenchman, whose world-weariness can't quite cover up for the fact that he doesn't understand the first thing about Raja's inner life. Fred's genuine anguish over the situation into which he gets himself and Raja's embattled mixture of ambivalence and vulnerability help the film transcend any simplistic notions about oppressor and oppressed. These are, first and foremost, two sympathetic and believable human beings caught in a whirlpool of outside forces. Doillon's clear eye extends to the film's visuals. Raja is erotic, funny, surprising, tender, brutal, and assiduously humanistic in its treatment of this potentially sensational material.