Lahcen Zaimouzen

Hounds (2023) is wild, gritty, and honestly, it doesn’t really care if you’re comfortable. Lahcen Zaimouzen jumps right into the chaos, dragging you through the twisted backstreets of a city that just never sleeps—well, not peacefully, anyway. We're talking about a world where trust is a currency and most folks are flat broke, you know? The energy’s tense from the first scene, with Zaimouzen’s character getting tossed into a mess of old rivalries, sketchy deals, and that relentless hunt for—well, something better, even if nobody’s entirely sure what that is. You get these moments where things slow down, but don’t get too cozy. There’s this raw, pulsing undercurrent—danger, desperation, maybe just a hint of hope if you squint. The characters, they’re real people, deeply flawed, often angry, sometimes hilarious, but never boring. Zaimouzen’s performance is sharp as hell; he doesn’t so much act as inhabit the role, letting all those jagged edges show. There’s not a lot of neat resolutions or comforting answers here. The film’s all grit and sweat and hard choices, the kind that stick with you after the credits roll. Backgrounds are dim, conversations are clipped, and the violence? It’s quick, brutal, and never for show. Hounds chews up the idea of the underdog story and spits it out—darker, meaner, weirder. If you’re looking for a happy ending, look elsewhere. But if you want a ride that leaves you rattled, this one’s got bite.