The Lost Princess 2025 Parents Guide

Why The Lost Princess is NOT Rated by the Motion Picture Rating (MPA)

The Lost Princess is not rated by the Motion Picture Association (MPA) because it was independently produced and distributed without going through the MPA’s voluntary rating process. Many independent films, especially those targeting international festivals or digital platforms, opt out of MPA ratings to avoid the costs and delays associated with the process.

Review: The Lost Princess – A Hauntingly Beautiful Tale of Forbidden Love and Forgotten Legacy

In The Lost Princess, Moroccan filmmaker Hicham Hajji invites us on a visually dazzling, emotionally rich journey into the heart of Morocco’s sun-baked deserts and the lingering ghosts of a troubled past. With sweeping cinematography, passionate performances, and a deeply romantic core, the film reaches for timelessness—even as it occasionally wrestles with the limits of its runtime.

This isn’t just a movie; it’s a tapestry of generational secrets, repressed desires, and the persistent echo of love that refuses to be buried. The story may be rooted in a specific cultural and geographic setting, but its themes—love versus duty, the search for self, the cost of silence—are universal.

The film opens not with a bang, but with a dream—or rather, a vision. American billionaire Alec Touati (played by Cillian O’Sullivan) is far from home, embarking on a spiritual retreat in the Moroccan desert. He consumes Ayahuasca in hopes of finding clarity, peace, or perhaps something more profound. What he gets is a vivid, almost otherworldly vision: a flash of swords, a haunted castle, and a storm of emotions he doesn’t yet understand.

This moment sets the tone for the rest of the film—dreamlike, mysterious, and loaded with metaphor. Alec’s vision leads him, quite literally, to an ancient Moroccan castle perched in a forgotten corner of the landscape. There, he meets Hanna (Melodie Casta), a local woman who seems as tied to the place as the crumbling stones and windblown corridors.

Their encounter is more than coincidence. Hanna holds the key to a love story long buried, one that unfolded within those very walls generations ago. Through Hanna’s recollections, we’re transported back in time to meet her mother, Princess Nour (Soraya Azzabi), a woman caught between duty and desire in a rigid, patriarchal world.

A Love That Refused to Die

Princess Nour’s life was never truly hers. Promised to a Saudi prince through an arranged marriage, her fate was sealed by family alliances and the politics of power. But when she meets the castle’s caretaker—a brooding, soulful pianist played by Gary Dourdan—her world shifts. Their connection is immediate and electric, filled with both tenderness and danger.

The chemistry between Azzabi and Dourdan is palpable. He, the quiet artist with a wounded past; she, the royal woman longing for freedom. Their stolen moments together are among the film’s most powerful—filled with whispered confessions, desperate glances, and the ever-present fear of discovery. When Nour becomes pregnant, the romance takes a perilous turn. What was once a beautiful secret now threatens to destroy everything.

Through Alec’s eyes, we relive their tragic love story piece by piece, like uncovering an ancient tapestry long hidden in dust. And slowly, it becomes clear that Alec’s presence in the castle is no accident. The threads of this story aren’t just historical—they are deeply personal.

If there’s one thing The Lost Princess achieves flawlessly, it’s visual splendor. Hicham Hajji, with a background in high-end commercial filmmaking, brings an unflinching attention to detail and style. The film looks breathtaking from the very first frame to the last.

Cinematographer Ayoub Lamrani captures the Moroccan landscape with painterly precision. The golden sands, the stark blue skies, the weathered textures of the castle walls—all are treated with reverence. This is a film that understands the power of setting, using it not just as background but as a character in itself.

Even more impressive is how the film manages to feel grand despite its modest budget. Outdoor shots are sweeping and cinematic, while the interiors are rich with atmosphere, drenched in light and shadow. The production design and lighting work in tandem to evoke a sense of nostalgia, as though the castle itself remembers everything that happened within its walls.

The performances are another standout element. Cillian O’Sullivan brings a quiet, contemplative energy to Alec. He’s not your typical billionaire—he’s searching for something deeper, something spiritual. O’Sullivan avoids the clichés and instead gives us a man haunted by questions he can’t quite put into words.

Gary Dourdan is magnetic as the pianist-caretaker, seamlessly shifting between past and present, music and memory. His scenes with Princess Nour are rich with longing and pain, and his performance lingers long after the credits roll.

Melodie Casta’s Hanna acts as the emotional bridge between timelines. She carries the weight of her mother’s story while trying to help Alec piece together his own. Soraya Azzabi, as Nour, brings regal presence and aching vulnerability. Her journey—from compliance to rebellion, from silence to love—is the emotional spine of the film.

Yet for all its beauty and ambition, The Lost Princess is not without flaws. The film tries to do a great deal in just 95 minutes—perhaps too much. The love story between Nour and the pianist, though compelling, occasionally feels rushed. We’re told of their passion more than we’re allowed to feel it unfold naturally. Some key emotional beats, especially those involving Alec’s connection to the past, are underexplored.

There’s also a sense that the film is building toward a grand revelation that never fully lands. The spiritual elements—visions, reincarnation, inherited trauma—are intriguing but not deeply developed. We get hints rather than clarity, mystery rather than meaning. A longer runtime might have helped flesh out these themes, allowing the film to breathe and dig deeper.

As someone familiar with Indian cinema, I couldn’t help but imagine this story as a full-blown romantic epic—perhaps two and a half hours, complete with musical interludes, elaborate set pieces, and time to let every emotion simmer. There’s so much richness in this narrative that a more expansive format could have transformed it into something truly unforgettable.

Final Thoughts:

Despite its narrative constraints, The Lost Princess remains a moving and gorgeously crafted film. It’s a testament to what can be achieved when visual ambition meets heartfelt storytelling. Hajji has created something rare: a romantic drama with genuine atmosphere, cultural specificity, and a sense of timeless sorrow.

It’s a film that asks: What happens when love challenges the rules of tradition? What do we owe the past—and what can we reclaim from it?

The Lost Princess may not answer every question it raises, but it offers enough beauty, emotion, and mystery to make the journey worthwhile.