King Saud is the rarest of pure indie films in that it’s written by, directed by, and stars Mark Toma. In a retro L.A. Noir style, LAPD detective Wolfe (Toma) is assigned a case to investigate the gruesome murder of a Saudi prince in which the man and his expensive prostitute are shot and beheaded. The film opens on this murder, and the gore splashes elaborately as the scene unfolds and drains out onto the screen.
Wolfe is an old-school, hard-boiled cop. His partner on the case is Lynch (Kate Orsini), an attractive, outspoken woman who isn’t interested in taking crap from suspects or from Wolfe. Sparks fly as they go to the crime scene to question witnesses and other members of the house staff. Their primary contact is the lead house man, Al Mahir (Micheal Saad), who is unctuous, cagey, and gives convoluted answers that make many references to the differences between the Islamic cultures and the U.S. He reminds us of Sydney Greenstreet playing Ferrari in Casablanca. Al Mahir seems to be obsessed alternately with Western women, and the notion of homosexuality, referring often to men violating other men as a form of control or punishment.
Wolfe then moves the inquiry to the brothel that sent the sex worker killed in the attack. There’s a hint that the madam who runs the house, Carlucci (Rachel Alig), may know Wolfe, but whether as a cop or a customer is unclear. What is clear is that they have nothing but contempt for each other.  As events proceed, Wolfe begins to understand that he may be an unwitting part of an internal affairs sting meant to address corruption in his unit. He’s not a clean cop himself and has no compunction about breaking the rules when it suits him, but he’s not at the level of the political and financial shenanigans in question.

“…LAPD detective is assigned a case to investigate the gruesome murder of a Saudi prince…”
It quickly becomes obvious that Wolfe can neither trust nor be trusted by anyone around him. There are no Paladin heroes in this story. As Wolfe and Lynch navigate the dangers of upsetting the balance of power between the cops and the Saudis while keeping in mind that internal affairs are watching and always being jerked around by sleazy Al Mahir, the viewer is kept guessing who will win and who will die.
King Saud is a pastiche of styles cribbed from West Coast Noir films. There are influences from To Live and Die in L.A., L.A. Confidential, Chinatown, and even as far back as The Maltese Falcon, to name just a few. To be clear, Toma is no Bogart, and the tone of the film strains to keep the style flowing. Interstitial moments of smooth, distant, muted trumpet notes remind the viewer, in a rather clumsy way, what the vibe is meant to be.