Coward, screening at BFI London Film Festival, never shies away from the abject terror of war, but also acknowledges that, for many, war removed rigid social expectations and allowed intimate connections their normal lives could never accommodate. Achingly beautiful and deeply intimate, this is Lukas Dhont’s best film to date.
Even amid brutality and pain, love finds a way in Lukas Dhont’s exquisite, tender tale of love outside the trenches of the First World War, Coward. Following his Oscar-nominated, intimate film Close in 2022, Coward is undoubtedly Dhont’s most beautiful and best film to date, exploring an undefeatable love in a fractured, violent world through intimacy, power, and beauty that should earn it more than a few award-season nominations.
War has been raging across Europe for several years as we join a troupe of new, fresh-faced conscripts making their journey to the bloody front lines of a horrific war none of them is ready to face. Unaware of the horror awaiting them, these young men sing, their banter cutting through the tension of the unknown, with youthful confidence their crutch as they make a journey that, for many, will be their last. Among these recruits is the shy farm worker Pierre (Emmanuel Macchia), who, while singing in unison with his new friends, remains quiet, reserved, and uncertain about what lies ahead.
The year is 1916, and on the Western Front the bodies of Belgian boys are stacked high in unmarked graves, something Pierre and his fellow soldiers are about to discover as they are given the job of retrieving the dead before progressing to the front line themselves. It’s the job of the ‘rejects’, a theatrical group led by Francis (Valentin Campagne) to keep morale high as blood covers the nearby fields.
Theatrical troupes of men, often those injured or those deemed unable to fight, played an essential role in the First World War that has often been overlooked and dismissed on screen. These small amateur ensembles led makeshift concerts, parties, and plays to raise morale. In an environment devoid of women, male soldiers impersonated women to lighten the mood, giving their fellow soldiers a fantastical, often comedic yet urgent taste of life beyond the front lines.
Francis is a tailor in civilian life, and he understands the power of the role he has been given and the importance of stitching together humour, dance, and music in fields awash with the blood of young men. Pierre is intrigued by his passion for crafting moments of pure escapism and joy amid the horror, and by his refusal to adopt the expected male behaviours around him.
Francis defies the alpha-male stereotypes so many soldiers feel they must adopt to survive. He glides through the camp, his presence lifting the atmosphere, as he encourages the men to sing with all their hearts, dance, and laugh. For Pierre, who has never allowed himself to embrace the sexuality he has kept firmly hidden, Francis is far more than an entertainer; he is a light in the darkness, and a love he isn’t sure he should embrace. At the same time, for Francis, Pierre is an irresistible but uncertain attraction- one that could bring his downfall if he were wrong about his feelings. For both, a nervous kiss is about to open doors they have kept closed for so long.
As their bond grows, a love develops that neither could have had in the civilian world outside of the horrors of war, and one Francis knows will eventually end, even if Pierre is far more certain of its longevity.
Dhont’s patience in slowly letting Pierre and Francis’s attraction and love grow is achingly beautiful, as both men search the other’s feelings and intentions through stolen glances, coy, nervous smiles, and light physical touch that sparks with the electricity of attraction.
Every scene is immaculately crafted, as Coward blooms into a lavish love story amid the brutality of a war that stripped the world of millions of young men. The sparks between Macchia and Campagne feel real and raw as their love grows in performances that are passionate, tender, and hypnotic in their intensity. Dhont and his longtime cinematographer, Frank van den Eeden, further enhance this intimacy through tight framing that bathes the audience in golden autumnal hues, broken only by the abject darkness of the true horror surrounding our young lovers.
While Coward never shies away from the terror of war, it also acknowledges that, for many, war removed rigid social expectations and allowed intimate connections their normal lives could never accommodate. Could Pierre and Francis’s love survive the end of war? It’s a question both ask, as they consider desertion, an act that comes with a death sentence, and a label of ‘coward’ that would attach itself to their names long after their deaths. Here, the cracks in their love and commitment begin to show: one believes there is no future for them beyond the trenches and the troupe, while the other is willing to fight for a love they cannot walk away from, no matter the risks.
Achingly beautiful and deeply intimate, Coward is a film bathed in the sublime performances of its leads, striking visuals, and a sublime score that dovetails historical songs with Valentin Hadjadj’s sweeping orchestral arrangements. It is one of the most beautiful films of the year, and if there is any justice, Dhont, his creative team, and Macchia and Campagne will receive the award-season recognition they so rightly deserve.
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