“Flesh and Fuel uses its observation of reality to gradually and relentlessly expose how drivers like Étienne and Bartosz become mere extensions of their trucks.”

Almost everything you need to know about Flesh and Fuel is contained in the words of its title. The first feature film by Pierre Le Gall, which premieres in Cannes as a Critics’ Week special screening, is set in the world of truckers, spending – and consuming – their lives driving all over France and Europe. What little free time and mental and physical energy the characters have left is spent in fleeting sexual encounters with strangers, inside or just outside their trucks. This emotionless routine of fuel and flesh, turning them into ghosts, is cleverly disrupted at the same time it is established by the film. One of these physical and mute moments instigated by the main character, Étienne (Alexis Manenti), gets interrupted twice by the cops, which leads Étienne and his anonymous lover for a few minutes (played by Julian Świeżewski) to retreat together into the latter’s truck cab, where they are forced to interact in other ways than sex in the shadows. They have to look at each other, talk to each other, exchange names (the other man’s is Bartosz) – become human beings beyond human bodies, and in the process become even more attracted to one another.

Therefore, now it is flesh, fuel, and a burgeoning romance between the two men. A new road opens for the film as well, diverging from the one we now have come to expect from French cinema – a neorealist depiction of oppressive labor conditions, and a visually and narratively explicit take on sex. This other path is the one of melodrama, where obstacles pile up against the characters being together, whether they are caused by fate (for example when they set up a time and place for their next meeting, only for one of them to stop at the rest area on the wrong side of the highway) or society. When it comes to the latter, it does not occur as a consequence of homophobia; on the contrary, the film lays out its strong belief in a more tolerant and open-minded environment, as a number of sweet, genuine scenes show Étienne and Bartosz surrounded by caring people for whom their sexual attraction is no issue at all. The constraints weighing on the two lovers are not of a societal nature but of a purely economic one.

Think Heated Rivalry, but with people less young, rich and famous. Nevertheless, Étienne and Bartosz face similar hardships as Shane and Ilya do – in both their lines of work, the capitalist system demands an almost uninterrupted flow of either goods or performance, meaning the individuals actually doing the job are allowed only crumbs of free time, which makes it difficult to go beyond superficial encounters and to build something more meaningful. One order after another, and one long and exhausting journey after another, Flesh and Fuel uses its observation of reality to gradually and relentlessly expose how drivers like Étienne and Bartosz become mere extensions of their trucks, and moreover of the whole delivery business. The slow burn wound caused by this dehumanization is nearly lethal on an emotional level, all the more so as its invisible consequences are not felt until it might be too late. Therefore, not just one but two leaps of faith are required to possibly be happy together: first, dare to declare their love and even then, dare to take a step aside from the constant pressure, tracking and surveillance of capitalism. Only then is it possible to make way for love, not just as a sweet aspiration but as a day-to-day reality. Pierre Le Gall tenderly accompanies them on this journey, by taking the opposite stance to the soullessness of the economic system and treating his lead and supporting characters all together in the most humane and sensitive way.