Written by Laura Irene. Photographs by Miha Palancha.
“I don’t want to dance on the dead anymore,” Pierre whispers to his fellow soldier, Francis, in the dusty shadows of World War I.
Francis argues that the wounded need uplifting and that the war provides them all with escape. Pierre remains unconvinced. This conflict between the two lovers exists at the heart of the upcoming 2026 film, “Coward.” Starring Emmanuel Macchia and Valentin Campagne, the film explores masculinity, patriotism, and escape in a queer love story set against the backdrop of the first World War.
Pierre and Francis meet while training in the French army, but assume opposing roles shortly thereafter. Pierre trains for the front lines: loading weapons, retrieving the dead and wounded, serving the prisoners. While Francis and his “Band of Rejects”start a performance troupe. They often dress up as women to play in over-the-top skits or perform a magical sort of propaganda to boost soldier morale. As Francis and Pierre begin to fall in love, the latter risks stepping away from the violence of war as the two discover what it means to serve your country, and when the presence of distractions are a sign of hope.
This film’s standout feature was its acting. While it is by any means (in fact, the sound design was another strength) it seldom reliant on dialogue exclusively. A scene that especially stood out was one in which Pierre is recruited for the “Band of Rejects,” and his fellow soldier is holding his face, yelling at him. Macchia, playing Pierre, barely utters a word, but the subtle physicality in his twitching jaw — especially around words like “coward,” — betrayed his emotions. Macchia, Campagne, and the cast may have audiences feeling as though they could never “be in war,” one minute, and then the next they’re performing a fight song that would encourage anyone to rally behind their cause. Not because of the dialogue, but the acting, and the energy the cast provided.
“Coward” is technically beautiful, with strong cinematography, color grading, and sound, but as with most war films, they are often about what the film is saying, rather than how it was being said. The film was especially unique because of its portrayal of masculinity. Many scenes echoed the testosterone coursing through the soldiers into the theater — there was yelling, screaming, urinating where it wasn’t allowed. There were fights, mean-spirited jests, blood, and unnecessary risks, all the signs of a soldier full of gusto.
Yet those scenes were juxtaposed with a different take on masculinity, where men were singing, performing, dressing as girls, and those men were also seen as serving France. This duality within a theme was also portrayed in the discussion of patriotism in the film. Was it patriotic to be singing over suicidal soldiers? Did this strategy of simply increasing moral uplift help the French win? Is this band of rejects less than soldiers? The audience is invited to answer these questions, alongside Pierre and Francis. Because, at the end of the day, these boys are still young and discovering their own answers as well.
“Coward” couldn’t be a better name for the film. Countless times throughout the movie, characters will refer to each other as “cowards”: when Pierre joins the “Band of Rejects,” when a fellow soldier attempts to run, when Pierre is injured. Yet, the filmmakers proved to be the antithesis of cowardice. This brave exploration of prevalent modern nuances — and daring to do so with a queer lens — deserves to be heard.
