‘Flesh and Fuel’ Cannes Review: A Queer Love Story on the Open Road

A road romance, a love story unfolding across a series of somewhat inhospitable settings, Flesh and Fuel centers on the relationship between two truck drivers—one French, the other Polish. Their bond develops, with complications, in gas stations, parking areas, restrooms, trucks, and anywhere they can steal a few minutes of intimacy. In this way, Le Gall’s film observes—quite realistically—that overlooked “other side” of life on the road that most people never see.

Étienne (Alexis Manenti) is constantly on the move, driving day and night along French highways as a hauler. A loner, he rarely sees his family (his sister and nephew) and has no partner. His sexual encounters are with other truckers in similar circumstances: casual, furtive meetings in known roadside spots. His life seems locked into that routine until a chance event changes everything. During a police raid, officers try to detain him alongside a Polish driver who happens to be next to him. The man—Bartosz (Julian Świeżewski)—manages to fool the police, save Étienne, and prevent both of them from facing thousands of euros in fines.

Their connection becomes evident quickly, but there’s a problem. It’s not so much the language (Bartosz speaks decent French) as it is their routes: Étienne operates strictly within France, following the assignments set by his company, while Bartosz drives international routes. Crossing paths is difficult. There are also differences in personality and those tied to Bartosz’s status as a migrant worker, yet their desire to see each other pushes them to take professional and personal risks.

In a style reminiscent of the Dardenne brothers and their working-class realism, Pierre Le Gall’s film rarely strays from highways, trucks, service stations, restrooms, and parks. Beyond the specific circumstances facing its protagonists—their diverging routes serving as a metaphor for different life trajectories—the film tells a classic romantic story, one hindered here by geography, by fear of social judgment, and by each man’s willingness (or not) to accept the reality he lives in.

Among the tensions that surface in this brief and sincere film are differences in “social standing.” Étienne earns more and has more structured schedules and routes, while his Polish counterpart often drives endless hours across multiple countries just to make the same money, putting his safety at risk. Bartosz accepts his way of life—it’s harsh, but he knows he has little choice—and folds his social life into it, whereas Étienne always seems to be running from something. That, gradually, begins to erode their relationship.

Du Fioul dans les artères doesn’t quite go beyond—nor does it seem to try to go beyond—the love story between these two unlikely companions on the road. Yet even within its simplicity, it sustains an empathetic, humanist look at the world of labor, the loneliness it entails, and the rare chances people get to glimpse something resembling the happiness of being in love.