You know when you’re scrolling through movie options, and you stumble upon something you’ve never heard of, and it just… calls to you? That was me the other night, falling down a rabbit hole of obscure 70s cinema, and I surfaced with a real gem: “We Were One Man” (original title: “Nous étions un seul homme”)
Quick Info:
- Title: We Were One Man
- Year: 1979
- Directed by: Philippe Vallois
- Starring: Serge Avedikian, Piotr Stanislas, and
Catherine Albin - Language: French
- Where I Watched It: On Dekkoo (streaming service for Gay Men – but I believe you can rent it elsewhere)
Queer-o-Meter:
🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈 (4 out of 5 Pride Flags)
Rated on how gay it feels — characters, themes, vibes, and quiet longing in a war-torn farmhouse. This one? Gay in that “lonely French countryside, two men find something unexpected” sort of way.
One-Line Summary:
A wounded German soldier and a lonely French farmer hide out together during WWII and end up discovering that intimacy doesn’t care about national borders—or gender.
Standout Scene:
There’s a scene where Rolf tries to leave, and Guy’s reaction is just this raw explosion of emotion – it’s not about politics or war, it’s about not wanting to lose this person he’s become attached to.
Would I Rewatch?
- Maybe… with wine
Review:
So, picture this: it’s 1943, deep in the French countryside during World War II.We meet Guy, a French peasant who’s a bit of a simpleton, living a solitary life. He’s got a girlfriend in the local village, but you can tell he’s not entirely connected to the world around him. One day, he finds a wounded German soldier named Rolf in the woods and decides to take him back to his cottage to nurse him back to health.
Now, this is where things get interesting. What starts as a simple act of humanity slowly blossoms into something much more complex. As Rolf recovers, a playful and then deeply bonded friendship forms between these two men who are supposed to be enemies. It’s a classic enemies-to-lovers trope, but with a raw, gritty, and sometimes startlingly funny edge that you don’t often see.
Okay, so this movie is the definition of “slow burn.” Like, actual slow burn, not “we held hands once and now it’s enemies-to-lovers in 45 minutes.” The pacing is meditative, quiet, even awkward—just two men in a farmhouse trying to make sense of each other and the war outside. Philippe Vallois keeps the camera close, so we’re never really allowed to look away from their faces, their hesitation, the moments that slip from curiosity into desire.
Piotr Stanislas as Rolf is fascinating—this young German deserter who’s both vulnerable and unreadable. You can’t quite tell what’s going on in his head, which makes him feel both dangerous and fragile. He’s the “enemy,” but he’s also just a young man caught up in a conflict he may not fully believe in. Through his interactions with Guy, you see his hardened soldier exterior start to crack, revealing a vulnerability that is really touching to watch.
Meanwhile, Guy, played by Serge Avedikian, is an isolated farmer who is a bit of a simpleton and who seems starved for both affection and purpose. He does a fantastic job of portraying a character who is both naive and emotionally intense.
There’s something incredibly tender about Guy and Rolf’s relationship unfolds—hesitant, wordless, and rooted in simple acts of care. Feeding each other, shaving, sleeping in the same room. It’s all so ordinary, which makes it all the more intimate.
The chemistry between Avedikian and Stanislas is what really carries the film. Their relationship develops through a series of shared experiences, from playful wrestling matches to quiet moments of understanding.
The film doesn’t shy away from the physical and emotional intimacy that develops between Guy and Rolf. It’s handled in a way that feels very natural and, for a film from 1979, remarkably progressive. It’s not just about the forbidden nature of their relationship because of the war, but also about the then-taboo subject of a same-sex romance. The movie treats their growing love for each other with a matter-of-factness that is pretty refreshing.
The film doesn’t make grand statements about sexuality—it’s not about being gay in a modern identity-politics sense. It’s more about connection in a world that’s falling apart. Two men finding warmth in each other when everything else is cold and uncertain. But that simplicity gives it power. It’s what I imagine would happen if Brokeback Mountain were directed by someone who’d spent too long in an existential fog in rural France.
I have to say, the tone of this movie is all over the place, in the best possible way. One minute it feels like a rustic romance, the next it’s a surreal comedy, and then it veers into thriller territory.
Visually, it’s rough around the edges—shot in grainy color (colorized?) that feels both claustrophobic and oddly timeless. It’s not polished, but that’s part of its charm. The silence, the long takes, the stillness—it all feels like we’re intruding on something deeply private. There are scenes that linger so long you start feeling self-conscious watching them… and then you realize that’s the point.
Now, fair warning: it’s definitely not for everyone. The pacing can test your patience. Some scenes feel like they were improvised from notes on the back of a cigarette pack. And yet, there’s this raw honesty running through it all—like Vallois was trying to capture a kind of unspoken, forbidden tenderness the world wasn’t ready to name yet.
Final Thoughts:
This film feels like a secret whispered between two men who know it can’t last. It’s tender, haunting, and occasionally frustrating—but in that very human way. I found myself thinking about it for days afterward, especially that last stretch where everything feels both inevitable and tragic.
A warning: this isn’t some happy-ever-after situation. The war exists. It intrudes. Other Resistance members show up at one point, and the tension ratchets up immediately. Will they discover Rolf? Will Guy have to choose between his lover and his cause? I won’t spoil it, but the final act gutted me. Just absolutely destroyed me on my couch at 1 AM.
The ending is both devastating and somehow perfect. It doesn’t wrap things up neatly. Real life doesn’t work that way, and war definitely doesn’t. What stays with you is the memory of those weeks in the cabin—proof that connection can exist even in the worst circumstances.
The Cinema Club Verdict:
⭐⭐⭐⭐
4 out of 5 Pride Flags. Docking one flag for glacial pacing and occasional pretentiousness, but giving major points for emotional honesty and that quiet, haunting chemistry.
If you’ve seen We Were One Man—or have another queer war-era film I need to add to my queue—let me know in the comments or yell at me on BlueSky.