Intimacy has a way of revealing truths about us at times when the world outside would rather have us live a lie. In Joaquín Ruano’s understated and mesmerizing feature debut Nosotros , this type of closeness is a delicate key that unlocks a bond that few truly see or understand.

Struggling to stay economically afloat on a rapidly deflating raft, Romero (Jozef Coxaj), an Indigenous man in his thirties, decides to leave his rural community in Guatemala to seek work in the big city. Unhappy that her husband has made the decision unilaterally, a move that will leave her to tend to their young child on her own, his wife gives him an ultimatum that he has six months to return back to their family or she will be gone for good.

Landing a job as an armed guard at a local mall, and living in a cramped space with other guards, Roberto tries to adapt to the performative masculinity of those around him. This includes hanging out at strip clubs, watching the football match at a local bar, and having the occasional encounter with a sex worker. While one would assume that all this machismo would result in non-stop debauchery in Ruano’s hand it all comes across as unfulfilling.

With patrons practically looking bored while staring at the scantily clad dancers in front of them, Ruano’s film makes it clear that the general malaise that comes with economic strife has washed over all aspects of society. Even business owners like Nubia (Lola Vásquez), a transgender woman who owns a cell phone shop in the mall, is feeling the pinch. Customers can no longer afford the quality iPhones she sells, opting to buy cheaper Chinese products from competitors. It is while at work that Nubia, who has a thing for Indigenous men, notices and is immediately drawn to the quiet guard.

Unaware that he is married, as Romero lies and says he is helping to support his sister and her child back home, Nubia and the guard begin to grow real feelings for each other as they move from small chats to evenings on the town together. Sharing tender moments while on a date at a local bar, and stealing glances at work, Romero starts to consider getting his own place in the city and seems ready to start a life with Nubia.

While the fog of love may cloud Romero’s eyes, the audience has a clear view of the forces that can pull him and Nubia apart at any moment. The obvious one being the fact that he is still married to a woman who loves and cares for him deeply. There is also the reality that their blooming flower of love grows within a garden of homophobic weeds. Romero’s fellow guards constantly make jokes about homosexuality that become increasingly more pointed towards him with each passing day.

Ruano’s lens frequently captures the unspoken distance that will always be between Romero and Nubia in some fashion. Whether placing his protagonist in the foreground and Nubia in the car in the background as Romero calls his wife; or sitting in the quiet romantic tension as the lovers stare at each other in the car a few scenes later, Ruano’s visual language allows the film to speak volumes in its numerous understated moments. This is especially important considering how economical the film itself is.

Rather than wade in the complicated waters of Romero’s two central relationships, Ruano gives just enough information for the audience to fill in the gaps. While some viewers will no doubt be annoyed by how quickly the film moves from one idea to the next, it never takes away from the tender romance and emotion at the film’s core. It also helps that the director elicits strong performances by his lead actors, Vásquez is in particular is sensational, that help to anchor its themes in a compelling manner.

An artfully crafted debut feature that announces Ruano as a talent to watch, Nosotros finds beauty in the love and intimacy that finds us even when we are not seeking it out.

Nosotros premiered at TIFF 2026 on September 12, and has additional screenings on September 14 and September 19.

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