Plainclothes is a riveting, bold, and assured directorial debut that covers topics that are sadly far from being a footnote in history for so many gay men worldwide. Plainclothes had its UK premiere at SXSW London and will be released in cinemas nationwide by Curzon later this year.
For many young gay men, the world of cruising and cottaging will be an alien concept; after all, young gay men now take to apps to fulfil their sexual desires, swiping through endless photos of torsos in the hope of arranging a ‘meet.’ However, for my generation, there were no apps in our younger years, and no other option than to develop our cruising abilities in finding men, especially if you grew up in a small town where gay nightlife was pretty much non-existent and pride festivals were unheard of. As teenagers, our generation honed our ability to eye people up in public spaces, never quite knowing whether our glances would be reciprocated or lead to danger.
There were safe cruising spaces, libraries, shops and swimming pools; then there were more risky spaces, such as well-known public toilets and parks, where your heart rate would increase, knowing that the police also frequented those locations looking to catch gay men in the act. Right up to the millennium, cruising was the only option for many gay men, and Carmen Emmi’s finely crafted and stunningly performed directorial debut, Plainclothes, captures the fear, risk, confusion and uneasy excitement of those clandestine encounters in exquisite detail.
For twenty-something undercover police officer Lucas (Tom Blyth), the art of entrapping gay men in public restrooms initially appears to come easily. He is the bait —a young, fit, attractive guy who waits patiently outside a shopping mall toilet, looking for men who may be using the space as a potential meeting spot.
Lucas enters the toilets and makes eye contact with men who may be seeking the thrill of a sexual encounter in the stalls, quietly and confidently providing signals that he is also looking for fun; as he catches someone’s eye, he signals them to move into a cubicle where his only job is to ensure the man exposes himself, before changing his mind and walking out, with his colleague, sitting at a nearby table, waiting for his signal before making the arrest.
There’s no emotion, no feeling for the men he entraps, and certainly no interaction beyond what Lucas is assigned to do. Yet, internally, Lucas is battling his own feelings and emotions, and those feelings are about to overflow when he encounters Andrew (Russell Tovey). As he goes through the playbook in entrapping Andrew, Lucas is overwhelmed by a desire to take things further, only stopping when he realises his own career is in jeopardy. But even that risk doesn’t stop him from taking Andrew’s number as he leaves.
However, with his home life built on his straight police officer image, an ailing father and a mum (Maria Dizzia), he doesn’t want to let down; Lucas is trapped, his sexuality a secret he can’t and won’t explore in fear that it may consume him. However, even though the risks are high, Andrew’s number calls to him, and it’s not long before Lucas has arranged a second meeting in a local cinema, his heart pumping and adrenaline flowing as he opts to explore the part of himself he has kept locked away for so long.
Emmi skillfully splices VHS footage into scenes, capturing not only the timestamp of the drama (1997) but the deep internal sense of fear, excitement and shame that accompanied visits to a well-known cruising spot. These skillfully spliced sections reflect the fragmented thoughts of Lucas, from the confusion to the excitement and fear, while also sparking the memories of all of us who remember those clandestine encounters in vivid detail – the fear of being caught, the excitement and rush of first eye contact, the risk of the encounter and the sense of shame that would often sweep over you. However, the central performances of Tovey and Blyth make this directorial debut stand out. Both men are hiding in the shadows of the lives they have constructed to shield themselves from any speculation regarding their sexual orientation, and they excel in portraying the fractures this creates in the individual.
For many gay men during the 80s and 90s, life was a necessary dance of deceit, as they created two versions of themselves, one hidden from public view and the other a perfect cover that nobody would question. From doctors to teachers, police officers and reverends, two lives sat side by side, each vying for supremacy over the other. Tovey and Blyth’s performances reflect this ocean of internal conflict and the fear of being consumed by it through understated performances that centre on genuine feelings and emotions, never falling into melodrama. Their sexual connection is grounded in reality, as are the fears of that sexual connection turning into inescapable feelings of love, creating a sense of sorrow as their passionate and gentle love affair faces the reality of their situations.
Carmen Emmi’s brilliant screenplay and natural direction seek to uncover the truth of the ’90s experience in exploring Lucas and Andrew’s connection and the waves their bond creates, particularly for Lucas. The mounting tension is palpable as two worlds collide, but this tension is coupled with moments of exquisite tenderness as Lucas and Andrew discover each other in the safety of each other’s arms. However, maintaining two lives is challenging even for the most skilled, and eventually, the choice between hiding and being free has to be made.
Carmen Emmi may have been a boy in the year his debut feature is set, but he has captured the shame, fear and heat of the gay connections and double lives so many gay men led during that time in exquisite detail. Plainclothes is a riveting, bold, and assured directorial debut that covers topics that are sadly far from being a footnote in history for so many gay men worldwide.
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