Despite playing the lead in a major blockbuster, The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes, Tom Blyth has not received a proper chance to showcase his formidable acting talents. After Plainclothes, that will no longer be the case. Blyth’s tortured, lived-in portrayal of an undercover police officer struggling with his sexuality is the bedrock of Carmen Emmi’s directorial debut. Plainclothes is a meticulous affair, where all of its 95-minute runtime is thoroughly used to conjure the suffocating feeling of having to keep yourself hidden. In that way, Plainclothes is a thriller of emotion.
1997, New York. Lucas (Tom Blyth) is a young cop who specializes in entrapping and arresting gay men. His daily work routine sees him dressing in civilian clothing and baiting men flirting with him into exposing themselves in a busy shopping mall restroom, only to then have them arrested for public indecency. Lucas keeps his composure cool, or so the department thinks. But that mask is slipping. His gaze to lure these men becomes more lustful until his attempt to arrest the older Andrew (Russell Tovey) has Lucas giving into his closeted desires. The two then begin a trust that brings Lucas’ internal battle over living truthfully vs. keeping up the facade for his own comfort to a head.
Plainclothes has a clarity of vision that is uncommon for directorial debuts. Carmen Emmi choosing to set his film in 1997 is no coincidence. The setting leads to well-considered needle drops like O.M.C.’s “How Bizarre” that indicate the time period, while composer Emily Wells’ pensive score and original songs create an oppressive atmosphere. Aside from its vague inspiration from unspecified real events, that period of time was much less accepting of homosexuality, one where it’s not unbelievable that unethical police operations like these were specifically run with the unspoken goal of throwing LGBTQ+ citizens in jail.
The environment of Plainclothes is almost dystopian, bolstered by cinematographer Ethan Palmer’s decision to frequently shift into lo-fi VHS footage. More than a gimmick, this strong aesthetic choice is a signifier that Lucas is being watched. Or worse, the VHS footage feeds into his constant paranoia of being judged, with each one of his small movements being carefully scrutinized. A key moment at the midway point of the story literalizes the VHS surveillance, with Lucas drowning in fear upon being shown camera equipment in a men’s restroom as part of a new police strategy he must participate in to arrest gay men.
The barely disguised disgust on Tom Blyth’s face communicates the feeling of being studied like an invasive species, realizing that if others knew of his authentic self, he could be on the other side of the glass, made into a monster by the establishment in the same way he’s been complicit in. By all means, consider Plainclothes the first true testament to Blyth’s acting range. The majority of his emotional journey happens wordlessly. In choosing to visualize his emotions to the viewer rather than telling them, Blyth avoids the simple reading of a self-hating gay man. Fear is what drives Lucas, not just the fear that he will get caught but also the overwhelming fear of embracing his sexual discovery.
Tom Blyth is so tightly wound, a sea of conflict raging behind those piercing blue eyes, that when he finally gives into his yearning, it’s explosive. He’s overflowed with joy, going to a primal place that feels like an exorcism of the constraints placed on him by the world and himself. This paves the way for his counterpoint, Andrew (Russel Tovey). Andrew is incredibly gentle, acting like a loving mentor in Lucas’ sexual exploration. Yet, he’s got a conflict of his own, having convinced himself that he’s comfortable with sneaking around and meeting other gay men in secret. However, the young courage seen in Lucas could be what finally inspires Andrew to leave his life of secrecy behind.
Courtesy of Sundance
Russell Tovey (BBC’s Being Human, Doctor Who’s The War Between The Land And The Sea) presents an older gay man whose intentions are led by kindness. It’s encouraging and important even to have this kind of character who shows the accrued wisdom, as well as the tragedy, of a long life lived in the shadows. Lucas and Andrew are in a place of reckless respite for each other. Writer-director Carmen Emmi does not shy away from the explicit nature of their intimacy. That being said, their love scenes are hardly graphic and are shown in a passionate, joyous manner. These are simply two adults engaging in a natural display of affection, and Plainclothes frames their romance with pure sincerity.
What makes Plainclothes stand out further is its subtlety. Carmen Emmi’s script isn’t a didactic work meant to spell out exactly what the audience is supposed to feel. Instead of coming off as a lecture, Plainclothes is an honest reckoning with the experience of denying oneself and the slow but necessary process of stepping out into the light. By that trade, Emmi’s film recalls Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow in the urgency of living authentically, although in a very different way.
While I Saw the TV Glow goes for dread, Plainclothes has the mounting tension of a David Fincher film, where it’s a tug-of-war over whether or not Lucas can accept the reality of his sexuality. This is framed and compounded by a narrative device where Plainclothes will flash forward to a New Year’s Eve party at some point set in the future, where Lucas is confronted by immense pressure from his family that slowly begins to engulf him in anxiety. Naturally, this builds up to a conclusion that will leave viewers with nothing to do but deeply exhale. This final moment underlines the thesis of Plainclothes beautifully, with there being nothing left unsaid.
One aspect of Plainclothes that will undoubtedly inspire discussion is the presence of the police in the plot. Let’s get this out of the way: No, Plainclothes does not glorify law enforcement. Returning back to the comparison made to the dystopian sub-genre, the police are framed as a vicious method of control, their prying eyes everywhere. Likewise, the police force can be seen as a stand-in for patriarchal oppression, snuffing out anyone who doesn’t fit their vision of polite society. This notion is further expanded upon by the reveal of what Andrew does in his true life during the day, which comes with a unique set of pressures that have kept him living a compromised version of himself.
Plainclothes is mastery of the form. Drawing on a visual language all of its own, Tom Blyth’s powerhouse performance takes audiences directly into a troubled heart. Filmmaker Carmen Emmi explores the paranoia of stripping back the layers of oneself and revealing what’s underneath. Not a moment is wasted. Plainclothes perfectly conveys the complications of completely uprooting who you thought you were, with the yearning of a romantic drama and the pulse-pounding tension of a thriller.
Plainclothes premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival!
Release Date: TBD.
Directed by Carmen Emmi.
Written by Carmen Emmi.
Produced by Arthur Landon, Colby Cote, Eric Podwall, & Vanessa Pantley.
Main Cast: Tom Blyth, Russell Tovey, Amy Forsyth, Christian Cooke, Maria Dizzia, John Bedford Lloyd, Gabe Fazio, & Sam Asa Brownstein.
Cinematographer: Ethan Palmer.
Composer: Emily Wells.
Production Companies: Page 1 Entertainment, Lorton Entertainment, Mini Productions, & Podwall Entertainment.
Distributor: TBD.
Runtime: 95 minutes.
