Some films haunt you. Others hug you. Plainclothes manages to do both. Carmen Emmi’s latest feature peels back the suffocating repression of 1990s Britain with a story that’s quietly devastating and unexpectedly tender. At its core, it follows Lucas, a young, closeted undercover cop, as he’s tasked with entrapping gay men in public spaces. A pretty bleak job description, right? Enter Tom Blyth, who plays Lucas with such raw vulnerability that you can almost feel the weight of every suppressed thought and every fearful glance.
But Lucas isn’t just in crisis because of his job. No, things get far more complicated when he meets Andrew (Russell Tovey). Tovey, always brilliant at conveying deep wells of pain beneath that warm exterior, is the heart of this film. What starts as a dangerous cat-and-mouse situation subtly transforms into something fragile, intimate, and achingly real. Lucas is torn, spiralling between duty and desire, while Andrew’s presence becomes both a lifeline and a mirror to everything Lucas can’t yet face about himself.
Blyth and Tovey have an electric chemistry that’s impossible to ignore. You’ll find yourself holding your breath during their scenes, where so much is said without words. It’s the kind of performance pairing that sticks with you, like an emotional bruise – painful, but also beautiful in a way you can’t quite explain.
A quiet and devastating tale of Queer shame in the 90s, Plainclothes stitches together a tapestry of fear, longing, and fleeting hope
Visually, the film has a retro edge, leaning into lo-fi, VHS-style sequences that evoke both nostalgia and dread. It’s a clever touch that enhances the constant surveillance vibe – every scene is charged with the feeling that someone’s watching, even when no one’s there. Carmen Emmi’s direction is equally thoughtful; it lets the story breathe without dragging. The sound design is another triumph, using silences and subtle auditory cues to make you feel like you’re trapped in Lucas’s paranoid mind.
The film doesn’t wallow in trauma, though. Instead, it gives us moments of connection – brief, tender moments that remind us of the humanity beneath the pain. Lucas isn’t just a symbol of Queer oppression; he’s a man caught in a system designed to erase him. And through this journey, the film asks important questions about identity and survival that feel as relevant today as ever.
The supporting cast fills out this world beautifully, never overshadowing the central relationship but giving it the depth it needs. And while I won’t spoil anything, the final moments hit with an emotional force that’s hard to shake. It’s one of those endings that feels quietly monumental, like an unspoken truth finally being seen.
Final Thoughts ★★★★★
Would I recommend Plainclothes? Without hesitation. It’s an evocative, heartfelt portrait of Queer resilience that resonates far beyond its 90s setting. Blyth and Tovey are phenomenal, and Carmen Emmi has crafted a film that’s equal parts historical document and emotional gut-punch. Five stars, and maybe a standing ovation too.
Tovey once again nails it with another complex Queer role. From Looking (and yes, that ear rub still breaks my heart) to Years and Years and now Plainclothes, he brings that perfect mix of vulnerability and quiet defiance that makes these stories hit where it hurts – in the best way.
Available to watch on streaming services.
More Reading
- A Queer Cowboy in the City: Lonesome’s Gritty Tale of Queer Longing and Discovery
- All of Us Strangers: A Hauntingly Beautiful Exploration of What Could Have Been
- Antigone [on strike] – A Modern Tragedy of Identity and Control
- Bear Traps at The Golden Goose Theatre: A Quiet Look at Family Ties and Black Holes
