A 1990s New York backdrop frames Carmen Emmi’s Plainclothes as a thriller that tests the boundaries between duty and desire. Tom Blyth plays Lucas, an undercover cop monitoring a cruising scene, while Russell Tovey’s Andrew becomes the spark that unsettles him. The film leans into a bold visual language, including inserts that echo surveillance footage to emphasize the protagonist’s inner conflict.
Those formal choices are the picture’s strongest suit, yet they can’t compensate for a lack of a clear throughline. The imagery skews toward abrasive or accidental humor at times, and the romance between the leads feels undercooked. Family pressures—a separated wife, an overbearing uncle, and the lingering absence of a father—drift through the narrative without anchoring it.
The story threads converge at a New Year’s party, delivering confrontation with a muted final beat after a long stretch of mood and friction. The film promises a pointed meditation on power and longing but ends up favoring style over a decisive point.
Viewed as a visual experiment, Plainclothes is daring; as a thriller and queer‑cinema statement, it feels underwhelming. It reads less as a sharp thesis and more as a performance of attitude.
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