Plainclothes

Fleabag? Kinda?

Not every film has to be big, grand, or overly dramatic. Some stories are told best in a intimate and ascetic atmosphere. And that’s exactly what happened with Plainclothes, the debut feature from Carmen Emmi.

The film takes us to a small American town somewhere in upstate New York in the 1990s. Lucas works as an undercover police officer searching for men who can be charged with public indecency, cruising in shopping malls. The problem is that Lucas himself understands that he is attracted to men. That realization eats away at him, creating tension and deep dissonance. Everything becomes even more complicated after one of these operations, when he meets Andrew — someone he quickly grows deeply attached to. From there, the story takes a turn, and that’s something you should see for yourself. So no spoilers.

The film is shot beautifully in a very old-school format. It feels truly festival-driven — the film that can attract a smaller but very devoted audience. The story unfolds in a fragmented way, jumping between timelines, constantly using footage that looks like it was recorded on an old film camera. That texture works. It builds atmosphere. We are still in the 90s, and you feel it.

At its core, this is a film about how honest you are willing to be — first of all, with yourself — and what you are ready to sacrifice for your own happiness and inner peace. Because it’s not easy. Sometimes admitting your fears and desires to yourself is much scarier than admitting them to anyone else.

The film works very well in showing social stigmatization and how people are ready to sacrifice so much just for the simple desire to be loved, even when everything is stacked against them. You start clinging to people you barely even know. And here we have two characters who realistically cannot be together, considering who Andrew is, and who Lucas is — a man whose internal tension and self-rejection keeps building until he finally explodes and throws everything away just to try to be himself.

A huge part of why this works is the central acting duo — Tom Blyth and Russell Tovey — who deliver their performances in a very sensitive and beautiful way. They bring drama and charm, but also some awkwardness and great humor. At times the entire theater was laughing, and it was such an effortless kind of laughter that made the story land even better and feel closer.

Yes, this film doesn’t present massive philosophical revelations. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel or uncover themes that have never been discussed before. But films like this deserve to exist. And as long as people are going to see them, that’s a good sign.

7/10