Plainclothes

The LGBTQ+ community has made remarkable strides in terms of acceptance over the past five decades, a far cry from the conditions that were in place years ago. However, despite this progress, community members from various personal backgrounds and those working in certain professions have struggled with their comfort levels when it comes to being open about themselves. They have been unable or unwilling to step forward to profess their true natures to a world that has steadily become more understanding (even if there’s still work to be done in this area, as has become painfully apparent of late). Such are the conditions faced by Lucas (Tom Blyth), an undercover cop assigned to arrest (some would say entrap) gay men who cruise public spaces (particularly restrooms) looking for sex partners, ultimately nailing them on counts of indecent exposure. There’s one problem with that, though: Lucas wrestles with his own attraction to men, a leaning that has made doing his job more personally challenging. He also struggles to cope with the pressures of remaining closeted in his less-than-accepting family, particularly his hypercritical, homophobic uncle (Gabe Fazio). The ante gets upped on all of this when, on the job, Lucas encounters a middle-aged man, Andrew (Russell Tovey), to whom he’s highly attracted. Andrew is something of a mystery man himself, giving off vague vibes about himself that keep Lucas at bay, despite the charged sexual energy between them, as well as the officer’s growing amorous feelings for the enigmatic stranger. The duo is ostensibly trapped at arm’s length in their own choices, but they must nevertheless contend with how to handle the undeniable attraction between them in the wake of personal and professional impediments that they’ve allowed to get in the way – and that, thanks to several ironic plot twists, end up complicating their respective lives even further. Despite the film’s seemingly plausible premise, however, the execution of this story leaves something to be desired, a problem attributable to a narrative and screenplay that could definitely use some work. For starters, the picture is set in the late 1990s, yet the paranoia level among the two leads comes across more like something out of the 1950s. Granted, circumstances in the LGBTQ+ community weren’t as conciliatory then as they are today, but, as a general rule, they weren’t as overwhelmingly confining as they’re depicted here. Then there are plot elements that simply don’t mesh as well as they might have. When the film’s big reveals surface, for instance, they’re often treated almost flippantly, as if they were being employed as insensitive comic relief instead of as dramatic turning points more in line with the overarching tone of the remainder of the story. And then there’s the release’s uneven pacing, marked by a dreadfully dull opening act that, thankfully, is somewhat made up for into the film’s admittedly better-handled second half. But, despite the steady improvement as the film progresses, there’s still plenty of material here that could stand some much-needed shoring up. As one of the year’s most anticipated LGBTQ+ releases, writer-director Carmen Emmi’s debut feature unfortunately comes across as a sizable disappointment, one that could have used a few more script revisions before being committed to film. When a director seeks to make a picture with a profound statement, it’s imperative that the material backs it up with a solid, factually grounded foundation befitting such an insightful observation and does so with eloquent, suitably fitting writing, both of which, sadly, come up lacking in this well-intentioned but ultimately flawed offering.