GLR March-April 2026

in that era long before Grindr. Lucas (played by Tom Blyth) is a young, closeted gay cop assigned to a special task force, on undercover “plainclothes” duty at the bathroom of the local mall, a well-known male hookup site. The police cruise and en trap gay men, getting them to expose themselves and then ar resting them for lewd conduct. Lucas finds himself attracted to one of his targets, the older, handsome Andrew (Russell Tovey), whom he allows to go free. Andrew is also closeted but married with children. There’s a shocker later when Lucas discovers what he does for a living. The title has a double meaning, as both Lucas and Andrew are out of their “uniforms” when they meet. They later rendezvous in theaters and greenhouses for sex, despite Andrew having a strict rule about not engaging with a guy more than once. Falling for Andrew, Lucas reveals his feelings to his ex-fiancée Emily, who’s accepted the truth about him. However, he can’t tell his mother, with whom he lives, or the rest of his conservative family. He’s torn between duty and desire. All these tensions will culminate at his mother’s New Year’s Eve party, the first since his father’s re cent death, leading to an explosive, enigmatic conclusion. Both Lucas and Andrew are carrying heavy secrets, each denying parts of themselves, leading to psychological turmoil. Andrew is more resigned to the limitations society has imposed, accepting the boundaries that accommodate his double life. Nevertheless, his plight is heartbreaking. Lucas seems con stantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he caves to fam ily pressure, monitors what he says, and suffocates under the fear of being exposed. That fear is so oppressive to him that vi olence and rage bubble just underneath his surface. Emmi uses the surveillance metaphor to ask what it means to be watched all the time, not only in the sense of how society looks at you, but in how you police yourself internally so as not to reveal who you really are. By zeroing in on cruising, he shows how humiliation and fear can be used as agents of con trol over desire in a situation that’s furtive and dangerous—but simultaneously erotic. The film can be overwrought, bordering on melodrama, es pecially during Lucas’ scenes with his homophobic uncle. Emmi uses a Hi8 camcorder—a technology he discovered at age ten and used to create short films—to represent Lucas’ inner thoughts: what he sees and what he believes he sees. It’s in tended to build tension, but it’s jarring and distracting, taking us out of the narrative, which is suspenseful enough without such gimmicks. Although it’s a low-budget indie film, Plain

audience. It asks for acceptance but acknowledges that everyone must exist independently from those around them. Lighton com plicates this message by grounding it in the importance of com munity. No one can hope for universal approval, but neither can they exist without attaching themselves to networks of care. Ray’s biker gang is one such network, featuring an array of queer masculinities and bodies rarely shown on screen, let alone presented as capable of expressing or eliciting desire. The film largely centers on Ray and Colin’s conventional bodies, but those around them aren’t devalued due to the absence of mus cle or a presence of fat. The gang’s diversity speaks to a world of queer desire far beyond what traditional romcoms—or even many mainstream queer films—typically depict. One could argue that Pillion doesn’t go far enough in ex ploring the abjection and transgression of BDSM, but the film is successful in what it set out to do: transgress the romcom genre and explore the difficulties of nurturing queer autonomy. The tropes are evident but unobtrusive, and the use of a con ventional story structure highlights the complexities of Colin’s journey as he straddles the line between his dual worlds.

B RIAN B ROMBERGER KnivesOut

PLAINCLOTHES Directed by Carmen Emmi Magnolia Pictures W HETHER you’re queer or not, we all sometimes po lice our feelings or hold back our true selves, an in ternal struggle that can build anxiety and compel us to ask what it means to live truthfully. Gay writer-director Car men Emmi explores these conundrums in his evocative feature debut, an edgy psychological thriller titled Plainclothes ,which won the U.S. Dramatic Special Jury Award for its ensemble cast at last year’s Sundance Film Festival. Plainclothes is a period piece set in 1997 in Syracuse, New York, Emmi’s hometown, based on his memories of the culture

clothes does a superb job of depicting a slice of New York life in 1997, aided by the costumes and soundtrack, reminding us how difficult fin de siè cle gay life could be. The irony is that, while gay men are still being entrapped by the police (as we saw last year at New York’s Penn Station), today they’re also recruited to join the force. Still, Plain clothes is a cautionary tale, hyperkinetic, raw, at times uncomfortable, but engrossing and unforget table. It’s one of the best LGBT films of 2025 that I’ve seen, and Carmen Emmi has an exciting fu ture as a writer and director. ____________________________________________________ Brian Bromberger is a writer for The Bay Area Reporter .

Tom Blyth and Russell Tovey in Plainclothes .

TheG & LR

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