In ‘Plainclothes,’ Russell Tovey Exorcises Venerable Demons

“I’m always having sex in everything I do,” Russell Tovey says, cheekily. He’s not wrong. Ever since his breakout role as Kevin, Jonathan Groff’s sweet boyfriend with a wandering eye on HBO’s Looking, the British actor has often been asked to engage in queer carnal pleasures onscreen, whether it’s playing a closeted cop on American Horror Story: NYC or Truman Capote’s closeted lover, John O’Shea, on Feud: Capote vs. the Swans. And there’s more where that came from in his latest project, Plainclothes, premiering at Sundance Film Festival on Sunday.

“It was like choreography, but it was so poetic,” Tovey says of his intimate scenes in Plainclothes. “It’s a lot to ask of actors to do. The stuff that we are doing in it is so graphic—you know what’s happening. It’s beautifully filmed and it’s romantic.”

Plainclothes isn’t simply about sex. Inspired by true events, Carmen Emmi’s film follows Lucas, an undercover cop played by Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes star Tom Blyth, who’s wrestling with his sexuality while simultaneously leading the police effort to entrap and arrest gay men for public indecency in ’90s-era Syracuse, New York. Against his better judgment, Lucas falls for Tovey’s Andrew, a—you guessed it—closeted, sensitive man and an unwitting target of Lucas’s sting operation.

“There’s a lot of trust needed to create the dynamic that me and Tom have, and I think we both really committed to that straight away,” Tovey says on a video call from his home in London. He praises the “phenomenal” intimacy coordinator, Joey Massa, for their work in crafting the love scenes. At 43, Tovey is senior enough to remember a time before the proliferation of intimacy coordinators, noting that he’s only worked with them for the last six or seven years of his career.

“Throughout Looking we didn’t have anything—we all loved each other and trusted each other,” he says. “But in so many things I’ve done, I’ve literally just turned up and I’m in a room and suddenly I’m fucking someone in a bed. And you’re like, Oh, okay. You just get on with it and you have to look at the other person and go, ‘Are you okay? I’m okay. Right, let’s keep going.’” The exploit of intimacy coordinators on set can be a source of debate, but Tovey, for one, is fully on board. “It can actually make something a hundred times better, which I think Joey was able to do with us,” he says.

The sex in Plainclothes is high stakes as Lucas stalks popular Syracuse cruising spots, like the mall, in search for targets to seduce and then arrest in public restrooms. Taking place during the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” era, before apps like Grindr and Sniffies turned the once risky act of consummating gay love into a game—Plainclothes has a period-piece quality, despite taking place just 30 years ago. “It has this innocence because that time was before apps, before mobile phones, pre-internet,” Tovey says. This gets even more complicated when compounded with the limiting factor of not living in a major metropolis bustling with queer folk. “We find out Andrew’s background, and not having opportunities to organically connect with people, forces people into these situations.”

Although these situations may feel like a thing of the past, Tovey notes that it’s still very much relevant today, given the recent reelection of Donald Trump, who began rolling back protections for the LGBTQ+ community the minute he stepped back into office. “The rhetoric of the government—this doesn’t feel like something that’s completely fine or accepted on any level,” he says. “What we’re going into now, this next phase of politics—what is that going to look like? It doesn’t feel like it’s that far away from the reality of today.”

Tovey actually experienced a bit of this while shooting Plainclothes on location at a mall in Syracuse. “This guy walked past me and he said, ‘You’ve got a tiny dick, dude,’” he says. “He was obviously wanting me to turn around and go, ‘What did you just say?’ And then I’m sure there would’ve been a fight, but instead of being offended, I found it hilarious and just kept my head down and kept walking.” It was a diminutive moment, but one that captured a feeling that was in the air shooting in Syracuse with the presidential election looming. “That energy was there—intimidation and instigation,” he says. “On an anthropological level I found it incredibly fascinating to be in that energy. Politically, it’s very mixed. You’re seeing a lot of flags that are quite troubling, I guess, and jarring.”