Psycho-Homosexual Thrillers (Pride pt. XXIV)

Plainclothes

Party Monster

Greetings, my friends! I hope your June as been fun and sweet and gay as hell. As Pride Month sadly comes to an end, I didn’t want to sashay away before I covered one of my favorite subgenres in LGBTQ+ cinema, a theme I’ve covered before and will likely partake in again because it’s just too delectable, and that is the psycho-homosexual thriller. Like psycho-sexual thrillers, the psycho-homosexual thriller is a tense, sometimes tawdry, always scintillating, hopefully sexy cinematic experience, but with the added bonus of including queer or queer-coded characters. Psycho-sexual thrillers are all about subverting the audience’s expectations and twisting the conventions of regular romantic or sexual inclinations. So, naturally, queer cinema—where many subversive stories reside—is an excellent place to find psycho-sexual thrillers. Queer content is inherently subversive from the heteronormative, patriarchal structure that inevitably bleeds from our society into our media. That’s why, for better or for worse, some of the most unapologetically queer narratives come from horror and thriller films. Queer characters are rarely given much depth in hetero-centric films, but tonight’s psycho-homosexual thrillers are chock-full of well-developed, complex, and thoroughly compelling queer protagonists, antagonists, and morally grey in-betweeners, and I couldn’t get enough.

First I watched a film that packaged its psycho-sexual intensity with a good deal of tenderness and sensitivity, too, this is Carmen Emmi’s 2025 film Plainclothes. The film opens on the ominous Law Enforcement Code of Ethics, which states: “Honest in thought and deed, both in my personal and official life, I will be exemplary in obeying the law and the regulations of my department.” It’s 1990s upstate New York, and we are transported to the pinnacle of American consumerism and culture—the mall—where, amongst shoppers and school kids, a young man named Lucas (Tom Blyth) looks around anxiously until he locks eyes with another young man. The two share a friendly smile, and Lucas issues a wordless glance that implies “come hither”, which leads to the two gentleman meeting up in the restroom. Still, no words have been exchanged, but there is an excited energy between them, and in the quiet backrooms of this mall, the two men share an unspoken, nonphysical connection. But when the other man begins to unzip his pants, Lucas’ face turns cold, he exits the restroom swiftly, and directs his colleague, just outside the door, to arrest him. Lucas is a plainclothes police officer, meaning he wears his civilian clothing when on duty—effectively making him an undercover cop who does not necessarily have to legally disclose his title, depending on the circumstance. Lucas’ particular beat is centered upon luring gay men into these situations, where the undercover cop acts like they’re cruising, in order to arrest their targets for indecent exposure at the first glimpse of skin. And, as Lucas explains to a rookie cop he’s training, most of the men they catch have wives and families and don’t want the humiliation of appearing in court, so they just pay the fine. Doing this deceptive task day in and day out seems to weigh heavily on Lucas, who is the gentle mama’s boy of his tough, East-Coast rooted family. Lucas’ queerness is at first only implied, as he steals a couple quick glances in the heavily-homoerotic police station gym, and winces at the sound of his uncle calling his cousin a “pansy.” Nothing is confirmed until the day Lucas is doing his usual, twisted, downright predatory police task, and he locks eyes with a tall, well-built man named Andrew (Russell Tovey.) There’s something different about this target, not just because he’s bookish and handsome, and when he meets Lucas in the bathroom, he is instantly charmed and tries to make conversation. Lucas is completely thrown off, and can’t seem to form a coherent sentence as this tall drink of water offers a smile and a “how are you?” There’s nothing “indecent” going on here, just loads of sexual tension, and when Andrew begins to unbutton his jacket, Lucas leaves more abruptly than usual—and does not direct his fellow police officer to arrest him. But before the two men exit the mall, Andrew shares his phone number with Lucas. Thus begins a careful, quiet, innocent (but still wildly sexy) romance between Lucas and Andrew, wherein the two closeted men seem to find true comfort in an otherwise uncomfortable circumstance. With this courtship, Lucas acts as a double agent, as he is not fully honest with his family, his new lover, or himself. But in the near-silent, intimate moments that Lucas shares with Andrew, he smiles—not to deceive anyone with faux flirtation, but an involuntary smile that can only come from overwhelming joy. Their conversations are tender, sweet, at times heartbreaking, and the ways in which their private moments are shot and captured makes you feel like you’re sitting right next to them. Both men live completely different professional, daily lives, but their interior selves are not so different, and they share the same desires. But just as Andrew introduces Lucas to this brand new world, he explains that they cannot continue to meet up. And between his stressful job and the death of his father, Lucas’ world begins to unravel. I won’t reveal much more of what occurs in Plainclothes, but I will tell you that it is far less mysterious and suspenseful and dark as I’d assumed. The film flirts with and teeters on the edge of danger many times, but the biggest risks it takes are purely emotional, natural, and human. Plainclothes is not the edge-of-your-seat thriller that I’d prepared myself for, but it is still a heart-pounding and unpredictable story full of possibilities—set during a very cold and closed-minded time. Post-AIDS crisis and pre-PREP and mainstream HIV education, the threat of this disease still loomed and the stigma surrounding homosexuality was still painfully prevalent. The most toxic forms of masculinity radiate with fear and shame, and Plainclothes—through a larger, societal lens and a smaller, interpersonal, familial level—painted this picture really well. You’ll have to watch it for yourself to appreciate all of the little subtle touches and nuances to this story, but it is well worth every tense, uncertain moment.

Lacking all subtlety, nuance, and uncertainty was tonight’s next film, a queer cinematic staple I’ve been wanting and needing to see for quite some time—this is Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato’s 2003 film Party Monster. As a longtime appreciator of drag culture, and as someone who regularly engages in modern-day drag consumption, I knew that Party Monster’s impact in the queer zeitgeist is nearly equal to important documentaries like Paris is Burning, so it was about time that I finally watched it. In a semi-mockumentary, semi-fantastical, all-chaos format, Party Monster documents the true story of the rise and fall of the infamous 1980s NYC party promoter Michael Alig (Macaulay Culkin), as told by his longtime frenemy and mentor, James St. James (Seth Green.) Anyone who’s frequented the World of Wonder YouTube page knows James St. James’ iconic videos wherein he is painted by various drag queens, but before the Ru Paul Military Industrial Complex absorbed a large portion of queer media, James St. James was one of, if not the, face of fabulous, famous drag personalities. In the glamorous and grimy 1980s New York club scene, James St. James was a pioneer of the Club Kids—an artistic and fashion-conscious youth movement composed of nightlife personalities, queer creative expression, and eventually, extremely dangerous drugs. Some notable Club Kids include, but are not limited to: Amanda Lepore, Lady Bunny, Patricia Field, DJ Keoki, Clara the Carefree Chicken, Michelle Harper, Julius Teaser, Lisa E aka Lisa Edelstein, Larry Tee, Michelle Visage, Ru Paul, Susanne Bartsch, Vivacious, Leigh Bowery, and Ernie Glam. By the time Michael Alig arrived on the scene, fresh-faced and eager to eat up his 15-minutes of fame, James St. James was already popping up in print, as journalists and tastemakers and concerned parents alike were all curious to know what exactly the youth was getting up to at night. James reluctantly takes Michael under his wing, providing him with golden nuggets of truth like where to stand for tabloid photos and how to pose, how to strut into any venue with confidence, and how important it is to, “Make sure your outfit is a conversation piece even if you’re the only one talking.” Michael very quickly rises through the nightlife ranks and becomes a promoter for The Limelight—a famous club owned by the devilishly handsome and mysteriously eye-patched Peter Gatien (Dylan McDermott)—but Michael’s parties are not confined to this one space. He is an organizer of wild, roaming, outlaw parties that popped up in the subway, on the street, at a chicken shack, and at one point, inside of an 18-wheeler truck. As the newly-minted King of the Club Kids, Michael somehow convinces Peter to bankroll a cross-country search for more club kid personalities, where he recruits Angel (Wilson Cruz), Gitsie (Chloë Sevigny), and Brooke (played by an unrecognizable [other than her iconic voice] Natasha Lyonne.) In the twink of an eye (to quote this film), the parties, the people, and the drugs become out of control, and before this story ends, someone gets murdered—but you’ll have to watch Party Monster for yourself to learn more. The way this story was structured and executed was a bit disjointed and delirious, but I suppose that’s to be expected of a film where the amount of drug-use had to be toned down for it to remain “believable.” It was a bit too chaotic at times, inspiring me to really want to read the book this film is based on—Disco Bloodbath by James St. James—but it was a hilarious, shocking, disgusting, but still dazzling experience nonetheless. I was pretty blown away by both Seth Green and Macaulay Culkin here—who had, at this point, not appeared in a film since Richie Rich in 1994. They both put their entire mind, body, souls, and bussies into these roles, and fully transformed into these tumultuous twinks. I could hardly believe what I was watching at certain points, which is the marker of a truly successful, earnestly batshit retelling of queer history. Between the music, the gay Seussical-esque nomenclature, and the impressive cast—which also included Diana Scarwid, Daniel Franzese, Mia Kirshner, Manny Perez, Justin Hagan, Amanda Lepore, John Stamos, and abusers Wilmer Valderrama and Marilyn Manson—I could not get enough of this movie. I can’t believe it took me this long to watch Party Monster and I can’t believe there were over 1,000 costumes included when the budget for this film was so small—but that’s the power of community! I was utterly enraptured by both of tonight’s psycho-homosexual thrillers, though there were far less “psychos” featured than I’d anticipated. Thank you for joining me for another Pride Month full of queer double features! But if you know me and my taste in movies, you know the queer cinema doesn’t stop here. Until next time, toodles!