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Thus Henry snares the part of a beat officer on the popular show Crime Wave. It's a moment of triumph, despite his father's (David Hemblen) muted reaction. Fitted out for a uniform, Henry throws himself into rehearsal and the process of climbing inside his role. That's why he takes to the street in his new outfit, returning on an adrenaline buzz. The effort seems to pay off when Henry's co-star Charlie Warner (Brigitte Bako) feels moved to comment upon his performance. Encouraged, Henry decides that he's onto a good thing here, both personally and professionally.
Like a substantial number of very fine movies, I Love a Man in Uniform is based on a single idea. To uncover it, you must first imagine a man with a personality so thin it's almost insubstantial, someone who relies on external forces to give his life meaning. A figure like Henry perhaps, a fellow who feels the absence of personal validation acutely. The question is then: what would happen to this poor unfortunate if he came across a ready-made hero, the sort of guy that he'd love to be? Would the artificial win out over the real? This is the struggle that consumes Henry, though in many senses he capitulates without a fight. Writer-director David Wellington makes Henry so dilute that any alternative might seem preferable to what he's already got.
Fundamental to the film's success, McCamus' performance is masterly. At first he makes Henry a grounded, if solitary, sort of guy. Then, as I Love a Man in Uniform unfolds, the metamorphosis commences. Ever so gradually, with wonderful stealth, McCamus uncoils the changes within Henry, transforming him into something strange and new. Reality blurs, Henry identifies with his TV character and make-believe becomes all there is. It's a very subtle piece of acting, made all the more impressive by knowing that McCamus has no one to play against but himself for the bulk of the story; in exchange we get his thoughts and actions. When someone like Bako does appear, with a fine performance, McCamus responds in a frighteningly intense fashion. It's impressive without being obvious.
McCamus is, however, given quite a lift by the cinematography of David Franco. Functioning as a proxy for us, the audience, Franco responds to Henry, repelled and attracted by his fantastical power trip. In one especially fine scene, the camera has no option but to retreat from this disintegration. It just can't bear to be near Henry, to witness his psychosis. The costume design of Beth Pasternak also deserves mention, since I Love a Man in Uniform is essentially provoked by her rag-trade facade. Merely by donning slightly different clothes, Henry gains access to the ritualised world of law enforcement. There's a special aura here, a blend of danger, possibility and the chance to judge others; how can an outfit confer such power?
In the end I Love a Man in Uniform boils down to a single question; who's to blame here, is it society or is it Henry? Yet for all of Wellington's discussion on the subject, the movie is dominated by McCamus. He tiptoes with amazing balance, first giddy with assumed authority then petrified by the risk of discovery. His fakery seems every bit as addictive as heroin or cocaine, leading to an interesting similarity; don't all of these drugs give you huge amounts of imaginary power while leaching away the real power, bestowing a form of impotence? Well, that's certainly Henry's problem when he comes across a crime over which he has no jurisdiction; it's this jibing with self-image that destroys Henry.
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