12. Mutt at Sundance
I’ve heard the term “Sundance film” used pejoratively over the years. I’m not sure what it means exactly, but I’m guessing Vuk Lungulov-Klotz’ Mutt would fall into that category. It’s an understated slice-of-life piece about a young trans man living in New York called Feña (Lio Mehiel). He’s Chilean-American, and in the opening scene we hear him discuss with his dad about picking him up from the airport for a visit. The dad, referring to testosterone as “that shit”, worries about not recognising his son. Already we understand the familiar tension between a trans person and his family.
The first act of Mutt sees Feña run into his cis ex John (Cole Doman) at a club. Even though it is clear things ended badly, with John appearing particularly wounded, the two hook up by the end of the night. The rest of the film follows a day in Feña’s precarious New Yorker life. We see him look after his truant teenage sister Zoe (MiMi Ryder), bust his face jumping a turnstile on the subway, before eventually borrowing a car from John to pick up his dad in the evening.
The writing in Mutt is not the best, though sometimes I think moments of trans life do play out like scenes in an underwritten indie film. One such scene is when Feña and John are doing coke with John’s cousin Jenny (Sarah Herrman) in the club toilet. Out of nowhere, Jenny asks Feña if he has a dick. Depictions of cis microaggressions like this often feel stilted and somewhat didactic. However, swap dick with pussy and such a scenario is a familiar experience for me. Cis people who’ve only known you for a minute will really just ask you about what’s between your legs. It’s kind of amusing that they always sound like a poorly written character in a movie.
There are moments of humour in Mutt that I did find funny but there was something about the way these moments were conveyed that felt a little bit off, a little bit too understated. Maybe it’s something to do with the editing, or the sedate pacing, but I felt like these moments warranted more oomph. There’s this bit where Feña and Zoe are going down a staircase after getting locked out of the flat where they were crashing. Things go from bad to worse when the bag Feña is carrying rips open and the contents fall down the stairwell. I should be rapt with that type of gasping laughter that comes from personal experience of such minor tragedies, and yet all I could muster was a forced little giggle.
Thankfully, Mutt is much more adept at the emotionally delicate moments, and this is thanks to superb performances from the cast. One of my favourites is when John and Feña take shelter from the rain in a laundromat. John offers his jacket to a soaked Feña who is self-conscious about his ex seeing his scars from top surgery. It’s a scene in which the two men negotiate boundaries as they attempt to rebuild a severed intimacy, their awkwardness captured beautifully through shuffing gestures. It’s something that resonated a lot with me as my breasts are finally starting to take shape. It’s simultaneously exciting and anxiety-inducing. They’re still itty-bitty, but I like admiring the soft curve of my left tit from the side. Yesterday, the guy I’ve started seeing messaged me about his desire to see me the same way Leo saw Kate Winslet in that scene from Titanic. It’s a thrill to be desired, yet it’s tempered by a sense of vulnerability. The last time I was with someone my chest was flatter than my singing voice, and while I’m eager for someone to admire me as I am now, like Feña, I instinctively shrivel.
I definitely feel a lot happier with myself than I did before the new hormone regimen. Smiling is starting to come easier to me now. Another moment in Mutt I loved was when Feña and Zoe are waiting for the train and Zoe remarks that Feña is lucky that periods will recede from his life the longer he’s on testosterone. Feña smiles and says “I am”. There’s something in the contented sigh with which he says that line that conveys something deeper than periods. It’s a subtle moment of loveliness.
What ultimately turns Mutt from a good film into one of my favourites of the festival are the scenes between Feña and his dad Pablo (Alejandro Goic). He’s introduced at the end of the film, as Feña picks him up from the airport. As was established in the opening scene, Pablo refuses to understand Feña’s identity as a trans man, asking whim why he can’t just be a girl. Feña’s speech about how difficult it is to be trans rung a little hollow for me. Again, it’s that problem with scenes that deal with microaggressions and how they can come across like badly written dialogue. Here, where the context leaves less room for amusement, this awkwardness is less forgivable. However, Pablo comes round to understand that he must love his child, unlike the mother who drove her son away. When Feña leaves to return John’s car, Pablo is left alone in his son’s room as he gazes at childhood photos on the wall. You can see on the old man’s face a kindling new love for his child. The night I came out to my parents over six years ago was the first and only time I saw my dad cry. It was not a happy evening for any of us. In the years since that night my dad has never failed to gender me correctly, whereas my mum still slips up with both pronouns and name. Even if he’s not the most emotionally forthcoming man, perhaps that determination to respect my identity is the most meaningful expression of love. Watching the scenes between Feña and Pablo inevitably cause me to reflect on my relationship with my own parents, and I think they succeed thanks to the quiet sensitivity of Mehiel and Goic’s performances.
There’s a lot to like in Mutt, imperfect as it may be. Next week, Henry Hanson is releasing his short Bros Before on 31st January. It’s promises to be a horny trans extravaganza, telling the story of two trans guys who jerk off to porn together. Whereas Mutt is a bit more of a mainstream film, Bros Before is going full-on with the Gregg Araki influence. It looks super mad, super horny, and I can’t wait to see it. I don’t want to be one of those cunts who automatically dismisses less transgressive films like Mutt. I definitely dig those understated, character-driven films. Shit like Hard Paint, No Hard Feelings, and Cocoon. At the same time, Bros Before is a film that was made for trans queers, while Mutt is very much a film for “everyone”. As much as I related to Mutt, there will always be a different tenderness I hold towards the works made explicitly for us.