Sundance Review: Vuk Lungulov-Klotz’s Remarkable Trans-Drama “Mutt”

While trans rights are now the subject of a simmering culture clash in America and Britain, that conflict is largely based on the increasing visibility of trans women at a time when self-identification is controversially becoming the norm. However, stories about trans men often go under the radar, and this remarkable New York debut from Chilean-Serbian director Vuk Lungulov-Klotz helps redress that imbalance. With a perfect performance by the Puerto Rican-Greek actor Lío Mehiel, until now known for the Apple show We crashed and a series of short films submitted to the US Dramatic Competition mutt feels like an important but – for reasons to be explained – perhaps interstitial film in the history of LGBTQ+ cinema, fully aware of the fact that it was shot and shot in an in-between that embodies the existential feeling that limbo evokes that the main reflect. character.

The power is that it goes for micro over macro. A recent comparison would be Eliza Hittman’s 2020 hit Sundance Never Rarely Sometimes Alwaysbut if we want to be really flashy, then maybe John Cassavetes of the early 70s – before he made his controversial foray into the genre The murder of a Chinese bookie — would be equally appropriate, since it’s a full-color, freeform character study that takes place over a loose 24-hour period.

Unexpectedly, trans director Lungulov-Klotz leans hard on his theme and opens the film with trans man Feña (Mehiel) meeting his ex-boyfriend John (Cole Doman) in a crowded bar. The encounter is awkward, especially when John introduces her to a cousin who asks, “Do you have a dick now?” Feña says no, and that’s partly why mutt What is interstitial is that in the world of film, as in real life, much remains to be (and will be) explained about Feña’s sexual identity. At one point, Feña says, “Loving men doesn’t make me a woman, okay?” and nothing makes that point clearer than the fact that he willingly has sex with John, mesmerized by his ex-partner’s changing body and, above all, still attracted to the person inside him. (“It used to be complicated,” shrugs John, “and we made it even more complicated.”)

The next morning, Feña goes to buy a morning-after pill, but is surprised by the arrival of his younger sister Zoe (MiMi Ryder), whose image of him has been tarnished by her estranged mother (“You left because you hate us ,” she claims). It’s the start of an eventful but never melodramatic day that ends with Feña picking up his Chilean father from the airport and driving him home, leading to a quiet, emotional reunion that’s like a portrait of two people who trying to overcome to communicate about an unfathomable. abyss, soft-sounding and true, without ever tugging at the heart.

As an introduction, mutt works beautifully for those trying to understand the ever-evolving concept of gender fluidity, and it’s certainly brave of the non-binary Mehiel to tackle the subject in such a direct, soulless way. The big question, however, is where Mehiel will go next and how the theater will adapt to find work for an intrepid talent who does not easily fit into categories.