Mutt review: A groundbreaking study of post-transition experience

Chilean-Serbian filmmaker Vuk Lungulov-Klotz’s debut feature film Mutt, which premiered at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival, opens with the shot of 20-something protagonist Feña (trans actor Lío Mehiel) quietly chilling at a nightclub. It is a crowded place, and we don't really know what he's thinking about. From here onwards, Mutt will spend an entire day with him in New York city, quietly following him as he navigates people, places and his own privacy. (Also read: Cassandro review: Gael García Bernal triumphs as a gay wrestler)

Feña has recently undergone top surgery and transitioned. He is no longer Fernanda, the birth name by which his father still addresses him. Mutt, which his fuelled by Lungulov-Klotz's own cultural background and experience of transition, immediately settles in with an air of authenticity and pragmatism. His screenplay, which is fashioned to draw out precise moments of post-transition experience, can be broadly split in three parts.

First, when Feña chances upon ex-boyfriend John (Cole Doman), with whom things ended on a sour note when he came out as trans. Then it is Feña's 14-year-old half-sister Zoe (MiMi Ryder) who has run away from school, but then reveals the complicated relationship with their mother. And finally, she has to pick up his father Pablo (Alejandro Goic), later the next night. He is coming to visit from Chile, and hasn't seen his child in two years. He is yet to come to terms that Fernanda is gone, it's Feña now.

The histories of these three relationships are presented with immense control and compassion. Maintaining a tight focus on Feña as he rolls along these three separate encounters with varying degrees of energy, Lungulov-Klotz’s Mutt excels in capturing the moments inbetween. An early scene in the laundromat where a tender moment steadily cuts into a vulnerable rollercoaster of emotions as Feña lays himself bare in front of John- physically and emotionally, is superbly constructed and performed.

Cinematographer Matthew Pothier captures the movement and rhythm of daily hustle with style. Here is a city that seldom sleeps, buzzing with people, yet strangely, almost shockingly lonely. As Feña moves along these spaces- along the metro, somewhere in a basketball court; the city still obliges. Yet, a place is as good as it's people, and we come to know how Feña is not just displaced from home, but also through his body. It's more than just an experiment or a phase, he says in exasperation to his father who looks closely at him from the moment he arrives. He is trying to come to terms not only with Feña, but also with his own perception along the way. Mutt captures that feeling brilliantly in a later scene.

Even as Mutt slightly begins to lose steam in his second half, it is saved by the electric presence of its actors. The excellent Cole Dolman brings so many layers to John, and makes him so much more than the cis man with a hurt ego. He is devastating in the scene where he finally musters the courage to open a can of worms in front of Feña, stating the truth without an iota of divulgence. MiMi Ryder is a scene-stealing presence, punctuating Mutt with a much-needed charm and generosity. Most of all, it is Lío Mehiel- who is so raw, so real as Feña that you know exactly what he feels even when he chooses to wordlessly process some chaotic, desperate situations. Mehiel's compelling presence makes Mutt pointedly, thrillingly complex. Its not just any other trans experience, its Feña's own. The effect is nothing short of groundbreaking.

Stories like Mutt are necessary and important, because it gives name, place and shape to a specific experience with stunning authenticity. A day in the life of Feña is enough to tell what he has been through, and what the next day has to offer. By the end, you know he will be okay. The only film that almost comes close to that veritable state of representing post-transition experience is Luis De Filippis’ debut feature Something You Said Last Night. The more trans stories are told, the more regular and relatable they will become for its generation and beyond- never drawing a line for transness, but always leaving space to include someone like Feña who would know, how it feels to see, inhabit and face the world in correspondence.