the mushroom cut
by Douglas Messerli
Jude Dry (screenwriter and director) Monsieur Le Butch / 2022 [12
minutes]
Monsieur Le Butch begins with a young woman (filmmaker Jude Dry) cutting her own hair into a rather lesbian-butch like “do,” before she offers an outdoors haircut to her mother, Cecelia. Cecelia appreciates having her own personal hairstylist and wonders what her “daughter” might with wish to call her new outdoor hairdressing salon, an idea to which Jude appears rather cold. “She”* later replies rather negatively to the entire idea—“he” is after all a filmmaker, and Jude, moreover, does not identify with the female pronoun. As Jude later makes clear, “she” does not identity as a “girl” or a “woman.”
Jude has
evidently returned home to be with her feisty mother in Vermont during the
COVID quarantine, the two of them left alone to work out their differences
regarding Jude’s gender, all of which Jude hopes to capture on film. Jude’s
suggestion for a salon name is the unimaginative “Jude’s Vermont Salon.” No,
that won’t at all do, suggests the mother.
In fact,
Cecelia, appears to be anything but an out-of-touch or dismissive mother. She’s
been reading about the sexual “Other,” and wonders if Jude does not identify sexually
as an “other,” how does “she” define herself? That’s the difficulty, answers
Jude, I don’t know how to define me
yet. “That’s the point of the movie.” Her mother
begs, at least, for an old “lady pass” or perhaps even a “mother pass” on the
whole pronoun “thing.”
Jude isn’t
amused. “Let’s not talk about the pronoun thing; it will just upset me.”
Cecelia
quite brilliantly responds: “Isn’t that what we’re doing here? Upsetting each
other?”
The,
however, mother even writes her own monologue to explain her difficulties with
the changes in her former daughter, particularly when Jude suggests that since “I
am home with someone to care for me,” perhaps this is as good time as ever to
have “top surgery,” an idea which the mother begs Jude to postpone at least
until after her own death.
Yet it’s
clear that this wonderful woman is not about to soon disappear. At one moment
when the two are not quite seeing eye-to-eye, Jude complains that Cecelia is
not truly facing the difficulties her offspring is posing, and argues,
incidentally, that the monologue is far too long.
Finally,
the mother recounts a wonderful story of taking her then young daughter to get
a haircut. The barber handed her a large book of both girl’s and boy’s haircuts
from which to choose the style. As Jude leafed quickly through the front of the
book, devoted to female cuts, “she” finally became entranced with what “she”
saw upon reaching the boy’s pages. And finally the child’s eyes grew wide pointing
with her chubby finger at one particular style, a “mushroom” cut, the mother
realizing “that kid knows exactly what they want and who they are. And you’ve
never lost that quality. It’s something I admire so much about you.”
“And did
you let me get the boy’s haircut?” Jude enquires.
Well, “you
know, there’s no letting you do anything; if you want something there’s no
stopping you. But yes it was a mushroom cut, and Monsieur Le Butch you were
right then. It suited you perfectly. You looked adorable.” She pauses, changing
the word, to “handsome.” Jude kisses Cecelia on the cheek, having finally
recognized that the mother has not only perceived early on the differences of
her offspring, but that she has already slipped her “daughter” into a new pronoun
in the use of the general “they” and “them,” and applying the world “handsome”
instead of the more feminine appellation of “adorable.”
Yes, “Monsieur
Le Butch,” Cecelia proclaims, “He’s stylish. He’s cool.”
*I have purposely used shifting pronouns throughout
this short piece to demonstrate the problems in self-identification Jude and
her mother are facing in their encounters.
Los Angeles, August 14, 2025
Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (August
2025).



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