Gutterbug, the first film of Andrew Gibson, is an ode to the drug-driven thrillers that the director studied and adapted to represent Boston’s punk scene, in some of its most insidious ways. The movie revolves around the titular Bug (Andrew Yackel), a fuck-up of massive proportions, flanked by Slim (Justin Pietropaolo), his best friend who is chaos embodied. The group is rounded out by their drug dealer (Geoffrey Van Wyck), a wealthy burbs kid with a penchant for the macabre, and Bug’s girlfriend, Jenny (Hannah Mosqueda), a shaved head Clementine Kruczynski.
Bug is a character that things happen to and around. He floats through his existence, making few decisions and none of them good. You’re supposed to empathize for Bug; his life is spiraling with no end to the rabbit hole. His mental health issues are seemingly undiagnosed but still apparent, and he clearly has the narcissistic leanings of a young adult blinded by pride. Even after being confronted with the decisions that have led him handcuffed to a hospital bed, he is waiting to be saved from the consequences of his actions. Ultimately, his deus ex machina is Saint Nurse (producer Leigh Lanoca) and ever-caring Mother (Mary Hronicek), sat on the hospital bed across from him. Bug’s mom is one of the shining stars of the film. Her character is situated between the twin, blinding raging of masculine energy emitted by her husband and son. Despite this she manages to overflow with compassion and empathy, a maternal pillar of sacrifice and determination. Hronicek’s performance rivals that of the Yackel’s titular character. Bug is hardly a sympathetic character, but Yackel’s portrayal makes Bug difficult to begrudge, despite being the primary cause of his own misery.
The writing of the movie, which evolved out of a short story by Gibson and adapted for film by co-writer Chris Tobin, falls into the pitfall of nodding to social issues without truly delving into them. Massachusetts is ripe with struggle – we’re one of the hubs of the opioid crisis and our homeless population is often failed by the accommodations provided by shelters and other public services. This is underscored by the lack of people of color present throughout the movie. The movie only has a single featured extra who reads as something other than white; it’s frustrating to see because the Boston DIY scene is so overwhelmingly white – this being echoed in art about a marginalized population is stinging. Gibson himself acknowledges the lack of attention that was paid to casting people of color in his film, and wants to do better next time around.
While Slim begins as the endearing best friend character, a happy-go-lucky enabler of all mischief, his fall from grace in the eyes of the viewer is a rapid one. The only character who is identified as gay is dead upon arrival and addressed with open derision by Slim for his “risky lifestyle.” Even the dismissal from Bug and Jenny seems half-hearted. The remnants of AIDs era language and stereotyping is a wound that the LGBTQ community is constantly having re-opened and not being able to speak while hearing those words – with little done to address and correct it – hurts. It’s not representation; it’s being used as a tool to firmly damn Slim in the latter half of the film. He gets his comeuppance, but those being maligned do not. Touching on these heavy issues of homelessness, trauma, homophobia, the opioid epidemic, and not delving into the reality of living within them is where this film fails its communities. There’s so much witnessed in this film with no real resolution or confrontation of flaws, just a floating until damnation of the character’s own undoing and redemption through family.
It’s a damn pity because the film gets a lot right, including the work of cinematographer, T. Acton Fitzgerald. Gutterbug is beautifully shot and composed; the scene on the Allston foot bridge is a masterclass in light and movement, then the ambulance crash is a tableau vivant. Mostly shot outdoors, Fitzgerald manages to maintain natural lighting throughout the film, while the locations are chosen with a reverence for sacred music spaces and small nooks known to a select few. If you’ve hung out in an Allston basement sometime in the last five years you’ll understand the massive task it is to fit even a small film crew and their equipment into a basement, yet you’ll see more than one familiar face in the background of most shots.
The ambition this film has carries it through to its end. It’s a DIY undertaking, with all funding coming from Gibson and the Indiegogo he put together, but manages to maintain a level of style and anti-establishment bad-assery that oozes through every frame. The story is basically a direct ode to the well-known Scottish classic, Trainspotting, with the same lesson at the end. In summary it is the idea of choosing the inevitable with dignity and growing the fuck up when the abyss stares back at you, but it bears reminding that Irvine Welsh and John Hodge also made their movie to reflect a reality of magnificent fuck-uppery, a celebration of the seediest pestilence-turned-human. It’s a pity that Gutterbug doesn’t give Bug the option to walk away on his own terms, but you are left with the sense that he is “moving on, going straight, and choosing life.”
Gutterbug took home the Grand Jury Prize at Hollywood’s Dances with Films Festival, and you can see the film on July 27th to 31st at Woods Hole Film Festival in Cape Cod and on August 7th through 12th Rhode Island International Film Festival. There will be a screening of the Behind the Scenes documentary at Vivant Vintage, who provided costuming for the film, on Aug 18th.