Sam and Gray's friends think their relationship is weird, and strangers are routinely confused by their chemistry. "How long have you two been together?" an acquaintance asks. "Thirty-five years," Sam answers, oblivious, quickly adding that they've never actually "been together."

This sort of joke could get really awkward or really interesting fast, if the filmmakers played it right. After all, why can't two platonic siblings share a gorgeous Manhattan loft without everyone making it into a big deal? Just think what Kevin Smith could do with a setup like this.

But first-time writer/director Sue Kramer doesn't really care about Sam and Gray's relationship. She has a completely different taboo in mind: Gray is a budding lesbian, and Gray Matters is her coming-out story. Suddenly, the movie's fresh new conflict has been replaced by an old standby: If Sam and Gray have such similar taste, doesn't it stand to reason that they would fall for the same girl?

Yep, the development is as boring as it sounds, and it's preposterous to boot. A short cab ride after that awkward dinner-party encounter (in which Sam found himself stammering around the suggestion of incest), Gray introduces Sam to the woman of his dreams and, as luck would have it, her dreams, too. Charlie (Bridget Moynaham) is a sexy zoologist who hits it off immediately with Sam. So immediately, in fact, that after their first all-night date, Sam announces that they're engaged.

Gray starts to get jealous. "He has a hairy back," she offers, trying to think of reasons why Charlie might want to think twice. "I work with animals," Charlie replies. "Hairy is a turn-on." On second thought, maybe she isn't that sexy after all (or bright -- she doesn't seem to realize there's no "zoo" in "zo-ologist"), but that doesn't seem to faze either Sam or Gray.

This seems a fair point to pause and point out the sad trajectory of Heather Graham's career. Operating a slim notch above Tara Reid, Graham saw her TV show canceled in record time last year. Now the Boogie Nights breakout finds herself floundering in what amounts to a glorified sitcom. And yet, she's never looked better, despite the unflattering digital video format, which makes it all the more tragic that she's not appearing in better material.

There is no conflict to speak of in Gray's coming out, only well-wishers of both sexes (Alan Cumming and Molly Shannon) who'd give anything to be her type. If that strange sibling setup accomplishes anything, it's making the audience uncomfortable enough that Gray's coming out should come as a relief.

[as featured in The Miami Herald]