Artifice! Disingeuous artifice! Not one meaningful line of dialog. No character development. Spastic "storyline". I couldn't find a reason to care about anyone in this film. They were like cartoons; and not the funny kind. The message is, ostensibly, to see the good in everyone. And that trope resulted in a swing and a miss. Everyone here is depressed and in tumult despite having fabulous lives and wonderful imaginary jobs: Vogue Editor, successful painter, principal pianist of the San Francisco Symphony (a full time position?) - like there weren't a thousand other pianists in SF who could have played the third movement of The Pines of Rome every five years when it gets trotted out to kill the brass section. Memorable lines: "My father's dead. No I lied. He's really alive. I'm sorry I lied about that to you." "Isn't it hysterical when my phone keeps going off during synagogue!" "How can you be like him (the father in prison) when you're more like 'you' than anyone I know". I threw up in my mouth a little on that one.
It is breathtaking how shallow and vapid this story and its characters are. I wanted to like this, I really did, but I can only take so much. We get so few gay themed films and we're supposed to grade on a curve because of that. I get it. But, really... I will get skewered here at IMDb for calling bullsh*t on this one. So, bring it on, 3,2,1, and, go...
It is breathtaking how shallow and vapid this story and its characters are. I wanted to like this, I really did, but I can only take so much. We get so few gay themed films and we're supposed to grade on a curve because of that. I get it. But, really... I will get skewered here at IMDb for calling bullsh*t on this one. So, bring it on, 3,2,1, and, go...