ray Matters is as unhinged as its characters. The film's identity crisis begins with an opening credit sequence with delusions of noir, continuing with a scene of romantic ballroom dancing that may or may not be taking place in the imaginations of its main characters before it settles into a funk of TV-sitcom idiocy. Gray (Heather Graham) and Sam (Tom Cavanagh) are siblings but they're so close that everyone confuses them for lovers. They talk fast and their little piece of the Big Apple is a center for impossible behavior: at a dinner party, a woman proudly claims to have written an article about how there aren't any overweight gay men, and a tapas restaurant doubles as a center for bilingual education. Molly Shannon, as Gray's coworker, attacks every scene with rabid improvisational desperation and Sissy Spacek, as Gray's therapist, appears in spots to drown the film in absurd analogies about how Gray is like a hotel. Though her vagina is closed for business, Gray learns that she's a lipstick lesbian after kissing her brother's soon-to-be wife during a drunken night-out. What ensues is the most inexplicable comedy about delayed homosexuality every made, which has Gray attempting to suppress her gayness—to the embarrassment of everyone (including the audience)—by asking out a hottie who accepts her obviously romantic advances only to later tell her that he's also queer. If you can get past the fact that Gray and Sam probably rented a room from the Gilmore Girls at some point during their lives, their relationship is rather endearing, and though the sight of Alan Cumming dressed as a woman is enough to cause nightmares, the film at least understands that the buildup toward losing one's gay virginity can sometimes feel like a colossal farce.