Heather Graham seems resigned to mugging and shrugging out the remainder of her thirties through a series of undercooked romantic comedies. Too old for the edgy ingenue and yet too weirdly youthful to pull on the mom jeans, Graham, her early potential (and ability to transcend luscious looks) squandered, has strapped on the stilettos and reported for duty in Sue Kramer’s execrable New York coming-out film. After admitting to her creepily co-dependent brother (Tom Cavanagh) that she is in love with his new bride (Bridget Moynahan), and being outed to her entire office in a bit lifted almost directly from Ellen, “Gray” (previously a hopeless singleton despite her fantasy-blonde status) dissolves into hysterics. She’ll never get married now! People will stare! It’s an obstacle course of emoting that would be a stretch even for champion mugger Drew Barrymore. Coming from the strangely vacuous Graham, in a Manhattan this preposterous, the staid social message is as ludicrous as its surroundings.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on February 13, 2007