From Scribe to Taking the Helm: The Evolution of Gray Matters

The journey from sitting in front of a computer screen to sitting - or, actually, standing - next to a director's chair (I never sat), was an interesting one. The best analogy to describe my departure from being a writer to becoming a director would be being a Buddhist monk and then overnight becoming the ringleader in Barnum & Bailey's circus.

I have always been an extrovert. I am also an extremely visual person, so how I have managed to stay alone in a room typing away for the past ten years is a bit of a conundrum. I have a love-hate relationship with writing. I love that magical moment when something inside of me explodes with excitement because I've come up with a new idea. At the time I think it's brilliant, it's the best idea I've ever had! It is kismet, love at first sight, a lightning bolt that hits me and makes my endorphins surge. Then I sit down and let my fingers start typing away, giving life and nourishment to my newly formed seedling. For the first few weeks it is bliss, and then, like clockwork, the hate part of the relationship kicks in. I start second-guessing myself, the pieces of the puzzle are not fitting together, and I begin to think my brilliant idea is actually a meaningless pile of babble. Inevitably, however, I come up with a really funny line that makes me chuckle out loud and the love affair is back on! Of course, this entire ping pong match goes on for months and months, often years.

The inspiration for Gray Matters was my relationship with one of my sisters. I am the youngest of three girls, and my oldest sister, Carolyn, is gay. I can remember throughout college and later that she would often develop little crushes on some of my girlfriends. At first I thought it was awkward, and then later realized it made perfect sense. We have always been very close and shared the same taste in most things, so why wouldn't she be attracted to the people in my life? I took that notion, changed the sexes, and started to develop a coming-out story about a brother and a sister who, to their amazement, fall in love with the same woman.

My sister has always confessed to me how hard it was to come out. Not just the emotional torment but the fact she didn't look like your stereotypical lesbian. I recall three of the most popular boys in her senior class asking her to the prom. When she finally came out in her early twenties, there was nothing in pop culture to which she could relate in defining herself as gay. Historically, in television and cinema, lesbians have rarely been portrayed as funny, witty or beautiful. Consequently, I wanted my main character to be a clever, pretty, girl-next-door type. I also wanted to tackle the notion of coming to terms with one's sexuality. However, in order to appeal to a larger audience, I had to come up with a recipe that would whet the appetites of all. My objective was to write a movie to which anyone, whether gay or straight, could relate, but still be very conscientious of the courage it takes to come out. I worked on the screenplay for more than a year, and somewhere in the middle of the process it struck me: This was a project I had to direct. It was such a personal story. As a ULCA film student, I'd often heard one of my professors tell us, "Write what you know." In Gray Matters, I not only knew the subject well, but the script became an extension of me. With each draft, the characters became more and more three dimensional. Eventually, all the characters had parts of me and my sister in them.

For five years, my agents and I knocked on every door trying to get the movie made. Many studios were skittish of the subject matter, others didn't want to take a risk on a first-time director. Lately, people have been asking me, "What does it take to get a movie made?" My answer: stamina and perseverance.

One by one, I started getting actors attached to the script. Sissy Spacek and Alan Cumming were the first to come on board. Both of them being consummate actors made it easier to attract others. Looking for the perfect fit to play the role of Gray was the biggest challenge. After a long lunch with Heather Graham in Los Angeles, my search was over. Aside from her physical beauty and my being a fan of hers since her breakout role in Drugstore Cowboy, it was the way she ordered lunch that sealed the deal for me. She could not decide what she wanted. She kept vacillating back and forth between a healthy salad and a steak sandwich. Ultimately, she ended up ordering both and reaching over my plate, stealing part of my meal although we had just met for the first time. She was my Gray.

Now having a more substantial package to present, my agents were able to go back to financiers to try and get the movie made. Rena Ronson, one of the heads of William Morris Independent, introduced me to Bob Yari. Rena had always loved the script, and convinced Bob that he had to make the movie as well as give me the chance to direct it. He gave me the green light. We put together a budget and a shooting schedule, and finished casting the movie. We were ready to go. Then I got pregnant. The happiest news of my life was not music to the ears of the film's insurance and bond company. I was not insurable. We were eight weeks out from the first day of principle photography, and the plug was pulled. I have always believed in destiny, but it can certainly knock the wind out of your sails at times. My mantra kicked in again: stamina and perseverance.

One year later, as my beautiful baby girl turned six months old, I yelled, "Action!" Pushing the movie a year paid off because I now had Tom Cavanagh and Molly Shannon in the cast, and they are two of the funniest people alive. My shooting schedule was a grueling 21 days. I hit the ground running from the moment I stepped onto my set. Seeing my vision and words come to life was one of the most thrilling experiences I have ever had. I soon realized I was a very hands-on director. Whether it was the wardrobe, the props or the lighting, everything was of equal importance to me. Each and every detail mattered. However, working with the actors was my favorite part of the process. I loved how each of my actors had his or her own process to get inside of a character. It was my privilege as a director to find out what that developmental process was and guide them through their journey. Bridget Moynahan and I ended up having our own secret language. Toward the end of the shoot, I barely had to speak - I would just yell out a code word and she knew exactly what I wanted out of her. I remember Heather Graham saying, "You've never directed a movie before, yet you're one of the most specific directors I've ever worked with. You know exactly what you want." I was flattered, but what she didn't know is I had been directing movies in my head for the previous 10 years!

Some scenes in the movie were harder to direct than others. Time was not on our side. I had to know when to move on and when to hold my guns and do another take. It's an instinct that kicks in when you know there is something an actor hasn't given you yet.

I remember working with Sissy Spacek and asking her to do another take. That particular take ended up being something so different and brilliant that after I yelled "Cut!" I screamed "Yes!" with joy, ran up to her and gave her a hug. Working with actors of her caliber was such an honor, but the best part of it was how much fun we all had. Every day on the set was like being a kid at an amusement park. I recall Sissy saying, "You are so exuberant and supportive as a director!" A compliment I will treasure and never forget.