Written after a sour moviemaking experience with Prelude to a Kiss, Craig
Lucas's 1998 play The Dying Gaul was a poison-pen letter to Hollywood and
its ability to drain creative talent dry. Six years later, Lucas's directorial
debut still comes off like a flipped bird to industry brass, particularly with
its sharply satiric portraits of a closeted bisexual executive (Scott) and a
brilliant gay writer (Sarsgaard), whose semiautobiographical script the studio
suit wants to buy. Unfortunately, the film also duplicates the play's mélange of
muddy moral quandaries and degenerates into discordant white noise.