One year ago, when I first heard about writer-director David Thorpe’s upcoming documentary on the science of why gay men often have a distinctive voice, I posted the trailer to Facebook along with the entirely naive comment: “Wow, I didn’t know sounding gay was something people worried about.” A former classmate who now works in academia responded, “Oh yeah. I’ve been asked to sound less gay at work.” When pressures to sound more “straight” extend further than schoolyard bullying, even affecting a person’s livelihood, it’s clear that the otherwise clever title Do I Sound Gay? betrays a bit of anxiety as well. And Thorpe isn’t shy to confess his hatred of his own voice. Newly single and seemingly surrounded by happy gay couples as New York City legalizes gay marriage, Thorpe decides that, instead of pining for his old beau, he’s going to busy himself with a question that’s nagged him his whole life.

Thorpe, a journalist by trade, starts his documentary doing what journalists do: interviewing people. Fortunately for him, he has a lot of influential friends ready to talk to on the subject, including the popular sex columnist Dan Savage, humorist David Sedaris, George Takei, Tim Gunn, and Margaret Cho. Perhaps it’s Savage that answers my dumb question from a year ago best: “Teenagers should absolutely be concerned with how they sound, because it often leads to violence.” His commentary goes side-by-side with footage of a high school freshman getting beaten up by classmates for sounding effeminate.

The teenager, who Thorpe later interviews, lets us into his world a bit, but Thorpe himself surprisingly never lets viewers into his own life. He says he blocked out most of his childhood in the Bible belt and seems to have had a pretty liberating college experience and post-grade life in New York City. Indeed, even the interviews keep us at arm’s length. Despite the impressive catalogue of names, there are a lot of surface-level responses here about the gay experience, which seems to ignore the elephant in the room: You don’t make a documentary called Do I Sound Gay? unless there’s something traumatic about it.

The one moment of vulnerability comes when Sedaris stops with the clever turns of phrases long enough to admit: “I’m embarrassed to say this, but sometimes somebody will say ‘I didn’t know you were gay,’ and it’s like ‘why does that make me feel good?’” At times, it’s hard to not wonder whether or not some of Thorpe’s subjects might have handled the subject better, whether it’s Sedaris’ self-deprecating wit or Savage’s no-nonsense approach to sexuality. How did a film with such an interesting cast of characters end up so tame?

Thorpe’s approach seems timid and reserved. While interviews with competing professionals in the field—one that believes that we pick up speech patterns from the people we spend time with (perhaps gay men spend more time with their mothers), and one that believes we’re constantly code-switching (gay men just get confused alternating between roles)—provide something to the discussion on a journalistic level, as a piece of long-form creative nonfiction, Do I Sound Gay? just seems lacking a bit of heart. A long tangent into the history of gay voices in film, from early black-and-white pictures to Disney classics, might be interesting for a college seminar, but here seems a bit like skirting the primary issue. The argument that gay men are picking up their voices from Captain Hook and Simba’s malicious uncle Scar feels like a bit of a stretch, and it takes up too much of the film’s already short screen time.

The most fascinating question raised by the film—whether or not Thorpe’s voice actually changed when he came out of the closet, as his friends suggest—never even gets adequately addressed after it comes up. In a film that gives a fair share of time to the idea of nature versus nurture, a spontaneous change like that ought to be hashed out. Instead, Thorpe relies on humor to talk around the issue instead of talking about the issue. In most scenes actually featuring Thorpe, he’s seen performing amusing one-liners during his oratory exercises (he’s taking speech classes to sound less gay). He seems to have gained more peace with his voice by the end of the film, or at least he says as much, but it’s a shame it wasn’t more of a journey viewers could join in on. Still, credit should be given for asking a question that’s still a bit taboo to ask. Hopefully the response to the film might inspire some more illuminating answers.

Kyle Patrick Alvarez (Easier With Practice) has been gifted the very first crack at translating the work of acclaimed writer David Sedaris to the big screen with C.O.G., a soul-seeker dramedy adapted from one of Sedaris’ short stories. Faithful followers of Sedaris who’ve been thirsty for a cinematic adaptation of one of his darkly comic short stories won’t find in C.O.G. quite what they’ve been waiting for as it fails to capture the emotional potency of its source material. Thanks to thin, tinny writing, these characters come off as duller, more pedestrian versions of Sedaris’ larger-than-life creations, despite powerful, multi-layered performances supplied by the game cast.

Jonathan Groff plays David, a pompous, preppy Yale student (he lets you know with a big fat “Y” on his sweater) who travels West on a Greyhound with the mission of “getting his hands dirty”, battling his long-repressed homosexuality, and discovering true happiness. Foolishly, he believes that by hunkering down with the working-class world for a while, he’ll be able to clear his mind of clutter and sort out nagging sexual insecurities.

He begins his odyssey picking apples on an apple farm (beautifully shot), run by the hilariously prejudiced Dean Stockwell. David finds himself unable to jibe with his fellow apple pickers (almost all hispanic), partly due to the ignorance he’s brought with him from the East coast. Still, he’s a good kid, and he makes an earnest effort to make friends with strangers. He’s just a little misguided.

Groff’s cockiness and pretension feel natural and often drive the humor, though he never comes across as completely obnoxious or unlikable. There’s a boyish innocence to him that he retains throughout the film, no matter how brash or arrogant he gets. It’s a complex role–there’s a growing thunderstorm of sexual and religious bewilderment and frustration bottled up in David, and Groff conveys the inner conflict well.

After being promoted from the orchards to the sorting plant he meets a friendly, flannel-wearing, blue collar man’s man named Curly (played with panache by Corey Stoll) who…well…let’s just say he comes on a little strong. Also at the plant, David meets a shit-talking apple-sorter, Debbie (Dale Dickey), and later a legless Gulf War vet named Jon (the great character actor Denis O’Hare) who reveals the meaning of the titular abbreviation and attempts to convert David to Christianity, or some variant of it.

Jon is a tornado of rage, jealousy, small-mindedness, and unwavering faith, though he’s got enough kindness in him to take David under his wing. It’s an unpredictable, ever-evolving role, and watching O’Hare embody it with such conviction is a joy. The scenes between Groff and O’Hare are the film’s best—their companionship is touching, yet it always feels deliciously volatile. The rest of the damaged characters aren’t given much to do, though the actors make the very best of what they’re given. The segmented, episodic format of the narrative makes every moment feel transient, fleeting, so that nothing ever sticks. Characters come, they go, we move on.

Alvarez makes Oregon look divine, with its leafy landscapes and tranquil fields highlighted whenever appropriate. It’s a gorgeous backdrop, and the scenery becomes a character in itself. There are several electric moments scattered throughout C.O.G. (mostly involving O’Hare), but the transient nature of the storytelling will leave you cold. Each potential friend David meets turns out to be something shockingly different than what he’d expected, which is meant to feed the main theme: everyone’s got fatal flaws, but they deserve to be loved nonetheless. We should love these characters, but Alvarez hurries by them and doesn’t give us much of a chance to get acquainted.