While certainly some segments are entertaining in their own right, the majority of this movie focuses on the notion of "poor little me" - the "me" being the filmmaker who is wrestling with telling her parents that she's gay.
It's all for naught: she never does; but, more importantly, we the viewers end up not caring!
The problem here is that the filmmaker had Ross McElloway (misspelled but I don't feel like looking his boring profile up) as her instructor.
One of the few positive things that can be said about McCabe's exercise in unbridled self- indulgence is that is nowhere as near as painful to watch (and definitely nowhere as achingly long) as her professor's "tour-de-torch" "Sherman's March".
Oh - one more thing - filmmaker McCabe no longer considers herself "gay" - so even those in the gay community who might be tempted to check this in the name of "sisterhood" you can fuggeddaboutit: Miss Mitch has moved on - and you should too by skipping over this now "out-dated" piece.