Four years ago, while working on a PBS documentary about the history of American film, I was assigned to do research on screwball comedies from the '30's and 40's. Watching all the classics, many of which I'd never seen before, was a revelation. I was especially struck by the films' often racy subject matter which, if presented in drama, would have sent the Hays Office through the roof.

From Hawks to Sturges to Cukor, these movies were packed with brazen infidelities, out-of-wedlock children, drunk floozies and one-night stands. Yet presented with a gloss of humor, these directors turned moral lapses into riotous comedy as characters fell in and out of love with a reckless abandon that, 50 years later, I found incredibly appealing.

Cut to the politically correct 90's. The ways in which screwball comedies poked fun at social mores seemed ripe for revivial. However, what had been taboo back then (divorce and infidelity) was now quite commonplace, almost to the point of being boring. There had to be something subversive at work in a screwball, something beneath the gags and goofiness, to make this unique brand of comedy work. I didn't have to look far to find it. It seems the moral bugaboo of our times is homosexuality as the love that used to dare not speak its name cannot shut up.

From gays in the military to gay marriage, the "other sex" has been inescapable, popping up in network news, trashy talkshows, presidential politics, and even the TV sitcom. The increased visibility of gays in the 90's has sent shudders through the nation's moral consciousness in the same way that divorce and the stirrings of women's liberation did back in the 30's. The idea of infusing screwball comedy with gay characters and romances seemed the perfect comic antidote to this national unease. Now I just needed a script.

One of my main concerns while conceiving this film was that I did not want the gay characters to be living in a void. I wanted them to live, as most of us do, in a world of straight people. When coming out, I found acceptance not only in the gay community but with many of my closest hetero friends, men and women. I was inspired by these friendships and found in them the beginnings of a story. Then, as if a starting gun had gone off, all of these friends decided to get married "at the ripe old age of 25" (as Bob says in the film).

I attended all their weddings and took copious notes, trying to figure out the reason behind this rush into lifelong commitment. I never did. Then after having a few open bar drinks at the Ritz-Carlton, me and my ex-roommate wondered what it might be like if I brought a gay date to one of these weddings. At the time, I was also working on a script about the romantic trials of a gay soap opera star. The next day, while suffering from the clarity of a good hangover, these two ideas became one and the story for I Think I Do was born.

Four years and ten drafts and 25 shooting days later, I think we did.