In Breakfast with Scot, an all-but-married couple of "straight-acting" gay guys—one actively closeted, the other just discreet—are granted temporary custody of a nephew, a 12-year-old boy whose mother has died. This boy looks like Miranda July, dresses like Mrs. Roper, and introduces himself with the statement "I only like musicals." This is Scot, and Scot is a budding flaming homosexual, or maybe a robot programmed to act like one, built by someone who read about homosexuality in an encyclopedia. What matters is that flaming-gay Scot comes to live with the straight-acting queers, and they all learn things about life and love and being true to your flaming-gay robot self.
The basic subject matter of Breakfast with Scot (based on the novel by Michael Downing) is rich with possibility, and there's definitely an interesting movie to be made about the divide between the post-Stonewall queers and the post-Ellen-and-The-Real-World queers. But Breakfast with Scot is not that movie. Hobbled with a Lifetime-quality script, Scot breezes through its oddly cartoonish paces toward an emotional ending as deep and moving as a very special episode of Full House (now with gay robots!).
The film's adamant fluffiness is particularly frustrating in light of the script's teasing glimpses of substance. Both Tom Cavanaugh's pathologically closeted sportscaster and Noah Bernet's robotically homosexual orphan seem to be hovering on the verge of dramatically rich trauma, but all such substantial complications are ignored as Scot sticks to its path as a featherweight feel-good dramedy. Still, even in its odd and confusing boringness, Breakfast with Scot resembles some sort of progress, proving that gay movies can be just as unsatisfyingly formulaic as straight movies.