Albert Nobbs is a great idea that isn’t well-realized

Glenn Close, an unconvincing man

Though we don’t always want to admit it, each of us wears a mask in public, presenting ourselves to the world differently than we do behind closed doors. Sometimes it’s subtle; sometimes there’s a marked gap between who we pretend to be and who we actually are. This is the central theme in Rodrigo Garcia’s new film, Albert Nobbs, which stars Glenn Close as a 19th-century Irishwoman who’s served for three decades as a butler while pretending to be a man.

It’s a fascinating idea, and it’s a great part for Close, who’s labored to bring this story to the screen for almost as long as the character she plays has pretended to be a man. Sadly, however, it’s Albert himself who doesn’t do the theme justice.

In the opening moments of the film—which opens Friday, Jan. 27, at Hillcrest and La Jolla Village cinemas—we learn that Mr. Nobbs is by far the most dependable waiter and butler in the Dublin hotel that employs him. Uh, her. (I’ll keep the pronouns male from here on, because that’s probably how Albert would want it.) Nobbs is proper and methodical, stealing away to his room every night to count his tips, hoping to eventually save enough money to open his own shop. When his boss announces that a visiting house painter, Hubert, will be sharing his bed for a night, Albert panics, but that bedmate, nicely played by Janet McTeer, opens Albert’s eyes to the corner he’s painted himself into and makes him consider whether there might be room in his life for a wife.

Now, it isn’t that Albert is gay. Though he’s played the part of a man for so many years, Albert is more asexual than male or female. But this eyeopening experience leads him to court Emmy (Mia Wasikowska), a saucy chambermaid who has her own eyes on Joe (Aaron Johnson), the resident bad boy. But Albert is so desperate for a spouse that he’s more than happy to shell out his hard-earned wages in hopes of matrimony, but we already know that a walk down the aisle isn’t possible.

This is one of the film’s problems. Albert is completely out of touch with reality, which makes him the least interesting part of the film. His repression is all-consuming, and his dreams of opening a small tobacco shop where he’d live with a spouse aren’t nearly as interesting as the idea of reclaiming who he was before he took on his identity. McTeer’s Hubert is far more engaging, expressing what the movie should be truly about, but Close—who’s never convincing as a man, in my opinion—isn’t able to imbue Albert with the same depth and importance. Why does Albert want a wife? It’s less about crippling loneliness than a hazy vision of the future. And that’s tragic, really, because Close co-wrote the screenplay. Albert Nobbs is as slight as its main character and often feels just as timid.

It’s the doctor, a supporting role played by the wonderful character actor Brendan Gleeson, who corners Albert at a costume ball and tells him that both of them are disguised as themselves. Of course, he’s referring only to what they’re wearing, but it’s a telling moment, yet another one that comes from a character who isn’t Albert Nobbs. The doctor’s also the man who says, “Dear Jesus, I don’t know why people live such miserable lives.”

Nor do I. And I don’t believe any miserable lives are going to be improved by Albert Nobbs.