REVIEW: ‘Albert Nobbs’
Director Rodrigo Garcia has had a lengthy, and well respected, career in TV writing and directing. Shows like “Six Feet Under” and “In Treatment” flourished under his watch. They approached topics like family and love from a somber, yet relatable place, rewarding the most patient of viewers with a nugget of heart-wrenching goodness. He understands granting his characters time to spread their wings on screen and slowly blossom into fully actualized people, while exploring the darker parts of love, but not with the same voracity or nihilistic slant his contemporaries like David Milch (“Deadwood”) seemed to rely on. Garcia is a quiet director, and his newest film “Albert Nobbs” is a beautifully paced tragic story of one woman’s attempt to control her life by creating a masculine identity that could potentially destroy her.
Glenn Close stars as Albert Nobbs, an Irish butler working in a prestigious Inn frequented by the British Isle’s finest families and personalities. Albert has worked his way up the service ladder, finally achieving a level of emotional comfort in his job and financial security from his over three decades served. The Inn is undergoing annual renovations, and Albert is informed a house painter will bunk with him for a few days, causing the uptight butler great duress as he tries to keep his new roommate from discovering his true gender identity. Meanwhile, Albert is also beginning to desire the warm embrace of a woman and sets his sights on housemaid Helen (Mia Wasikowska). He nervously woos the young woman, taking a page out of the books he reads and the romantic stories he makes up during his lonely nights, while she jumps into a relationship with the new cad around town, Joe (Aaron Johnson). Thus creating the most awkward Victorian love triangle this side of the Bronte sisters.
You can only imagine the pain and inner conflict associated with both rejecting one’s gender in exchange for dream fulfillment and falling in love with an uninterested woman who has no idea the true identity of her pursuer. The film does not give any answers as to whether Albert hasn’t allowed himself to fall in love before because he was afraid of the feeling, exposing his secret or uninterested in the concept until that point. He does share a confession with the painter Hubert (Janet McTeer) after they both expose themselves, finding a kindred spirit in another woman disguised as a working man. Albert sees the life Hubert has created for himself, living with a woman pretending to be his wife, and wants a similar life for himself.
Close’s ability to lose herself completely behind Albert’s rigid stance and naivety towards love is incredibly striking. Her features disappear behind the makeup and prosthetics, and her lower pitched voice and petite frame coupled with a practiced masculine gait add life to Albert—a character who if played by any other woman might come off as unconvincing or worse, offensive. While the film (co-written by Close and John Banville) is a bit pretentious and overly long-winded, there is no denying Close demands attention in every scene. She may just be the dark horse this Oscar season.
