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Though her big-screen performances have earned her five Oscar nominations, Glenn Close has spent the last few years focusing on the small screen, raking in loads of awards for her chilling performance as Patty Hewes on Damages. But her return to film, starring in director Rodrigo García’s Albert Nobbs (for which she also has a co-writing credit), is sure to garner just as much attention as the time she boiled that bunny all those years ago.
A nearly unrecognizable Close stars as the title character, a loyal and hard-working waiter at the posh Morrison’s Hotel in 19th century Dublin. Nobbs has worked as a waiter for years, carefully hiding the fact that he is actually a woman. But when she meets painter Hubert Page (Janet McTeer), who shares her secret, she realizes that her life doesn’t have to be lonely and secretive.
Once an abused wife, Mr. Page is now a happily-married man with a devoted wife and a successful business. Inspired by Page, Nobbs decides to make something of her own life, too. With the money that she’s hidden away for years, she hopes to open a tobacco shop. She’d like someone to share it with, too—so she begins courting Helen Dawes (Mia Wasikowska), a maid at the hotel, who intends to use the soft-spoken waiter to help her collect the money needed to move herself and her boyfriend, Joe (Aaron Johnson), to America.
Albert Nobbs is certainly a far cry from Close’s often bold and commanding characters—like Patty Hewes of Damages or Alex Forrest of Fatal Attraction. But it’s a daring (and surprising) role nonetheless. Instead of strong and self-assured, Nobbs is timid but sweet—a character who’s spent her entire life in the shadows, carefully hiding her true identity, dreaming of someday being free to live the life she’s always wanted.
Close’s transformation is truly remarkable. She quietly underplays the role, deliberately blending into the woodwork of Morrison’s Hotel. And she’ll make your heart ache for this poor, lonely woman, who wants nothing more than a little tobacco shop—and a little companionship.
The story, on the other hand, falls disappointingly flat. Nobbs is such a fascinating character that she deserves a story with more substance—but, aside from a brief moment of release, her life is quiet and dismal and tedious (not to mention dry). While the character’s experiences—and her reasons for the choices she’s made—help to make her memorable, her low-key actions throughout the film don’t make for a particularly riveting experience. And, in the end, it feels like a missed opportunity, with a dreary let-down of a conclusion that could have been much more powerful (and a lot less depressing).
Of course, Close’s perfectly understated performance alone still makes Albert Nobbs worth a look. But it’s a shame that such a noteworthy performance couldn’t have come from a more striking, less disheartening period drama.
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