Albert Nobbs *½

Director: Rodrigo García

Cast: Glenn Close, Mia Wasikowska, Aaron Johnson

Janet McTeer, Pauline Collins, Brenda Fricker, Jonathan Rhys Meyers

Brendan Gleeson, Maria Doyle Kennedy

Scene after scene, Albert Nobbs plays out like a Masterpiece Theatre production of Mr. Dullfire (in honor of that other, actually quite funny, drag event Mrs. Doubtfire).

It makes perfect sense to bring up Robin Williams' performance in that film, because Glenn Close in drag actually looks like him. In both cases we were fully aware that we were watching major film stars playing cross-dressers, the difference is that absolutely nothing in Albert Nobbs makes us care to see what lies underneath the facade.

Set in 19th century Dublin, the film opens with images of a hotel's staff preparing for work. Like most period films, this one too wants us to understand the time setting and become familiarized with the characters we will meet; therefore we are initially wowed by meticulous production design and the golden cinematography we've come to expect. 

Among these workers we spot butler Albert Nobbs, who puts extra effort into his work and smiles like a satisfied fool while pleasing others around him. We also meet hotel owner Mrs. Baker (Collins), slutty maid Helen (Wasikowska) and the charismatic Dr. Holloran (Gleeson) who is somehow presented to us with a tinge of menace. 

Soon we learn that Albert's quiet demeanor is because he harbors a secret: he is actually a woman and has pretended to be one for three decades in order to have a job. Once this is revealed, the film instantly falls down because neither the screenplay nor the director can make a point of where they want to take it next.

Is the secret the film's biggest twist or are we supposed to care about whether other characters will discover it or not. Considering how the screenplay makes the characters either completely under/over-written, it's a shame that Close tries to invest so much into a character that's merely a hollow vessel for the director, actress and writer to show off.

Where Close tries to infuse him with a private inner life by shutting everyone else out - including the audience - (and perhaps to cover for how badly written Albert is) the director practically ignores him and turns him into a part of the decoration. Instead García focuses his attention on truly preposterous characters and situations, like Helen (who Wasikowska tries and fails to turn into a character Angela Lansbury might've played in the 1940s) and her affair with do-no-gooder Joe (Johnson). 

Time and time again it seems that nobody in the movie wants to deal with Albert...Even the spark in Close's eye when she plays him, seems to be more about the fact that she finally got to play him than about the character itself. This project has been notorious for being Close's pet cause for at least twenty-five years and by finally getting to do it, she might've become too reverential and cautious (Close is listed as a co-writer), completely forgetting to let Albert have a life of his own.

Things in the plot get more complicated with the appearance of Mr. Hubert Page (McTeer) a strange painter who not only discovers Albert's secret but reveals one of his own: he is also a woman!

We never truly understand why the film is about Albert and not about Mr. Page, considering how McTeer plays him as the only believable character in the movie. It doesn't help that it's obvious from the start that he's also a she, it forces one to wonder whether the character would've been more successful if played by an unknown actress or to just be thankful for McTeer's humanistic work.

The worst thing in the film might be how time and time again it misleads us by trying to turn Albert into a mystery based on ludicrous twists and events. For example when Hubert suggests that Albert should open up a shop, Albert imagines himself married to Helen and being a successful businessman.

However at no point are we to understand that Albert is gay and has any sexual desire for Helen, or even that he is so complexly damaged that he has come to believe that he can only attain success as a man. We are teased in a similar way when we see Albert longingly looking at a picture of a young woman. When we discover who she is, we realize that even within its faux-class attire, García is merely using Albert as a morbid circus attraction. The fact that Albert remains in character even when he delivers ridiculous monologues in his room, make it obvious that nobody in the production team had any real conscience of who Albert would be.

By thinking we're often wondering "is he or isn't he", the director loses all purpose and turns the movie into a claustrophobic tabloid-esque story. All of his characters become either too hermetic or too stereotypical for us to take any interest in and he makes no comment whatsoever on either sexual identity, Victorian repression or anything that might've interested an intelligent adult. By the time the film is over (after an overblown, melodramatic succession of events) we realize that Albert might've had a knob but the artistic team behind him lacked the balls.

The Secret of Kells ***

Director: Tomm Moore, Nora Twomey

There was a time when hand drawn animation had the power to take our breath away and remind us of the lengthy artistic history encompassed in pen, ink and paper.
Disney once was a master of this craft with every new movie becoming a landmark of beauty and perpetuation of creative power.
As the years went by the studio reduced its interest in pushing itself and settled for a definite animation style. Other studios could've taken advantage of this opportunity to pave their own ways but chose to imitate Disney animation.
With the advent of computers and CGI animation audiences all but gave their backs to hand drawn animation and succumbed to the real qualities and three dimensions that could be achieved with this technology.
As this kind of animation reaches its own limits (the biggest difference between movies of this kind now lies in the screenplays) a little gem comes along to remind us that sometimes the greatest things come from our past.
In "The Secret of Kells" directors Moore and Twomey take us to the Middle Ages to meet Brendan (voiced by Evan McGuire) a little boy living inside the Abbey of Kells with his uncle, Abbot Cellach (Brendan Gleeson).
As the abbot oversees the construction of a fortified wall to protect them from Vikings, Brendan, who has never left the Abbey or the village around it, dreams of what lies beyond the great forests.
He gets his thrills from stories he hears from the other monks. He suddenly sees the possibility to satiate his thirst for knowledge with the arrival of Brother Aidan (Mick Lally) a monk from the Ilsand of Iona carrying with him an unfinished book of which powers have been talked about for ages.
While the Abbey forbids his nephew from getting involved with Aidan, Brendan disobeys enthralled by the temptation of creation. Based on the legends surrounding the creation of the legendary Book of Kells, the filmmakers come up with a beautiful, simple metaphor to narrate the way in which knowledge has always been a threat.
Brendan becomes the symbol of enlightenment fighting the dark forces of barbarians and the Church itself.
While the movie makes for a lovely crash course of Midle Ages' history it must be said that its ideas-perhaps because they're addressed to children-are filtered into simple ways, such that the evil Vikings become amorphous figures with horns and the Church's interest in keeping the masses ignorant is processed as extreme paternal worry on part of the Abbey towards Brendan.
Therefore the characters might not be that developed and mature, but the movie more than makes up for it with its relentless aesthetic power.
The character animation perhaps recalls the style of Craig McCracken (just to mention a contemporary animator) with the use of simple lines and elementary figures to create each feature.
The animation for the characters is particularly effective. The Abbot for example is drawn with sturdy, severe lines that evoke his firmness, while Brendan is made out of circles that seem to juggle upon each other as the character moves.
One of the most beautiful creations is the fairy Aisling (voiced by Christen Mooney) a pale impish being that seems to materialize out of nowhere in every scene she's featured, she's drawn with long curves that give the impression of a misty aftereffect.
The expressionist animation does much more for each character than any line of dialogue can and sometimes the filmmakers seem to forget this, stuffing the plot with Celtic legends and unnecessary conversations.
For more serious film buffs and art lovers the most appealing element in "The Secret of Kells", might not be its exploration of what brought forth Illumination theoretically, but what graphic arts contributed when words were such a luxury.
The central Book of Kells is among the most famous versions of the gospels before Gutenberg and the film sometimes feels like watching Medieval arts spring to life.
More than that, the movie is done mixing animation styles that not only look magnificent put together but might very well narrate a history of art.
From Mayan creatures with feathers and child like chalk drawings that function as maps, to Medieval tableaux combined with Gothic frames and Chinese shadow theater.
The lavish backgrounds done in pale watercolors and gold motives recall Klimt's greatest work and by the time the animators let us see the influence the Russian Soyuzdetmultfilm-Studio has on their work, we will probably be enthralled by the way they borrow from Eisenstein and Tarkovsky to frame each scene.
"The Secret of Kells", like the best of books, hypnotizes us with every turn of the page and its beauty is such that the lack of a better story, is minimized by the jaw-dropping marvel of its history.

In Bruges ***

Director: Martin McDonagh

Cast: Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes

Clémence Poésy, Jordan Prentice, Jérémie Renier, Thekla Reuten

After a job gone bad, hitmen, Ray (Farrell) and Ken (Gleeson) are sent by their boss, Harry Waters (Fiennes), to hide for a while and await further instruction in Bruges, Belgium.

For Ken, the medieval architecture and quaintness of the city comes to indulge his inner history buff, while for the emotionally unstable Ray it becomes a terrenal representation of whatever purgatory must feel like.

Things turn around when Ken receives orders to get rid of Ray, while Ray falls for a seductive drug dealer (Poésy).

Feature length debut by writer/director McDonagh, "In Bruges" is a well done pastiche of comedy, gangster and action that works mostly because of its inspired dialogue which at times is made out of offensive, racist and sexist remarks that somehow fit because of how true they remain to the characters uttering them.

McDonagh's theatrical background is felt throughout the film by the way in which the characters and settings are usually treated as symbols.

While Ray represents the conflicted conscience, Ken brings a sense of weird morality that we should be questioning because of its source and with the somber inclusion of Harry ends up having Shakespearean repercussions.

Influenced by classic noir (watching "Touch of Evil" play in the TV during one scene is enough to put a smile on your face) the movie owes itself to many gems of the cinematic style as much as it does to Tarantino and Scorsese.

Gleeson does a terrific job playing a sensitive mentor, while Fiennes goes into psychotic Amon Goeth mode to deliver a great star turn (his line about why he deserves a "normal gun for normal people" might be the most offensive thing you've heard in your entire life), the real surprise here though is Farrell who does more with his character than you'd ever expect.

While Ray is written as a guy who just killed someone he shouldn't have and has time to flirt and do girls, Farrell gives him a damaged soul that he can't hide despite his lines.

His combination of humor, sadness and humanity is outstanding.

With fast cuts, even faster lines and a droll sense of humor, the plot unfolds before your eyes in an almost surrealistic way which in a way might come from Bruges, which ends up being its most influential character.

The city, which has never gotten cinematic justice, comes to life as a sort of limbo where time has stood still. The Flemish jokes and clichés fly like bullets, but without this sense of timeless dread the hitmen wouldn't really have anything to work with.

It is because of the magic of Bruges that we even care about their problems, its "fairy tale" qualities as they call them, are what makes us believe that people like them deserve to have a second chance.