As we are introduced to Albert and his unique circumstance, we see the promise of a narrative that could explore a Victorian period loaded with personal secrets and societal taboos (sort of like a Gosford Park-lite). The film's namesake works as a butler at a posh bed and breakfast that attracts a wide swath of upscale clientele. In the film's first act, we are immersed into the world of this hotel, with its aging diva owner (Pauline Collins) rubbing elbows with her high-society guests while "the help" carouses below, spreading gossip about the swanky upstairs parties while engaging in some sketchy behavior of their own. These early sequences, rendered with good humor by a talented cast, flirt with the prospects of illuminating the interpersonal politics of Victorian-era Ireland, with explicit class subjugation, hidden upstairs/downstairs affairs, and the hope of progress stymied by harsh inevitability.

Unfortunately, the story quickly takes a dour, insipid turn, focusing on Albert's quest for personal freedom in the most shallow, formulaic manner possible. When he is directed to share his room with the hotel's new housepainter, Hubert Page (Janet McTeer), Albert's secret is accidentally revealed in a fumbling mishap. However, he finds an unexpected kindred soul upon discovering that Page, too, is a woman living as a man -- and doing so with a carefree zeal that Albert can only imagine. Page's story -- of abandoning an abusive spouse, setting out independently as a man, and then marrying a wonderful woman who was willing to go along with the ruse -- bolsters Albert's already-dreamlike visions of independent life. Can he truly accomplish his dream of opening a tobacco shop and court a feisty young hotel maid (Mia Wasikowska) to be his willing life partner?

These questions are answered in ambling sequences of varying discomfort, since the film seems hellbent on pandering for an emotional outpouring it never earns. As Wasikowska's immature maid permits a smitten Albert to waste long-saved money buying her affectionate gifts, she also carries on a passionate affair with the film's diabolical villain, Joe Macken (Aaron Johnson), a greedy crook with designs on swindling enough of Albert's charity to make a life in New York. The screenplay's designs on building unearned tension are increasingly cloying, abandoning the observational tone of the first act for pre-ordained plot mechanics calculated to make us squirm. Its eventual tragic "climax" feels like a tacked-on sympathy play and the bittersweet denouement is intended as serendipitous but feels entirely engineered.

Close is wonderful in the title role, delivering an inward, calm, restrained performance that avoids any overt emotional trappings...except in those unfortunate sequences where she's made to speak Albert's inner monologues in stilted soliloquy. She is surrounded by a uniformly great supporting cast, from Wasikowska and McTeer in prominent roles to Brendan Gleeson and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers in extended cameos. Actors this strong could deliver much more than is asked from them by this shallow, manipulative screenplay, which has the potential to explore the intricacies of class and gender inequities but mires in manufactured tragedy and faux-profound moralizing.