Penelope: A lot of heart, not enough edge
Release date: 29 Feb 2008
By Jerilyn Covert
Once upon a time is a loaded phrase. Pregnant with the expectations that have become embedded in our consciousness with all the force of a thousand bedtime stories–that there will be a love story, a lesson learned and a happy ending. But within the first few minutes of Penelope, we the viewers are forced to renegotiate these terms. The birth of a bastard, a physical anomaly and the feigned death of a child occur all within the opening sequence. Then we meet our stars–the exquisitely tragic Christina Ricci, the endearingly kooky Catherine O’Hara, the charmingly rogue James McAvoy. Then there’s the look of the movie. The particular camera angles and stylized dress make it clear early on why the director, Mark Palansky, has drawn comparisons to Tim Burton.
Penelope Wilhern (Ricci) is a young aristocratic heiress under a witch’s curse that can only be broken by one of her own kind. So her mother (O’Hara) does the only logical thing: She fakes her daughter’s death, locks her away like a princess in a tower and begins the long search for her future son-in-law. High-society bluebloods parade before Penelope on the other side of a two-way mirror like puffed-up white knights on king’s orders to rescue the damsel in distress. Unfortunately, most of them are more interested in collecting Penelope’s dowry than falling in love with her. And after witnessing her deformity–a pig snout–the only thing they’re interested in is bolting for the door, although not before being made to sign a gag order. One day one of them gets away without signing (Edward Vanderman played by Simon Woods) and his hysterical ranting gets him locked up and sullies his good name.
Lucky for him, a newspaper reporter (Peter Dinklage) who has his own retribution to pay overhears his story. The two plot a sting operation, but they need a certified blueblood to infiltrate the house where Penelope is kept under lock and key. Enter the shaggy-haired Max Campion (McAvoy), a riches-to-rags type who has gambled his once vast family fortune away and agrees to obtain a snapshot of Penelope in exchange for $5,000. Easy enough. There’s just one problem–he ends up falling for the girl instead. See? We knew there’d be a love story.
But the moral of the story is not so much about finding someone else to love you, as it is about learning to love yourself. Max can’t help Penelope; he’s got his own demons to contend with. Penelope can only help herself, because it’s only after you’ve accepted yourself for who you are that others will return the favor. Perhaps it’s not a bad message, but it’s also not quite believable amidst a tale that’s too straightforward and not nearly as tragic as it should be.
Ricci with a pig nose is a far, far cry from the Elephant Man. And for having suffered such a screwed-up childhood, Penelope sure manages to break free from her prison with relative ease. Access to your mother’s MasterCard probably helps. So does being best friends with Reese Witherspoon, who plays the fun and freewheeling Annie who will let you ride her Vespa if you get a little tipsy with her and compliment her ears.
It’s not as if Penelope is without its moments–and its surprises. And as the work of an emerging filmmaker, it’s not a bad effort at all. But for me, I had found myself wanting a tragic comedy, and Penelope was neither tragic, nor for that matter very funny. If it were a recipe, it would have too much sugar and not enough salt. If it were a photograph, it would have too much light, not enough shadow. And as an offbeat love story framed in a fairytale, Penelope presents as just a little too Disney, and not quite enough Edward Scissorhands.