Narrative features in which a character successfully passes him- or herself off as the opposite sex are typically faced with an inherent uphill slog. Not only is the film asking us as viewers to buy this occasionally laughable pretense, but we're also expected to take it on faith that not one of the individual's day-to-day familiars has been able to spot the often obvious flim-flam. And though relative anonymity can sometimes help (like it did Hilary Swank in "Boys Don't Cry"), facelessness is no longer an option for Glenn Close. The six-time Oscar nominee stars under layers of restrictive prosthetics as the oddly uninvolving title character in "Albert Nobbs," a shabbily constructed downer about a woman living as a man in late 19th-century Dublin.

Albert works in service at a posh hotel that has seen swankier times, and we watch as he spends his days quietly attending to the guests. Albert's evenings are mostly devoted to counting the money he's squirreled away in hopes of opening a little shop, until one particular night when he's forced to share his room with a visiting painter, who discovers the panicked Albert's secret. But, as he vividly demonstrates, the strapping Hubert (Oscar nominee Janet McTeer, "Tumbleweeds") has an especially busty secret of his own, along with an enthusiastic wife, which leads the initially shocked Albert to wonder if maybe he too might find a bride and settle down. So Albert sets his sights on the saucy chambermaid Helen (Mia Wasikowska, "The Kids Are Alright"), even though she's already entangled with Joe (Aaron Johnson, "Kick-Ass"), the volatile handyman.

And while the setup is inspired, at this point "Albert Nobbs" begins asking more questions than it answers, simply because the main character is so underwritten. Albert is inconspicuous by design, his job in service practically demanding that he not be noticed. But that impassivity doesn't work since Albert's dilemma, namely how to be who you are, is the film's focus. Albert confides to Hubert the tragic circumstances that led to his current life as a man - and please bear with the pronoun conundrum here - but Close's immovable latex face renders Albert such a sphinx that his present motives remain unclear. He gives no indication that he's interested in sex, so what does the presumably worldly Albert plan to do with a beautiful young wife? Are his reasons as selfish and fraudulent as those of the reluctant golddigger Helen?

"Albert Nobbs" is clearly a passion project for Close, who starred in the 1982 stage production and enjoys both screenwriting and producing credits here. Her director is Rodrigo García, a deft handler of ensembles (such as 2009's underappreciated "Mother and Child") whose work here is only okay, failing to establish any engaging mood or tone. But towering over García's cast of UK ringers like Pauline Collins ("Shirley Valentine"), Oscar winner Brenda Fricker ("My Left Foot"), and a very woolly Brendan Gleeson is the 6'1" McTeer, delivering a thoughtful, swaggering performance that makes you wish the movie were more deserving of it. Her Hubert is fully fleshed out, a lusty and unapologetic lesbian who unfortunately makes the nondescript Mr. Nobbs seem like - forgive me - kind of a drag.