Penelope is a modern day romantic fairy tale about a family’s dark secret, an unfortunate curse, a journey of self-discovery and the transformative power of love. Oh, and let’s not forget a dangerous and irresponsible strike on adolescent girls’ already fragile self-esteem.

Thanks to some indiscrete hanky-panky among her ancestors, Penelope Wilhern (Christina Ricci), the daughter of wealthy socialites (Catherine O’Hara and Robert E. Grant), is cursed by a witch’s spell that can only be broken when she finds love. Desperate to break the curse, Penelope’s parents invite a string of suitors, each of whom generally end up throwing themselves out of the nearest window when meeting her. For you see, Penelope was born with the nose of a pig and has been hidden away in her family’s estate ever since.

Lemon (Peter Dinklage), a diminutive and mischievous tabloid reporter who has been sniffing around Penelope’s story ever since she was born, is eager for a picture of the mystifying shut-in. Lemon hires Max (James McAvoy), a handsome, down-on-his-luck gambler to pose as a prospective suitor and get the shot. Unlike the others, Max falls in love with Penelope’s vibrant spirit and charm. Embarrassed by his less-than-honorable intentions and not wanting to disappoint her, Max decides it is best to just disappear.

Feeling betrayed and fed up with her gilded cage, Penelope strikes out on her own, hooking up with Annie (Reese Witherspoon), a sassy, Vespa-riding firecracker who shows her the ways of the world. But with her face now splashed across newsstands, Penelope must decide whether to continue hiding or finally face the world as she truly is.

Penelope is a Tim Burton-influenced fable that at times reminded me of TV’s beguiling Pushing Daisies. It creates a richly imagined, eccentric, vibrantly colorful world, borrowing architecture from old-world stately streets and modern city skylines, as well as accents from across England and America.

Ricci, who has always had a talent for containing both light and dark, gives a disarming performance as the heartbroken but plucky heroine. The affable McAvoy (who appears to have inherited the everywhere-you-turn mantle from Jude Law) tosses around a convincing American accent along with his disheveled charm. O’Hara is forlornly funny as Penelope’s overbearing mother who is so intent on finding her daughter love that she has neglected to give it herself. Witherspoon, who also produced the film, is enjoyable despite almost inconsequential screentime. But it is Dinklage, who first came to prominence in the pleasurable The Station Agent, who steals the show as a man with physical differences of his own.

Penelope’s plot is pretty by-the-book fairytale stuff. There are no real surprises or unforeseen plot twists here. And yet, the film’s “happy ever after” premise rubbed me the wrong way.

At the end of the first Shrek, Princess Fiona is encased in an orb of incandescent light, destined, as her curse suggests, to transform into her true self after a kiss from her true love. When the light fades, Fiona is not changed into a human being after all, but instead remains her ogre self.

“But, I don’t understand,” she says, “I’m supposed to be beautiful.”

“But you are beautiful,” Shrek tells her lovingly.

There was always something marvelous about that scene. Rather than taking the cheap and superficial way out, the filmmakers behind Shrek told us that real beauty lies beneath the skin and true love adores us for what we are on the inside. Unfortunately, Penelope only masquerades as a film about self-acceptance and liking ourselves for who we are. It seems to suggest that, while what’s on the inside may matter more than what’s on the outside, it sure does help matters if you look just like everyone else. And that is a subtle, but dangerous, distinction.

© Copyright 2008 Brandon Fibbs. All rights reserved.