Arts & Entertainment
A man’s world
Glenn Close’s pet project explores societal advantages of gender

Aaron Johnson, left, and Glenn Close in the gender-bending 19th century drama ‘Albert Nobbs.’ Close and co-star Janet McTeer are both nominated for Oscars for their performances. (Still courtesy Roadside Attractions)
“Albert Nobbs” is a complex movie about a simple man with grand dreams — and a big secret.
The fastidious Mr. Nobbs works as a waiter at a posh Irish hotel. He carefully tracks the tips he receives from his stylish clients, saving up to buy a tobacconist’s shop (even though he does not know how to smoke or even roll a cigarette). He lives a quiet lonely life, carefully locking the door to his Spartan room, wandering the streets of 19th century Dublin looking like an early version of Charlie Chaplin’s Tramp and squirreling away his growing stockpile beneath a loose floorboard.
All that changes when he is briefly forced to share his room with Hubert Page, a painter who has been hired to spruce up the hotel. The two men soon realize they share a secret — both are really women who have dressed as men to escape poverty and sexual violence.
The two women embody very different modes of masculine behavior. Nobbs, played by Glenn Close, declares that “life without decency is unbearable.” She binds herself in a scratchy undergarment, dresses in formal clothing and seems to vanish into the background, watching the action around her rather than participating.
On the other hand, Page, played by Janet McTeer, employs a different strategy. She disguises herself in a set of baggy clothes stolen from her abusive husband. Page swaggers through life, smoking, flirting with women and slapping men on the back. In fact, Page has married a woman, leaving a mystified Nobbs wondering, but too timid to ask, how Page told his wife about his sexual identity.
Inspired by Page, Nobbs expands his dream. He envisions taking on a wife who can provide companionship, respectability and free labor for the shop. He starts “walking out” with one of the maids, not realizing she is already having an affair with the handyman at the hotel. Nobbs is too busy fantasizing about their life together and wondering when he will reveal his own secret.
Both Close and McTeer offer vibrant portrayals of women forced to live their lives as men, making clear and interesting choices about the fascinating similarities and differences between their two characters. Close has a long history with the character. She created the role onstage in 1982, and since then has worked to bring the material to cinematic life. She produced the movie, co-wrote the screenplay with award-winning Irish novelist John Banville and Gabriella Prekop and even provided the lyrics for “Lay Your Head Down,” the lovely ballad that closes the movie (which opens today in Washington).
The press materials describe Nobbs as “trapped in a prison of her own making,” but that seems rather inaccurate, although there is a scene where Nobbs and Page put on dresses and Nobbs runs giddily along the shore.
Nobbs is not simply a straight woman masquerading as a man to get by, but somewhere on the trans spectrum. He shows no sexual interest in men. His interest in women is more social and economic than sexual, but he is obsessed with the question of when to reveal his true sex to Helen (even though he never touches her and he does not realize that Helen and her beau are just milking him for gifts) and the mystery of when Page revealed his true sex to his wife Kathleen, so he thinks about having an intimate physical relationship of some kind with a woman.
The film — which is more interested in telling Nobbs’ story than identifying his gender identity — deals with these murky issues with a velvet touch. Even the rape and poverty mentioned as part of his story are discussed but not shown.
Close and McTeer are surrounded by a strong supporting cast and crew including Mia Wasikowska as the calculating maid who is the object of Nobbs’ affection, Pauline Collins as the affected proprietress of Morrison’s Hotel and Brendan Gleeson as the kindly doctor who lives at the hotel.
Jonathan Rhys Meyers appears all too briefly as a party-loving and occasionally gender-bending aristocratic guest at the hotel. Designers Patrizia von Brandenstein and Pierre-Yves Gayraud lovingly recreate period Dublin in rich detail and director Rodrigo Garcia (known for HBO’s “In Treatment”) directs with a sure if somewhat too steady hand (the movie could have used a little less of Nobbs’ timidity and a little more of Page’s bravado). Nonetheless, “Albert Nobbs” is an interesting consideration of class and gender that sheds a gentle light on both a remarkable character and our own times.
Drag artists perform for crowds in towns across Virginia. The photographer follows Gerryatrick, Shenandoah, Climaxx, Emerald Envy among others over eight months as they perform at venues in the Virginia towns of Staunton, Harrisonburg and Fredericksburg.
(Washington Blade photos by Landon Shackelford)



















Books
New book explores homosexuality in ancient cultures
‘Queer Thing About Sin’ explains impact of religious credo in Greece, Rome
‘The Queer Thing About Sin’
By Harry Tanner
c.2025, Bloomsbury
$28/259 pages
Nobody likes you very much.
That’s how it seems sometimes, doesn’t it? Nobody wants to see you around, they don’t want to hear your voice, they can’t stand the thought of your existence and they’d really rather you just go away. It’s infuriating, and in the new book “The Queer Thing About Sin” by Harry Tanner, you’ll see how we got to this point.
When he was a teenager, Harry Tanner says that he thought he “was going to hell.”
For years, he’d been attracted to men and he prayed that it would stop. He asked for help from a lay minister who offered Tanner websites meant to repress his urges, but they weren’t the panacea Tanner hoped for. It wasn’t until he went to college that he found the answers he needed and “stopped fearing God’s retribution.”
Being gay wasn’t a sin. Not ever, but he “still wanted to know why Western culture believed it was for so long.”
Historically, many believe that older men were sexual “mentors” for teenage boys, but Tanner says that in ancient Greece and Rome, same-sex relationships were common between male partners of equal age and between differently-aged pairs, alike. Clarity comes by understanding relationships between husbands and wives then, and careful translation of the word “boy,” to show that age wasn’t a factor, but superiority and inferiority were.
In ancient Athens, queer love was considered to be “noble” but after the Persians sacked Athens, sex between men instead became an acceptable act of aggression aimed at conquered enemies. Raping a male prisoner was encouraged but, “Gay men became symbols of a depraved lack of self-control and abstinence.”
Later Greeks believed that men could turn into women “if they weren’t sufficiently virile.” Biblical interpretations point to more conflict; Leviticus specifically bans queer sex but “the Sumerians actively encouraged it.” The Egyptians hated it, but “there are sporadic clues that same-sex partners lived together in ancient Egypt.”
Says Tanner, “all is not what it seems.”
So you say you’re not really into ancient history. If it’s not your thing, then “The Queer Thing About Sin” won’t be, either.
Just know that if you skip this book, you’re missing out on the kind of excitement you get from reading mythology, but what’s here is true, and a much wider view than mere folklore. Author Harry Tanner invites readers to go deep inside philosophy, religion, and ancient culture, but the information he brings is not dry. No, there are major battles brought to life here, vanquished enemies and death – but also love, acceptance, even encouragement that the citizens of yore in many societies embraced and enjoyed. Tanner explains carefully how religious credo tied in with homosexuality (or didn’t) and he brings readers up to speed through recent times.
While this is not a breezy vacation read or a curl-up-with-a-blanket kind of book, “The Queer Thing About Sin” is absolutely worth spending time with. If you’re a thinking person and can give yourself a chance to ponder, you’ll like it very much.
Theater
‘Octet’ explores the depths of digital addiction
Habits not easily shaken in Studio Theatre chamber musical
‘Octet’
Through Feb. 26
Studio Theatre
1501 14th Street, N.W.
Tickets start at $55
Studiotheatre.org
David Malloy’s “Octet” delves deep into the depths of digital addiction.
Featuring a person ensemble, this extraordinary a capella chamber musical explores the lives of recovering internet addicts whose lives have been devastated by digital dependency; sharing what’s happened and how things have changed.
Dressed in casual street clothes, the “Friends of Saul” trickle into a church all-purpose room, check their cell phones in a basket, put away the bingo tables, and arrange folding chairs into a circle. Some may stop by a side table offering cookies, tea, and coffee before taking a seat.
The show opens with “The Forest,” a haunting hymn harking back to the good old days of an analog existence before glowing screens, incessant pings and texts.
“The forest was beautiful/ My head was clean and clear/Alone without fear/ The forest was safe/ I danced like a beautiful fool / One time some time.”
Mimicking an actual step meeting, there’s a preamble. And then the honest sharing begins, complete with accounts of sober time and slips.
Eager to share, Jessica (Chelsea Williams) painfully recalls being cancelled after the video of her public meltdown went viral. Henry (Angelo Harrington II) is a gay gamer with a Candy Crush problem. Toby (Adrian Joyce) a nihilist who needs to stay off the internet sings “So anyway/ I’m doing good/ Mostly/ Limiting my time/ Mostly.”
The group’s unseen founder Saul is absent, per usual.
In his stead Paula, a welcoming woman played with quiet compassion by Tracy Lynn Olivera, leads. She and her husband no longer connect. They bring screens to bed. In a love-lost ballad, she explains: “We don’t sleep well/ My husband I/ Our circadian rhythms corrupted/ By the sallow blue glow of a screen/ Sucking souls and melatonin/ All of my dreams have been stolen.”
After too much time spent arguing with strangers on the internet, Marvin, a brainy young father played by David Toshiro Crane, encounters the voice of a God.
Ed (Jimmy Kieffer) deals with a porn addiction. Karly (Ana Marcu) avoids dating apps, a compulsion compared to her mother’s addiction to slot machines.
Malloy, who not only wrote the music but also the smart lyrics, book, and inventive vocal arrangements, brilliantly joins isolation with live harmony. It’s really something.
And helmed by David Muse, “Octet” is a precisely, quietly, yet powerfully staged production, featuring a topnotch cast who (when not taking their moment in the spotlight) use their voices to make sounds and act as a sort of Greek chorus. Mostly on stage throughout all of the 100-minute one act, they demonstrate impressive stamina and concentration.
An immersive production, “Octet” invites audience members to feel a part of the meeting. Studio’s Shargai Theatre is configured, for the first, in the round. And like the characters, patrons must also unplug. Everyone is required to have their phones locked in a small pouch (that only ushers are able to open and close), so be prepared for a wee bit of separation anxiety.
At the end of the meeting, the group surrenders somnambulantly. They know they are powerless against internet addiction. But group newbie Velma (Amelia Aguilar) isn’t entirely convinced. She remembers the good tech times.
In a bittersweet moment, she shares of an online friendship with “a girl in Sainte Marie / Just like me.”
Habits aren’t easily shaken.
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