Christina Ricci dons a prosthetic pig's nose for the title role of Penelope, a film about a young woman bearing the brunt of her family's curse. The curse can be broken only when “one of their own kind”, ie, a blue-blooded aristo, “claims this daughter as their own” or when Ricci gets around to sacking the agent who is advising her to take films like this.

A modern-day fairytale, the film is tarted up like a hyperactive five-year-old's lurid fantasy of interior decor. Penelope's world is dressed with velvet and ribbons, birds and butterflies and weird trompe-l'oeil windows. It's a riot of desperate atmospherics, smoke and mirrors to conceal the fact that nobody in the film has much conviction in the story. James McAvoy slums it as the young man down on his luck who sees the beautiful person behind the porky façade, but the message that looks are not important is undermined by the fact that Ricci lives happily ever after - without the snout.

U, 90mins

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