The premise of a poor little rich girl who is cursed with a pig nose until one of her own can truly love her has the potential to ignite a successful feature film, especially when the film stars Christina Ricci fitted with an adorable pig snout, whimsical costumes, and a dreamy love interest. But Mark Palansky’s “Penelope,” opening today, suffers from an incurable bout of flat writing.

Ms. Ricci plays the title character, whose porcine characteristics are the result of a curse placed on her blue-blooded family for its horrid classism. According to family lore, many generations ago, when the Wilhern family objected to the pairing of their son with one of their servants, the shunned girl ended up dead and her mother left the family with a curse that their next daughter would be afflicted with a pig nose until she could win the heart of “one of her own.” But it takes generations for a Wilhern to produce a female heir, and when it does, the result is Ms. Ricci’s sweet, modern-day Penelope. Her mother, played with delusional grandeur by Catharine O’Hara, cannot see past the superficial rituals of wealth. Disgusted by her daughter’s deformity, Jessica Wilhern locks Penelope away from the prying eye of the press in an attempt to spare her the public humiliation. When Penelope is old enough, Mrs. Wilhern begins a long and fruitless search for a suitor. But the rich young potentials are disgusted by Penelope’s visage and flee in hordes. That is, until Max (James McAvoy), a supposedly down-on-his-luck aristocrat, comes calling.

The story boasts all the pieces of a magical modern fairy tale. Ms. Ricci looks absolutely darling with her prosthetic, and Mr. McAvoy has a charm that more than makes up for his poorly mussed hair and strangely scruffy beard. The Scottish heartthrob has chosen a raspy baritone for his American accent, and though it slips occasionally, it’s still nice to listen to him speak. Mr. McAvoy may lack the chiseled features of most Hollywood hunks, but he has a magnetism that pulls through the screen. As he proved in “Atonement” and reiterates here, the man knows how to give a powerful screen kiss.

The costumes and scenery set the stage for some Tim Burtonesque whimsy, but the film’s inherent strengths only underscore its weaknesses. Reese Witherspoon is strangely out of place as Penelope’s new friend, Annie. Providing a hackneyed bit of girl power and 1980s punk energy to the film, Annie’s role is underwritten and not terribly useful. Richard E. Grant is left to wilt in the background as Penelope’s father, and the marvelous Ms. O’Hara is similarly misused. The film holds her comedic talent against her, leaving Mrs. Wilhern to sputter and nag into obscurity. Attempting to show how a mother’s best intentions can stand in the way of her daughter’s happiness, “Penelope” eventually shows how terrible life can be if your mother doesn’t actually love you.

The moral here is that the young woman at its center needs only to love herself “just the way I am.” But if that held true in the film, “Penelope” would have a vastly different ending, and the film would have been the better for it. Ms. Ricci’s pug-nosed heroine was practically perfect in every way, and just as soon as the film starts to realize that, it “fixes” her and negates its message. “Penelope” has been delayed for almost two years, and the bumpy landing starts to explain why. The film shows that even if you profess to boost the self-esteem of young girls, the means you choose can have quite the opposite effect.

mkeane@nysun.com