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Other Boleyn Girl, ThePhilippa Gregory's celebrated novel 'The Other Boleyn Girl' was a canny exercise in peering around the corners of history, finding a little-known character whose story was well worth exploring: in this case, Mary Boleyn, sister of the ill-fated Anne. Despite there being no shortage of intrigue, sex and politics in the reign of Henry VIII, here was a deliciously dastardly new dimension.
This adaptation adheres to Gregory's tale of skulduggery at court, and her assertion that Anne was not the first Boleyn girl to be whored to the king by her ambitious family. It's not sophisticated - even TV drama 'The Tudors' paid more attention to the complicated international politics of the time - and so is best viewed as no more than a historical romance, albeit one with the added frisson that comes from having an executioner waiting in the wings.
Knowing that the King (Bana) is estranged from his wife Catherine of Aragon, who has failed to bear him a male heir, Sir Thomas Boleyn (Rylance) and his brother the Duke of Norfolk (Morrissey) eye an opportunity to further their family position at court.
Their plan is for Anne (Portman) to seduce Henry and become his mistress - thus securing status and wealth for the lot of them. So vile are they, that when the King states his preference for the younger, married sister (Johansson), they casually pack her off to court instead.
Of course, Henry being a fickle tyrant, Anne gets her chance, each sister taking a turn as the "other Boleyn girl"; the difference being that Mary is genuinely in love with the king, the ruthless Anne stupid enough to insist on the crown.
This is the second adaptation of the book, the first being a very low-budget, rough-hewn TV affair. One might imagine that a big screen version, handsomely shot on HD and with A-list American stars would add gloss to, and so take the edge off, the awful behaviour. On the contrary, and to the film's credit, it is only writ larger, and in better costumes.
But while the film is a powerful indictment of rampant ambition, it falters badly on its romance. Johansson, who has this kind of gooey-eyed virtue off pat, is excellent (as are Scott Thomas as her mother, and Torrent as Catherine who, together with Mary, holds the moral centre of the film). Bana, though, has little to do other than brood like a spoilt brat; and Portman is surprisingly inadequate - capturing the spirited social climber but giving us no idea why the King would choose Anne over not only Mary, but the Pope too.
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