Nothing really spectacular about this film, except Natalie Portman, the costumes (loved 'em) and the lengths they went to to romanticize the story of Anne, Mary and that philandering Henry VIII. Well, the latter (the romanticizing, not Henry VIII's philandering) might've been Philippa Gregory's fault. Anyway.
Portman as Anne Boleyn was perfection--history writes Anne off as dark-haired, 5 feet and 3 inches tall, flat-chested, well-educated and headstrong, and Portman's portrayal of the role was more than satisfactory. Anne Boleyn must've been--or rather, was--an advocate of girl power, long before it became the fashion to be one. Imagine twirling the king of England around her little finger and being one of the pivotal figures in transforming the country's history! Oh, the feats women take on! I'm hoping Scarlett Johansson (Mary Boleyn) learned a thing or two from both Portman and Anne. You think Mary Boleyn wore only two expressions her entire life?
And Henry VIII, oh where do I begin? He's always been portrayed in paintings as this very heavy-set, very fat and sour-looking king. And then here comes Eric Bana. Like, hello? Didn't make sense at all. Plus he, too, worked on jut two facial expressions in the entire length of the movie. I think it might've worked if he had ended up with Scarlett, heehee.
Lots of blood in the movie, too. So a lot of women back then either died in childbirth or had stillbirths. Probably because they didn't have pre-natal care yet, in those times. I feel lucky.
And there you have it.
Ho-hum. Definitely not a movie I'd recommend.
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