* * 1/2

Natalie Portman, Scarlett Johansson, Eric Bana, Mark Rylance, Kristin Scott-Thomas, David Morrissey, Jim Sturgess. Screenplay by Peter Morgan, based on the novel by Philippa Gregory. Directed by Justin Chadwick. Rated PG-13. 115 minutes.

The Other Boleyn Girl, based on the best-selling novel by Philippa Gregory and charting the 16^th century scandal between King Henry VIII and two young mistresses caught up in a power play for the throne, is a ripe melodrama rooted in historical fact and mounted with sensationalistic panache. As historical dramas go, it’s a notch below 2007’s similarly soapy Elizabeth: The Golden Age. But as a high-gloss piece of tawdriness, it often works.

Directed by first-timer Justin Chadwick from a screenplay by Peter Morgan (The Queen), The Other Boleyn Girl begins circa 1521, where it comes to the attention of the middle-class Boleyn family that King Henry VIII (Eric Bana), after numerous unsuccessful attempts to produce a son and heir with Queen Catherine, has a bit of a dilemma.

To the dismay of wife Lady Elizabeth (Kristin Scott-Thomas), a plan is hatched by Sir Thomas Boleyn (Mark Rylance) and the Duke of Norfolk (David Morrissey), also uncle to the Boleyn children, to offer the services of fetching daughter Anne (Natalie Portman), securing the family’s position in the process.

Naïve, younger sister Mary (Scarlett Johannson), is to marry a simple townsman until she also catches the king’s wandering eye, and soon all are invited to live at court before an unexpected turn of events results in a passionate love affair between the king—and already betrothed Mary.

Incensed Anne, perceived a sensual distraction, is abruptly shipped off to France before being summoned back to keep the randy king company after pregnant sister Mary is confined to bed rest—and you can see where this is going. When Mary delivers a daughter and quickly falls out of fortune, Anne reclaims the king’s desires as retribution against her simpler sister, banishing Mary from court and orchestrating a seduction that ultimately removes the reigning queen and leads to the excommunication of the king.

But her ascension has a steep price, and unpopular Anne is also required to produce the heir—or seal her own fate should she fail. Coming up short with the fickle king (drawn here as having no affairs of state to contend with, only sexual ones), she attempts to save her own life through a series of dangerous deceptions. And it is here that the film comes to life, if a bit too late.

The Other Boleyn Girl, with its eroticism, lost innocence and power struggles behind the closed doors of the monarchy, is intended as a high-toned indictment of social ambition and sexual politics, ensnaring the lives of the Boleyn youth, including sexually ambiguous brother George (appealing Jim Sturgess) who goes right to the edge of family loyalty in an effective late scene. But it plays more like an episode of Dynasty, all burning emotions and little substance. Love, it is argued, is of no value and will destroy you, while power and position are the real keys to survival. The characters serve this theme, rather than vice versa.

As successfully as screenwriter Peter Morgan was able to detail the inner world of Elizabeth II in Stephen Frears’ The Queen, his royal subjects largely elude him here. The film is a densely plotted string of turgid episodes that do little to look deeply enough inside its young women, struggling to survive in a world controlled by fathers, uncles, husbands and kings.  Since the plot-driven film doesn’t bother to establish the Boleyn girls as very dimensional, they remain as much pawns of Morgan’s script as of their own worlds.

The Other Boleyn Girl has top-notch production values and is acted with integrity by a particularly fine Portman who really convinces, both as a comely teen and cunning manipulator. It is a complex performance, not quite matched by Johansson, who suffers from a character inherently good and simple, therefore less interesting in this volley of one-upsmanship.

While The Other Boleyn Girl may not achieve the high art to which it aspires, its trashy compensations entertain nonetheless.

-Lee Shoquist