Films like The Other Boleyn Girl occupy a precarious position in historical drama. They claim to be fictionalised entertainment, but they also shape public perceptions of historical figures. With a film as sensationalised and historically inaccurate as this one, it feels almost unfair to judge it purely on its history. However, dismissing its inaccuracies entirely in favour of its value as fiction would be equally one-sided.

Yes, this is not intended to be a perfect window into the past – its genre as historical fiction makes that clear. However, I cannot ignore the importance of historical accuracy in media. Films are one of the most influential ways the public engages with history; they shape opinions and cement reputations. If Anne Boleyn is shown as a manic, incestuous schemer in a film, that is how many will remember her. Media holds immense power in representing historical figures, and it’s for this reason that I cannot love – or even like – this film. I can tolerate it. I can appreciate what it tried to be. But I cannot accept it.

I’ve never hidden my dislike for this film, which I first watched reluctantly for my undergraduate dissertation. I disliked it so much that I rated it half a star on Letterboxd and left a strongly opinionated review. While I won’t dive into that here, I will say that my feelings haven’t softened much. That said, I did manage to appreciate a little more on my second watch, but I can’t imagine sitting through it a third time. Not anytime soon, anyway.

Since this is the first proper review I’ve written in this format, please forgive any rough edges. Reviews are a new experience for me (outside of Letterboxd), and while I promise to improve, staying authentic to my voice is important. After all, reviews are inherently opinionated, and you might disagree with what I say. You may even think that The Other Boleyn Girl is the greatest historical drama ever made, to which I say… we can’t be friends. I’m joking, of course 😁. Differences of opinion are what make discussions so engaging, and I’d love to hear your thoughts, whether you agree or disagree.

Without further ado, let’s get into the review. I’ll share my thoughts – both the good and the bad. We’ll start with the positives, because, quite frankly, there aren’t a lot.

The opening scene depicting the young Boleyn siblings playing together was beautifully done. Watching Anne, Mary, and George as carefree children was a bittersweet reminder of the tragedy that awaited them. Seeing them in this innocent state added depth to their later fates: Anne and George’s executions and Mary’s quiet disappearance from history. While the historical inaccuracies begin almost immediately, this moment was poignant and emotionally effective. It reminded me of a similar scene in The Tudors, where Anne reminisces about her childhood, her younger self playing with her brother and Father whilst she sits waiting for her execution. This was one of my favourite scenes in The Tudors, and in The Other Boleyn Girl too. It was one of those scenes that was heartbreaking in its simplicity.

Another highlight was Elizabeth Boleyn, played brilliantly by Kristin Scott Thomas. Her portrayal was refreshing in a film where many characters felt one-dimensional. As the Boleyn matriarch, she brought a feminist perspective and a sharp, critical voice to the story. Lines like, “That she may be traded like cattle for the advancement and amusement of men?” added an almost modern lens to the story, but it didn’t feel out of place for her character. Her emotional reaction to Anne and George’s executions was a standout moment, showing the deep sorrow and helplessness of a mother witnessing the destruction of her family.

On the casting front, Natalie Portman as Anne Boleyn was a mixed bag. While the script failed her in many ways, Portman’s performance hinted at what could have been a truly compelling Anne. With a stronger script and better direction, she might have rivalled portrayals like Natalie Dormer’s in The Tudors or Geneviève Bujold’s in Anne of the Thousand Days. It’s a shame that the material didn’t do her justice.

The emotional goodbye between Anne and Mary before Anne’s execution was another bright spot. While historically inaccurate (we don’t know where Mary was that day, but she almost certainly wasn’t at the Tower), the scene captured Anne’s fear and sorrow in a way that felt genuine. Mary’s attempt to comfort her sister – despite the impossibility of her situation – was deeply moving. It’s a pity the film didn’t explore this kind of sisterly bond more often, as it would have been far more engaging than the forced rivalry we were given.

The final positive thing I have to say is that I appreciated the film’s attempt to explore Mary Boleyn’s relationship with Henry VIII. While it fell into the tired trope of her being pushed into the affair by her ambitious family, it still added some depth to Mary’s character and context to her rivalry with Anne. I don’t think it was an accurate depiction by any means, but at least it gave the sisters’ tension some motive.

Unfortunately, the positives end there.

The film’s characterisation of Anne and Mary as polar opposites – Anne as the scheming vixen and Mary as the undeserving victim – was almost unbearable. Historical evidence about their relationship is scarce, but it’s hard to imagine them behaving like spiteful, petty children. This overly simplistic dichotomy robbed both characters of depth and ignored the complexities of their real lives.

The incest storyline, however, was the film’s most egregious offence. While the film stops short of depicting Anne and George committing incest, the mere suggestion that Anne, a devout woman, would propose such a thing is both implausible and offensive. It’s a gross distortion of her character and faith, sensationalised purely for shock value. Moreover, George Boleyn, like his sister, was also deeply religious. Too often, the focus is placed solely on Anne, and the five men executed alongside her are overlooked. George, on account of his faith, would never have considered such a repugnant act.

Anne’s portrayal on the scaffold was another missed opportunity. Historically, Anne faced her execution with remarkable composure, delivering a dignified final speech. The film instead shows her as tearful and unstable, undermining her bravery and composure. While this portrayal fits the characterisation of Anne throughout the film, it fails to represent the real Anne Boleyn. That being said, it was refreshing to see the filmmakers pay attention to historical detail in Anne’s clothing. As far as I’m aware, the outfit she wore in this scene closely matches contemporary descriptions of her attire on her execution day.

The inaccuracies pile up elsewhere: Anne’s supposed marriage and consummation with Henry Percy, her unstable and erratic behaviour, her being labelled a “witch”, and her suggestion to burn a miscarried child are all fabrications. These distortions don’t just stray from history – they actively harm Anne’s legacy by reinforcing false stereotypes.

The film also glosses over Anne’s political and cultural significance. Her seven-year courtship with Henry VIII, her role in the English Reformation, and her influence as queen are reduced to a rushed, shallow narrative that fails to capture anything that she stood for. Anne was a complex figure – intelligent, ambitious, charismatic, deeply influential, and, yes, flawed – but this film removes her essence and reduces her to nothing short of a caricature.

Had this film been presented as pure fiction, inspired by but not beholden to Tudor history, it might have worked. The characterisation of Anne, with her moments of stress and near-manic desperation as she fears losing Henry – and with him, her power and even her life – could have been genuinely compelling had they not labelled the character as Anne Boleyn. There were undeniably tense and emotional moments that showcased a woman under immense pressure.

Unfortunately, these moments were overshadowed by the film’s dramatised additions, like the incest plot and Jane Boleyn working with the Duke of Norfolk to bring her husband down. These narrative choices, presented as if they were historical fact, undermine any potential for the film to be taken seriously, even as historical fiction.

The Other Boleyn Girl is, at best, a melodramatic soap opera masquerading as a historical drama. While it has moments of emotional resonance and some strong performances, it fails spectacularly as a representation of Tudor history. Its reliance on sensationalism and historical distortions does a disservice to the real people it attempts to portray.

For fans of Tudor history, this film will likely be a frustrating watch. Even casual viewers may struggle to connect with its exaggerated, histrionic narrative. If you’re looking for a nuanced portrayal of Anne Boleyn and her family, I’d suggest looking elsewhere.

Rating

1/5