Now, the old adage of never letting the truth get in the way of a good story has to be applied to this rather well made, but otherwise pretty shallow dramatisation of the life of England's infamous King Henry VIII. Ray Winstone is efficient in the title role, but his style of acting reverts to bluster all to often - fine in a crime thriller, or as the cheeky East Londoner, but somehow just not great here. The associated characterisations are really all pretty flat, too - Joss Ackland has a decent stab at the role of his ruthless father Henry VII, but Charles Dance's Duke of Buckingham, David Suchet's Cardinal Wolsey and the headline-grabbing Anne Boleyn (Helena Bonham Cater) just don't work well enough at all to recreate the sense of peril, lust - for power and sex - and danger at this colourful, but lethal Tudor court. Nor do we really get from the pen of Peter Morgan, any sense of depth to their complex and volatile personas - no sense at all of what made them tick. It looks great, the settings at some of Engand's finest stately homes add richness to the quality of the production, but the narrative dwells way too long on the superficialities of the second wife, with little focus on the remainder of his lifetime, an of his subsequent four marriages. It certainly isn't an history lesson - loads of licence taken, much of which is forgivable given this is a drama, but it could have been so much more...
