The Lion in Autumn

Anne of the Thousand Days appears to have been made for one person: the Queen of England. Though it exhibits its royalty rampant on a field of anguish, the film provides a thoroughly upbeaten ending. Cannons resound as Queen Anne Boleyn is beheaded. Henry VIII hears the signal, puts spur to horse and gallops off "to Mistress Seymour's house!" All the while, the future Virgin Queen placidly wanders the palace gardens, toddling toward history. The monarchical fevers are burning out; and England, booms the sound track, is ready for the high triumphs of Elizabeth Regina.

It is a story fit for the second Elizabeth, though it has perhaps one minor fault: the first two hours. In adapting Maxwell Anderson's pretentious free-verse play, the film makers have resurrected cliches that have lain dormant for decades. There are "get-out-of-my-sight" scenes that have not been witnessed since Bette Davis hung up her spites. There are pseudo profundities that recall the worst of The Lion in Winter: "I am the King of England; when I pray, God answers." Even the costumes are exaggerated. Lest the audience miss the villainous character of Cardinal Wolsey (Anthony Quayle), he is wrapped in a Satanic scarlet no vicar ever wore on earth.

Ironclad Chastity. As the autumnal Henry, Richard Burton is every other inch a king. In appearance he is as scruffy as a knave; his justly celebrated voice is restricted to self-analytical lists: "I'm bitter, I'm envious, I'm dangerous, I'm malicious." Quite. But regal? Not quite.

Throughout the film, audiences may be reminded of a late-show favorite, The Private Life of Henry VIII, starring Charles Laughton rumbustiously chomping up silversides of beef and dialogue. It was a superior treatment of the same subject in every sense save one. As the current Anne Boleyn, Genevieve Bujold refuses to accept the facile role of the wronged woman. Starting as a beautiful child, she contrives to catch the conscience and the passion of the King. With growing eroticism --and ironclad chastity--she reduces the monarch to pawn size, forces him to divorce Katherine of Spain and take her as his Queen. But, like Katherine, she is natally undone. England needs a future king. The old Queen produced stillborn princes. The new one gives birth to a live female and a dead male. Enraged, Henry VIII rigs charges of adultery against Anne and dooms her to the Tower of London and the headsman.

It would have been easy to play the spider ensnared by her own web, but Bujold knows better. In her "doleful prison," she suddenly appears as the real Anne must have been: a clever child who grew in stature not in the brilliance of her court but in the shade of her executioner. The performance establishes the star, but not her setting. A great King may be enough to restore a country; a noble Queen is insufficient to save a base film.

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