Anne Boleyn, episode one, review: such radical casting deserved more than this lumpen and leaden bore

Anne Boleyn was not black. In Anne Boleyn (Channel 5), she is played by the black actress Jodie Turner-Smith, a casting decision that has caused controversy. There are various ways of looking at this.

One is that casting can be colour-blind, and what’s the big deal? As audiences we should be looking for the humanity in a character, not their physical resemblance to the real thing. Jonathan Rhys-Meyers played Henry VIII in The Tudors despite resembling the skinniest member of an ageing boyband.

Alternatively, casting a black actress could be a clever way of illustrating Anne’s outsider status at court in the final months of her life. Whatever the thinking behind the decision, there is no doubt that it has given maximum publicity to Channel 5.

After all that, though, it turns out that the casting isn’t the notable thing about Anne Boleyn. What jumps out at you is that the whole production is really quite bad.

Turner-Smith looks suitably regal but gives a performance of little depth in this opening episode (in episode two things do improve). What are Anne’s motivations, or her true feelings for Henry? You won’t find out from watching this. All we get are Anne’s fear and paranoia as she sees her husband lining up a replacement wife.

But the failure of the drama isn’t Turner-Smith’s fault. It isn’t the fault of any of the cast, because anyone who saw Mark Stanley (who plays Henry) in White House Farm, or Paapa Essiedu (George Boleyn) in I May Destroy You, will know they are superb actors when given the right material. No, the problem here is the leaden script and lumpen direction.

At one point, Anne watches in horror as the king’s henchmen execute a beautiful and spirited horse that Henry once adored but is now ruthlessly excising from his life. Do you think there’s a hidden message in there? For the people who failed to get it, we cut to a scene in which Anne tells Henry she is sad about the horse. “I’ve no use for an animal that won’t obey me,” he replies. Could this have any bearing on Anne’s future? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

Anne and Jane Seymour share a kiss. Of course they do. Perhaps the director, Lynsey Miller, used the same handbook as Emily Mortimer, who insisted on having Linda and Fanny forever on the verge of snogging in The Pursuit of Love.

There are occasional bright spots, such as Thalissa Teixeira’s touching performance as Anne’s lady-in-waiting. But the colour-blind casting suggests a boldness that simply isn’t evident elsewhere. Everything feels tiresomely old hat, reminiscent of one of those reconstructions you were forced to sit through in Third Year history. Lots of men muttering in panelled rooms. Everyone talking in cod Tudor-ese, apart from moments when they slip into Harry and Meghan-speak: “I know what it is like to have all their eyes on you yet never truly feel seen,” Anne tells Jane.

Take out the pregnancy sex and a vivid birth scene, and it feels like a production that could have been made in the 1960s. The historian Dan Jones is listed as an executive producer, so we must assume that the detail is right. Anne’s story was dramatic even by Tudor standards – but the actors may as well be reading out the small print on their Hoover guarantee for all the excitement it delivers.

Curiously, the opening and closing shots of the episode are strong. In the beginning, Anne sees the executioner’s axe and gasps. At the very end, she looks to the heavens and cries: “No physician can save me now.” Sadly, nothing can save this production either.