The romantic genre has produced some of the most memorable film moments, but in recent times, it seems that the actual act of romance has turned into a dead concept in so-called romantic films.

It used to be that Humphrey Bogart pining for Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca" or the climactic meeting on top of the Empire State Building in "Sleepless in Seattle" satisfied romantic film fans, but these popular onscreen couples no longer cut it.

It is hard to imagine, but in the last decade or so, the guard has changed and heart-burned romantic manipulation has replaced the taste for old-fashioned romance.

The couples used to trade quotable one-liners, but instead do terrible things to each other to pass the time. It raises a lot of questions about the demand for these films, but if the popular taste of audiences is an indication, there is going to be a lot more of them.

The historical drama "The Other Boleyn Girl" is the tipping point for these sorts of films.

In a tarted-up adaptation of Philippa Gregory's best-selling tale of the same name, the biggest social climber of all time gets the big-screen treatment, but isn't able to light much of a fire.

The big selling point of the film, if there is one, is the casting of Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson as England's most famous sisters in a tale of bedroom politics and sibling conflict set against the political climate of Britain's most turbulent era.

It is a combustible premise, but considering the tools at director Justin Chadwick and scripter Peter Morgan's disposal, it is a huge disappointment.

There are a couple scenes in the final stretch that contain the required dramatic heft the rest of the film is missing, but I couldn't help but feel there is a much better film in there on the cutting room floor.

It has all the shine and polish that Columbia Pictures can afford, but underneath all the respectable art house pretensions, it is the dirtiest-minded film to come along in ages.

The ubiquitous trailer screams it is a prestige production at full pitch, but since a historical epic-scaled film about palace intrigue and political shenanigans has about the same allure as getting the flu to most members of the audience, it ups the ante.

In the same mold as "Closer" and "Cruel Intentions," it sets forth the argument that romantic attraction is an unemotional chess game that is a sport unto itself.

The film depends on our fascination for the nastiness on parade here, but all it seemed to offer up are smug characters spouting pseudo-meaningful dialogue and engaging in couplings, uncouplings, bitter accusations and tear-drenched confessions.

There is nothing special about the interchangeable miserable characters that populate the film. It aspires to turn deceit, obsession, selfishness and brute force into high drama, but it is so unappealing and claustrophobic that it feels inconsequential.

The challenge for audiences is going to be caring enough about the characters to become attached to people that seem hell-bent on hurting one another.

In the opening scenes, the ambitious courtier Sir Thomas Boleyn presents – or pimps out – his eldest daughter Anne (Portman) as a romantic interest for the brooding Henry VIII (a miscast Eric Bana) since his current spouse has failed to produce a male heir into the court.

In a desperate plea for political gain and influence, he orders her to beguile the monarch during a hunting trip and become his mistress as her mother sits on the sidelines in disgust.

It doesn't go according to plan as she turns out to be more proficient on a horse than he is, but if one doesn't succeed the first time, then it is time for Plan B.

It turns out he prefers her more demure sister Mary (Johansson as the titular sibling) and beds her in short order, producing a son, but it is all for naught since the child is illegitimate. He does later on produce an heir, a daughter, but Google Cate Blanchett for more on that.