Often referred to as "the medieval 'Virginia Woolf,' " James Goldman's "The Lion in Winter" is a witty, biting battle of words among the members of a royal family struggling for power.

Power means kingship, the time is Christmas 1183, and the place is a drafty castle in the English-held portion of northern France. King Henry II (Tom Holowach) has temporarily allowed his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine (Holly Holowach) to attend the court, releasing her from the castle where she has been incarcerated for plotting his overthrow.

Not surprisingly, the plotting renews afresh, ensnaring the couple's three sons, Henry's mistress, and the King of France in maneuvering to determine who will succeed Henry on the English throne.

The script is an unusual blend of costume drama, intensely personal psychological interplay, and biting dialogue that is at once densely intellectual, contemporary and disarming. When Henry wrenches himself back from the murderous urge to slay his sons with a broadsword, Eleanor quips, "You spare the rod, you'll spoil those boys."

The play was never a Broadway smash, and its stage revivals suffer by comparison to the 1968 film that starred Peter O'Toole and Katharine Hepburn, and that introduced Anthony Hopkins and Timothy Dalton in their first movie roles.

Not only did the movie capture the color and sweep of historically gritty medieval grand-eur, performances by Hepburn and O'Toole established incredibly difficult benchmarks. Confined to a small stage at Hawai'i Pacific University, the play is best appreciated for its remarkably sharp and engaging dialogue.

In this respect, Tom and Holly Holowach do justice to the script. Their words are sharp and clear, their subtext deftly underscored, and their moments of high emotion are effectively applied.

Together, their passion shines through their verbal dueling.

"I should have been a great fool not to love you."

"I hope we never die."

"You think there's a chance of it?"

But the couple revealed by the Holowachs is more regal than grasping, more finishing school polished than scrabbling street fighters. There is too much civilized veneer in their performances and not enough raw attack.

We miss the chilling thrill that Henry could get away with personally butchering his children and that Eleanor could find triumph in tormenting him with the physical details of her sex with his father.

Among the sons, James Locke mostly smolders silently as Richard, Gene DeFrancis is a snakish Geoffrey, and Derek Elder is an immature and fumbling John. Kyle Goff is Philip and Myra Beth Morrison is Alais.

Karen Archibald's set and Peggy Drock's costumes are neatly designed and historically convincing, but like the central characters, feel too new, too clean and too attractive.

As a result, "The Lion In Winter" makes for a full evening that engages the mind but fails to wrench the gut.