THE 1980s have surely been the decade of empire revivalism. From the masterful televison adaptation of Paul Scott's Raj Quartet to an inept film of E.M. Forster's A Pasage to India--even Bertolucci's The Last Emperor--films about imperialism, and particularly its demise, have become hits here and in Europe. Offering torrid plots set in tropical lands, films about empire have the perfect formula for success--glory, romance, violence and politics.

Now comes a film about one of the most ignored empires of all time, that of the Ottoman Turks. At its height, this empire ruled the entire Balkan peninsula, Syria, Egypt, Hungary, even the Levant. But the rise of European empires in the 19th century hastened the decay of the Ottomans, who were ruffled by strong independence movements in Greece and European competition for Fgypt and Palestine.

Pascali's Island is a film destined to remind people of this and more about the Ottomans. And although it may serve as a history lesson to some, it will also reawaken old stereotypes about Turks, about their greed, their savagery and their pettiness. Written and directed by James Dearden (who also wrote the screenplay for last year's sleeper, Fatal Attraction), Pascali's Island is a different kind of empire film. Instead of glorifying empire, it is decidedly unsympathetic. Stripped of the pageantry of the Raj, the decadence of a forbidden city and intriguing tribesman, this film ineffectively belittles both the Turks and the Greeks who fought them.

Doublecrossing and savagery are the ingredients of this plot, and the only thoroughly likeable character is a Viennese expatriate (Helen Miorren), who supplies arms to the Greek rebels seeking to overthrow the Ottomans. The Pasha is greedy, his minister conniving and threatening to those who stand in his way. His Turkish subjects are best described by their predilection for sacrificing sheep. One scene shows a man selling knives used for this purpose, with an American woman shrinking in horror at the thought of this barbarity. And later in the film, the title character sees such a sacrifice and recoils in horror. The point is, these people are cruel and uncivilized.

MOST people have forgotten the Turks and their empire. They may vaguley remember their presence in several Shakespeare plays or how they treated the Armenians at the turn of the century. They might even remember that Britain fought the Crimean War with the Turks and aginst the Russians to safeguard European shipping rights in the Bosphorous--if they remember the Cirmean War. But most have probably forgotten that, however free Greece may have been in antiquity, it suffered many years under the Ottoman yoke.

One shoudn't be surprised at the film's scorn for the Turks. Many of the film's Turkish parts are played by Greeks, and the credits list Olympia Airways in the acknowledgements. Everyone knows about the antipathies between these two peoples. Of course, the Europeans never liked the Turks either, since they controlled access to farflung Asia. But while historical circumstance is some excuse for this biased depiction, Pascali's Island does not provide compelling support for it.

Set on a remote island in the Adriatic, the film's plot centers on Pascali (Ben Kingsley), a part Turkish eccentric and informer for the Sultan who agrees to translate for Mr. Bowles, a visiting archaeologist (Charles Dance.) Bowles makes his living by obtaining a lease on land, then tricking its owners into buying it back at an exorbitant price. But this time, he really finds something on the property and refuses to sell it back when the Pasha who owns it gets suspicious. Pascali as the interpreter, is held repsonsible, and he finds himself in a bit of a bind. He can't decide whether to be loyal to the Englishmen. Can he be trusted?

ALL this has the makings of an exciting plot, but the screenplay is so poor that the film would be stultifying were it not for exquisite scenery and an outstanding performance by Kingsley. Filmed at Rhodes and Simi, it offers breathtaking views of little towns and crystyal clear water surrounded by picturesque cliffs. The photography is marred only by repeated and ridiculous shots of the sun setting (apparently, the sun does not set on the Ottoman Empire, and the symbolism is none too subtle.)

And while Charles Dance plays his part with characteristic woodenness and lack of charm, Kingsley provides proof of his versatility as an actor. His expressive face finds interesting contortions in this film as he runs the gamut of feelings--anger, fear, anguish and love being the chief ones. At times manipulative and at times manipulated, Pascali is always convincing. Kingsley's perfomrance is so good, in fact, that one can almost forgive him for the lousy script and blatant prejudice. But almost isn't good enough.