I had no idea I was going to see such a frat boy sex comedy when I sat down to view Lasse Hallström’s latest film, Casanova.
Hallström is famous for lush (although fairly vanilla) set pieces which often pass for more substance than they are worth. The best example of this is Chocolat, a silly (although sweet) romantic farce that was, for no reason understood by man, nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars.
With Casanova we seem to be entering into Chocolat territory. Historical romance. Popular and accessible pseudo-feminist values (you know, the smart woman who is somewhat of a rebel tames the womanizing bad boy). Good slap in the face to those who would tell other people how to live. Lavish sets and costumes. General good feeling as the beautiful people fall in love and the ugly ones are nasty people who don’t deserve happiness.
However Casanova doesn’t even reach those kinds of expectations (if you can call them that). Instead you get fart jokes, fat jokes and a blow job under a table played for laughs. Who knew I was sitting down to watch a National Lampoon movie?
Casanova is fairly predictable and the romance is satisfying to those who want to see romance played out like that. People who have ever really been in love will through this kind of drivel and seek out something like star Heath Ledger’s better 2005 movie Brokeback Mountain.
Casanova is purely for the self-medicated who need to be told that love will save all and not for those brave enough to actually fall into it.