Leaning a little extra heavily on the Shakespeare in Love button, Lasse Hallstrom's Casanova is a slight, silly, and entirely frothy little confection ... but I'd be lying if I said I didn't find some really entertaining stuff littered throughout its weirdness.
In that sense -- and many others -- the movie recalls the playful, knockabout verve of Richard Lester's 1970s "Three Musketeers" romps -- or, more recently, the 1998 Oscar winner "Shakespeare in Love," without the soaring glories of the latter's Oscar-winning script.
Basically it's just a big, childish farce--more American Pie than Shakespeare in Love.
Comparisons to “Shakespeare in Love” are inevitable, and while it isn’t better than that, it’s not exactly trying to be, regardless of the myriad of similar themes.
Such obstacles are predictably mined for sub-Shakespearean (or, rather, sub-Shakespeare in Love) identity flip-flops in which Francesca's covert career as a writer of women's lib literature is matched by Casanova's masquerading as Papprizzio (at a masquerade ball, no less).