“Casanova” Directed by: Lasse Hallström

Starring: Heath Ledger, Sienna Miller, Jeremy Irons, Oliver Platt, Lena Olin

MPAA rating: R (for slight sexual innuendo; no nudity, negligible adult language)

Running time: 110 minutes

Best suited for: those who don’t mind their “world’s greatest lover” lukewarm and utterly PC

Least suited for: those who expect more of their “world’s greatest lover” than a banal sit-com romantic

“Casanova” is a pleasant wisp of a film, a jovial romp offering a stylistic and farcical depiction of 18th-century Venice. Yet it also reduces the art of seduction—we are talking about Casanova here—to the potency of a pleasant stroll through the garden. The question: Is Casanova as sensitive compassionate male monogamist still Casanova?

“Casanova” is a Disney (Touchstone) film—two words that one wouldn’t find in the same sentence 20 years ago—although I simply cannot fathom the film’s R rating. There’s nary a bosom or bottom exposed and nothing promiscuous or lascivious enough to offend even a 10year-old. If there’s a fault with “Casanova,” it’s that the film’s so damn middle-of-the-road that it nullifies its own subject. There’s a bit of bloodless swordplay, a bit of male swagger, a bit of debauchery-free lust—and even much of the film’s sensuality is implied, rarely displayed. “Casanova” is the year’s first truly gentle movie.

What works in “Casanova” is its splendid portrayal of aristocratic Venice (much of the film was shot on location) and the scheming masquerade—everyone pretending to be someone they’re not—that made “Shakespeare in Love” so enjoyable. There are, in fact, similarities. But although the film’s heart may be in the right place, it’s just too mellow to ruffle feathers. Think of this one as “Shakespeare Lite.”

The premise is this: The man who once popularized promiscuity and numbered his sexual conquests in the thousands (and this was centuries before the NBA) was perhaps a victim of love after all. Early in his career, Casanova (played by ex-cowpoke Heath Ledger) is smitten by Francesca (Sienna Miller), who writes philosophical profeminine literature under the masculine nom de plume Giardo Guardi. Francesca also happens to be betrothed (against her will, because feminism only went so far in 1754) to the wealthy and plump Genovese lard merchant Paprizzio, played by perennial scene-stealer Oliver Platt. To further complicate matters, both Casanova and Guardi have been condemned to death by the Catholic Church, which is disdainful of both promiscuity or philosophical thinking (go figure). Jeremy Irons plays the rigid Bishop Pucci, a Vatican inquisitor sent from Rome to arrange a quick hanging or two.

The gang all merges at a lofty, magnificent masked ball, where true identities are uncovered, loves shuffled, verdicts rendered and destinies played out in a helter-skelter (yet adequately amusing) pace.

Held to bear against such worthy predecessors as the far more passionate “Dangerous Beauty” (1998), the Oscar-winning “Shakespeare in Love,” Stanley Kubrick’s utterly underrated “Barry Lyndon,” Richard Lester’s still magnificent “The Three Musketeers” (1973), and the sultry “Dangerous Liaisons,” “Casanova” seems little more than a case of puppy love gone baroque. While some may be ready to cocoon the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest lover” in bubblegum wrap and sugar sprinkles, I expected the writers of a film named “Casanova” would plunge into the depths of uncharted waters, break some new ground. This film fails to do so: it teases no listless brain cells nor expands expectant horizons. It is, though, a pleasant and watchable farce, sunny enough to amuse an audience craving a gentle chuckle.