Late Thursday night. Alice and husband Scott sit down in front of the television. Their dog Charlie attempts to join them on the couch, is rebuffed, and tries again.
Scott: So what are we watching? Masterpiece Theatre something?
Scott: This looks stuffy and boring. If I have to watch this I'm afraid I'll kill myself.
Alice: No one's putting a gun to your head.
Scott (looking at DVD case): Then again, there are many bosoms.
Alice: I'll bet they'll be heaving.
Scott: And Peter O'Toole's in it!
Alice: Maybe he'll show us his bosom!
Alice: This Casanova person is rather dreamy, isn't he.
Scott: (suspiciously quiet)
Alice: This is much more madcap than I thought it would be.
Scott: (softly snoring)
Alice: Fell asleep already? Then I'm bringing in fictional, awake Scott.
Fictional Awake Scott (hereafter known only as "Scott"): I'm here and I'm awake! Boy howdy, am I! Mind if I push this real-life Scott off the couch?
Alice: Knock yourself out.
Scott: I cannot render myself unconscious, as I would then cease to be! Ha, ha!
Sleeping Scott is shoved to the floor, and Alice and New Scott watch the movie.
Scott: Ooh, Peter O'Toole's in this.
Alice: You said that already.
Scott: Ha, ha! But then I fell asleep! So. It's nice to see him in a movie where he doesn't appear to be waiting for his check.
Alice: Although it seems cruel to the viewer, when they're enjoying this young, dewy Casanova, to suddenly shock them with the crenelated, O'Tooled version.
Scott: You would never say "crenelated" in real life.
Alice: I don't talk about Peter O'Toole nearly enough.
Scott: You know, this is entertaining, but the soundtrack--it's like they bought some circus music on sale and couldn't wait to use it.
Alice: Did I say this was madcap? Madcap doesn't even begin to describe it.
Scott: It's bodice-ripping fun!
They watch someone's bodice getting ripped and marvel at the fictional Scott's timing.
Scott: I would say this is bawdy and irreverent. Those are good words. Write those down.
Alice: I'd describe it as a "giddy tour-de-force." If I were writing a review.
Scott: Is any of this real, about Casanova and this woman falling in love?
Alice: It wasn't mentioned in the Wikipedia entry. And I believe everything Wikipedia tells me.
Scott: Wait, is young Casanova making out with a man?
Alice: I believe there is some homo-erotic gamboling going on.
Alice: Never mind. I just liked the phrase "homo-erotic gamboling."
Alice: I was hoping to make fun of this more, but they're too good at making fun of themselves. It's not fair.
Scott: The writers really enjoyed mocking the British.
Alice: "Don't look over there, but I think someone's invented the sandwich." Ha!
Scott: The only thing more fun than making fun of the British is making fun of the French.
Alice: And let us not forget the Irish. The filthy Irish.
They watch some more. Pretend time is passing.
Alice: The fact that the aging-with-age Peter O'Toole is getting all seductive on this maiden and I'm not laughing or retching is very impressive indeed. Either he's an excellent actor, or I'm drunk.
Scott: You're drinking peppermint tea.
Alice: Then I've been O'Tooled!
Scott: Maybe you're drunk.
Alice: I like you, fictional awake Scott. You're so much more conscious than my real husband.
This sequence when they're in Naples is... odd. I don't buy that Casanova's son would be so bitter and hardened, when Casanova himself is such a romantic. "I learned how to be kinky from you, Dad! I learned it from you!" Feh.
Scott: Exactly. How did he get to see all the sex? When we didn't see any? We're almost at the end and there hasn't been a single breast exposed. It isn't fair.
They watch and watch and watch and forget to make jokes.
Alice: Uh-oh, this is becoming dangerously poignant.
Scott: Aw, geez, are you crying?
Alice: Casanova was so misunderstood! All he wanted was his own true love! And everyone else, with their dirty minds, they made it all about sex!
Scott: When there was absolutely NO SEX to be had in the entire show. We should talk to PBS about that.
Alice: This is so sad.
Scott: If you cry more, I'm going to wake him up, I swear it.
Alice: (quietly weeping)
Awake Scott kicks Sleeping Scott, then storms out of the house, in search of some Red Bull.
Heretefore Sleeping Scott: Wha--? Did I miss it? Why am I on the ground?
He gets back on the couch and watches the credits with her.
Scott: How was it?
Alice: It was quite good. You hated the music, and the lack of explicit sex.
Scott: Sounds like me. But why are you crying?
Alice: I'm afraid you're going to have to watch it to find out.