Tonight, Casanova is still in love with the beautiful Henriette, but she is sticking with her fiance, Grimani, because he has lots of money, whereas our hero barely has two zucchini to rub together.

Yes, that's what they call the currency - why the Venetians deal in courgettes is anybody's guess. (Which reminds me: what do you get if you cross a courgette with a door knocker?

Rata-tat-a-touille. Sorry) Then, miraculously, Casanova becomes rich and Henriette decides to become his fiancee (not that she's a gold-digger, or anything), although she stymies the great lover by insisting on staying a virgin until the wedding day. Remarkably, she seems to be the only woman in Venice who hasn't slept with Casanova - which is, perhaps, why he's so interested. And she knows what she's doing. "It's the only power a woman has," she says, "and I won't give mine away."

The plot then sets off on a series of ups and downs, and ins and outs (in more senses than one), in which Casanova goes to prison, Paris and England, as well as inventing the lottery (prepare for some wince-making gags).

He also gains a young son along the way - born of a woman several years earlier, who has recently died. Her dying wish was that the boy should know his father, Casanova.

"But how do you know that is me?" asks the great lover. "She could be lying."

"She was a nun" is the reply.

TV Picks: Casanova | Evening Standard Mar 10 2005

Thanks to his presence in the language as the symbol for unscrupulous ladies men everywhere, Casanova is a figure with whom we feel very well acquainted. The opening scene of this new, three- part dramawould appear to reinforce the stereotype as our hero, played with unmistakeable swagger by David Tennant, comes crashing through the window of a boudoir he clearly has no right to be in, with an outraged husband in hot pursuit.

What follows is pure slapstick, as Casanova whistles up his trusty steed but fails miserably to straddle it with his leap from the balcony, and ends up cornered on a gondola by every wronged and outraged male in Venice. As Casanova turns to face their wrath, we begin to discern that screenwriter Russell T. Davies is going to present us with a different character to the full-blown womaniser of yore. This is a man who passionately loves woman. Is this such a crime? Just like all the husbands and boyfriends, he loves women, it's just that none are his wife or girlfriend. The crucial difference is that he loves more of them and is better at that loving than they are, with the result that these woman are truly happy. Could anyone quibble with this arrangement? Of course not.

In a second piece of inspired casting, these amorous adventures are being itemised in a fat notebook by a much older Casanova, played by none other than Peter O'Toole, a man who was clearly born to play the part. After a lifetime spent in the pursuit of females and being pursued by males, Casanova has finally found a measure of peace as a librarian in Castle Dux, where he survives the cool contempt of his fellow servants by immersing himself in the warm bath of memory. A newly-employed serving girl Edith, the daughter of an old acquaintance, reawakens his not terribly dormant vanity and with very little difficulty persuades the old roue to give us the story of his life. At first, the innocent young thing, fearful of being outraged, asks him to cut out all the rude bits. When he responds that this will leave about three pages, Edith relents, much to our great relief, for where would we be without the rude bits? This allows O'Toole to tell his story with the same degree of relish displayed by Tennant in acting it out.

Looked at from a certain perspective, this is a deeply moral tale. Casanova is abandoned by his actress/trollop mother at a young age and left to fend for himself in a cruel world. His sexual awakening presages a full embrace of the world's possibilities, but the young man without a pedigree or a penny to his name is not a desirable commodity in a society which is both rigid and frigid. Casanova uses his unique status as grand master of love to induce flexibility and a thaw, thus making society a better place. We can enjoy these saucy romps while being morally refreshed.

Pick Of The Day | The Independent Apr 11 2005

Part two of Russell T Davies's rumbustious take on the life of Casanova (David Tennant, above) finds our 'hero' pining for the beautiful Henriette (Laura Fraser), and ever hopeful of persuading her not to marry the wealthy nobleman Grimani. The doe-eyed Tennant is completely convincing as the romantically inclined lothario, a man in thrall to his heart as much as to his libido. He benefits, though, from a whizzy script that brims with pace and wit. In particular, the combination of period costume and contemporary lingo is a delight. As the older Casanova, Peter O'Toole is perfect, his eyes worn out by the things he has seen down the years.

All The World Loves A Lover | The Independent Mar 12 2005

Soldier, spy, diplomat, writer, adventurer, gambler, entrepreneur: Giacomo Casanova packed several careers into his 74 years, though he will always be remembered as history's most famous lover, more typically a serial seducer, sexual braggart and heartless cad. Spurred on by assorted biographies and biopics, most now view his life as nothing more than a series of sweaty romantic escapades, and certainly the opening scenes of BBC3's lavish drama do little to dispel the myths. We are introduced to our protagonist, played with mischievous relish by David Tennant as he leaps from the balcony of his latest conquest's boudoir and attempts - unsuccessfully - to land in the saddle of his grey steed.

Casanova is the writer Russell T Davies's first foray into costume drama. As you'd imagine from the creator of Queer as Folk and Bob and Rose, he can't resist a bit of camp. Casanova is a visual feast of rustling taffeta, candle-lit trysts and blushing cheeks of the below-the-waist variety, with Casanova frequently addressing the camera, offering us assurances and tongue-in-cheek confessions in the style of Michael Caine's Alfie.

Though to all intents and purposes a period drama, Casanova is also a very modern piece of television - colourful, provocative and funny - and the dialogue is wilfully contemporary (the first word uttered by our hero is "bollocks"). It's only later on that Davies delves a little deeper into his hero's psyche. We see him taking on a range of identities, from doctor, astrologer and lawyer to virtuoso violinist, in order to impress the Venetian grandees. Perhaps more importantly, he is presented less as a pathological shagger than a sensitive soul who listened intently to the woes of his lovers and who had a habit of falling passionately in love.

It's significant that we know from the outset how Casanova ended up. At 60 he sat, rheumy-eyed and alone, composing his 3,700-page memoirs while working as a librarian in the Count of Waldstein's castle in Bohemia. His story is told in flashbacks, with Peter O'Toole playing the elderly Casanova who regales Edith, a young servant girl, with tales of his youth. His childhood, we learn, was largely miserable. Abandoned by his actress mother, the young Giacomo was sent to boarding school, where he suffered from constant nosebleeds. His sexual awakening arrived courtesy of a young chambermaid when he was just eight, after which his life was irrevocably changed: the nosebleeds stopped and Casanova became a brilliant student who went to Padua University at 13 to read law. We also meet Henriette, the love of his life, who left him after just seven months to return to her family, leaving him devastated (in his autobiography he compared being in love to having an incurable illness).

He may, according to legend, have been the greatest lover of them all, but, as Davies is at pains to points out, he suffered in love more than most.