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As long as Carlos Saura’s directing, the haberdashers and wigmakers of Spain will never go hungry. Featuring brothels, Freemasons, and a galaxy’s worth of petticoats, I, Don Giovanni is a Dan Brown take on Amadeus with a paperback-romance sheen. Theoretically, the hero here is Lorenzo da Ponte, the boisterous polyglot who served as librettist to both Salieri and Mozart, producing (among countless others) Le Nozze di Figaro, Così fan Tutte, and the titular magnum opus. Played with furrowed brow and fulsome lips by Lorenzo Balducci—a sort of Italian Jonathan Rhys Meyers—da Ponte finds himself expelled from Venice, and the priesthood, for publishing anonymous calumnies against the Inquisition. A subversive by nature, and trained as such by his mentor, Giacomo Casanova (Tobias Moretti), da Ponte finds a happy exile in Vienna, where a letter from Casanova endears him to Salieri and his dexterity with the Freemason’s handshake endears him to Mozart. As the rake learns the virtues of chastity—courtesy of an overlit, schmaltzy reverie in which he meets the angelic Annetta (a toothsome Emilia Verginelli)—Mozart deals with daddy issues, and Salieri stands by as the long-suffering, nonconspiratorial second fiddle. Saura pulls off some neat tricks whereby the opera and real life bleed into each other; but much of the action is relegated to the interstices, and we’re forced to swallow the idea that da Ponte became an overnight success in between frames. Meanwhile, we get lushly photographed setpieces that look alternatively like pastel etchings or magazine advertisements. A frilly production suitable for Lifetime, if Lifetime allowed subtitles.