Riba Rambles:
MORE Musings of a Mental Magpie

In my regular review, I mentioned I had further criticisms with Greenblatt & Mee's Cardenio, but couldn't elaborate without revealing major plot details.

So, this entry is intended to address those issues.

Consider this An Open Letter to the Playwrights.

As it stands, the play is flawed, but still salvageable.

My intentions are to pinpoint specific areas in need of improvement, that might assist in the revision process.

Here there be spoilers:

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Still with me?

Hopefully that means you're either involved with the production or have seen the play.

For those of you who choose to read this anyway, yet still haven't seen the play, here's a quick rundown:

Ian pointed out that Randall Munroe already summed up the rest of the plot with these two comic strips (click to enlarge):

That's also Problem #1:

Once a wedding has taken place, these kinds of second thoughts -- or, at least, acting on them -- become far less funny.

A courtship or engagement can be ended on a whim, but not marriage. That's a much more serious business.

Treating the breakup so lightly left a bad taste in my mouth.

Because it isn't over at the end of the play. Anselmo and Camilla will have to file for divorce (or an annulment), with all the attendent paperwork that involves.

It's going to be messy.

That kind of loose end goes against the spirit of Shakespeare's comedies.

Problem #2:

We have no reason to believe that the divorcees will be any more successful in their new relationships than they had been with one another. How is that progress?

Shakespeare's comedies conclude with order being restored (or established). SCCardenio doesn't have that. There's a sense of impermanence to affairs that left me ultimately unsatisfied.

I'll point you to something my husband wrote about why he admires the ending of Love's Labours' Lost:

See, the whole play is this wacky screwball comedy about a prince and his three buddies who swear off women for three years, forgetting that the Princess of France and her three buddies are showing up and wacky fun ensues. Naturally, everyone falls in love, and there's all sorts of hijinks, and, at the end, everybody is just about to have their light, frothy happy ending.

You know, screwball comedy romance. Meet cute, end up marrying. The kind of thing that you KNOW, in real life, would never work out, because it's not ACTUALLY based on anything, and people haven't shown any REAL emotional depth and the relationship would crumble as soon as an actual problem showed up.

And just as they're getting ready for that ending, the Princess's secretary comes in with a message. Her father just died.

This is EXACTLY what the ending needs. Someone on my friends list was talking about the concept of "tragic relief" -- that you need something serious to cut the fluff in a comic piece. And all of a sudden, these eight wacky kids have to face something real, for at least a page or two. They have to agree to take time off and mourn, and deal with serious things for a year, and come back afterward and see if they are actually in love.

SCCardenio needs something similar. Give us some sense that things will work out, and that the new relationships will be taken more seriously.

On a related note, Problem #3:

I was disappointed that the Camilla and Will never came clean about their relationship at the end. They had the perfect opportunity to at least hint to the others that they'd be okay.

Instead, they left the lie hanging there as yet another unresolved issue.

Problem #4:

I already complained in my main review about the attention to the classical unities.

Not only was that uncharacteristic for Shakespeare, but that attention to realism directly caused problems with plausibility.

Unity of time: I cannot believe that Anselmo and Susanna had enough time between the wedding and meal to see all the sights they claimed.

At most, there was something under six hours from the start of the play to the meal. [The ceremony couldn't've taken place before noon, or the major meal would've been lunch.]

Unity of place: Because the villa was the only set, the audience didn't get to see Anselmo and Susanna together to the same extent as we saw Camilla and Will.

Believing in their chemistry becomes much more difficult without the chance to see them alone together.

Which dovetails nicely into Problem #5:

Characters need more equitable attention -- at least, for the final couples.

When a major character is partnered with a minor one, it's unbalancing and offputting.

More specifically, Sally and Melchiore needed more stage time.

It's not just a matter of relationships, but by denying us a sense of their personalities, these characters become little more than props -- trophies for the more important lovers to walk off with.

I really liked the three sets of pas-de-deux in the second act, as each couple seemed to describe a different quality of love:

• Anselmo and Susanna represented love at first sight;
• Will and Camilla showed the blossoming of a friendship;
• Edmund and Simonetta looked at longterm stability and the role of chance.

But two voices were missing, and that absence hurt the conclusion.

Sally's monolog on masturbation might fit in this section, showing self-love as a counterpoint to the others' focus on coupling. [She'd need another decent scene in the first act to replace that and add depth to her character.]

And Melchiore could easily speak about putting food on the table as a daily demonstration of his love, and what fools these Americans be.

It also would've been nice to hear from Luisa and Alfred -- worrying about their children and pointing out that relationships can survive troubled times.

Finally, Problem #6:

Doris

Doris was wronged by the end of the play.

In interviews and articles, you've compared her to Malvolio.

Well, I just rewatched Twelfth Night last week.

Malvolio behaves despicably in the first two acts, informing upon the other characters in hopes of getting them in trouble for minor infractions.

He's brought down as comeuppance for acting up.

Doris is no villain. She doesn't meddle or instigate anything. She merely makes uncomfortable observations.

If she's a witch, she's Sondheim's witch from Into the Woods:

"I'm not good. I'm not nice. I'm just right."

And by virtue of being correct -- speaking the truth and keeping a level head while everyone about is losing theirs -- she's earned audience sympathy.

While considering other characters excluded from the happily-ever-after of Shakespeare's comedies, I found a more appropriate analogy.

Jaques from As You Like It. They speak their mind, rail against the world, and can suck melancholy from a song as a weasel sucks eggs.

Jaques left the festivities of his own volition -- he was not driven out of paradise, but chose to leave when he knew he no longer fit. And Doris deserves the same dignity.

I'd much rather she got fed up and left the romantic fools to their own devices.

If she must be shunned, then have Rudi flounce out with her. He doesn't contribute much after that point, and revealing them lovers of convenience will reduce her humiliation.

Doris is a great character. Possibly the best in the play.

She deserves better.

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And those are my primary issues and suggestions regarding the plot.

I'll spare you further complaints about the "borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear," but suffice it to say, I think you should change that as well.