THIS IS A MOCKERY.
I TEARED UP AT THE END OF TWELFTH NIGHT.
NOT because it was happy, mind you. These were not "omg, so cute, happy ending!" kind of tears. No. I didn't realize it at first, but this play is goddamn tragic, and in the bad way.
In my personal opinion, there is the good tragic and the bad tragic. Good tragic is when you think, "That sucks," but secretly, you love the way it turned out, if only for the story. For example, I love the ending of Othello. The bad guy basically wins! When does that happen?! It's such a cool ending! Julius Caesar as well is the good kind of tragic, although all my favorite characters die... TT~TT But it's still a good story!
However, the bad tragic is when you leave the story feeling absolutely horrible, with no redeeming factors like "Great plot twist!" or "They got what they deserved!" And that's what Twelfth Night did to me. I don't think it had such a great effect on me until I actually SAW it, as opposed to read it, but there are three people, each one of my favorite characters, that end up absolutely miserable at the end:
Malvolio, who has gone almost absolutely insane because of a terrible prank pulled on him.
Antonio, whose true love is straight and has run off with a girl right in front of him.
And Sir Andrew Aguecheek. A character I initially despised, because he is an absolute IDIOT. But Kenneth Branugh (I think I spelled that wrong) did something amazing at the end of his version of Twelfth Night. The two couples walk off happily together, and Sir Andrew just sits there, blood dripping from his head, in complete shock, and then gives a look of absolute defeat and sadness and walks away. I WANTED TO GLOMP HIM. ANDREW WANTS LOVE, TOO. TT~TT
So yes, stupid comedy. That was no comedy. That was sad. Absolutely sad.
Gonna go cry in a corner now...
~Mattie
