Ciao, Cesare

Well, last night was the last episode ever of The Borgias, and I must admit, it went out on a high note that had nothing to do with the despairing wail I let rip when it was over. It was all about Cesare – he was in practically every scene and when he wasn’t physically present, he was the topic of discussion. Yow, he was something terrible and beautiful to behold. Francois Arnaud played him to the hilt, even overshadowing Jeremy Irons and that’s no mean feat. The pair of them together was such fun to watch and I loved what was done with the Pope, but truly, I was there for Cesare.

I was probably there for him in a past life as well, goshdarnit.

Each of my favourite characters made an appearance, so I wasn’t cheated. I adored Julian Bleach as Machiavelli. He stole every scene he was in with dry wit and what I believe Nicole would call “a po face”. His final line was particularly hilarious if only because of the way he delivered it. Augh! So much brilliance from so many actors I can’t begin to name them all. It’s just so sad that the story ends here, because while the finale certainly tied up loose ends, it also left the door wide open for a fourth season.

I sat in my chair when it was done and thought, Crap. I wish I could write like that. Never mind that I can write like that; the perception is different when the product is yours. I’ve written one or two fellas as ruthless and sexy as Cesare Borgia but, boy, what Neil Jordan did with him is truly enviable from an author’s perspective.

I’m glad they scrapped plans for a two-hour movie. Cramming a bunch of stuff into a different format would be as disrespectful as it would be futile for all concerned. If it had to end, it ended perfectly last night.