I, too, have seen - and enjoyed - many "Much Ados." I was raised on Shakespeare, literally since I was pre-natal, as my father read aloud to my mother's belly. Like you, I love "Much Ado," I saw it first on Broadway when I was very young - Sam Waterston was a fine, charming Benedick. I've seen Derek Jacobi and Sinead Cusak with the RSC, I've seen a couple of television versions from BBC, one with Robert Lindsay.
I've admired much about the Branagh version - it's rather like a huge golden harvest, but a lot of chaff in with the wheat.
Whedon's film is a diamond. So intelligent, the choices, so much ferreting out of clues in the text. I love how much a soldier Alexis Denishof's Benedick is - the man who complains when Claudio no longer "speaks plain." Denishof, unusually, and for me, wonderfully, incorporates that sensibility into his delivery. Usually, the last thing Benedick sounds like is a plain-speaking man, ever.
Amy Acker is like some luminous, lovely hybrid of Shakespeare heroine and 1930s or 40s film star (I love the cinematic nods to film noir and screwball comedy; Jean Arthur, a star from that era, was equally adept at comedy and drama, and, like Acker, had a husky voiced, idiosyncratic delivery.
You note Nathan Fillion - he is almost beyond praise here. So marvelous - and the film knows, comedy isn't funny if it isn't serious.
I watched the film again with a younger friend, very smart, but no exposure to Shakespeare except reading in high school and a couple of summer children's theatre productions. She also loved it - and "got" it.
I think the fact that Whedon's film speaks to us both is a pretty good indicator that it has serious merit.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
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