Containing few performances that don't hit the same painfully broad and obvious notes over and over again, this film of Branagh's staged performance clearly has learned its lines and found its beats. Especially notable is Toby's slapstick business with the sword and the development of Feste's dark underbelly, completed with the subtlety and variety found in a box of crayolas. No mo------ meant left un-mined, no witty banter unPUNCTuated. Wow, they know that play in and out, having clearly just come off of a long and successful but apparently soul-draining run. Good snow.
For the sake of filling enough lines to make an acceptable entry, I shall comment on the music: fittingly saccharine and forgettable. Hey nonny.
For the sake of filling enough lines to make an acceptable entry, I shall comment on the music: fittingly saccharine and forgettable. Hey nonny.