Frank Rich, New York Times June 23, 1983

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The show is sheer enchantment. Mr. Hands treats "Much Ado" as a comedy of growing up; if there is a penalty for this it comes at the start, which introduces Sinead Cusack's Beatrice as a bouncy over-emphatic flirt, forever showing off to circles of silently convulsed admirers, and bringing you wholly into sympathy with Jacobi's Benedick. This impression survives only to their second meeting when Benedick's peremptory exit reduces her to the brink of tears, and from that point on both performances develop into as humanely funny an exploration of their relationship as I have seen. Mr. Jacobi is not at all the usual military figure, though he can command a fine martial ring when announcing that the world must be peopled. Much of the way he plays the underdog, his voice full of wheedling and impotently exasperated inflections, often playing the mock innocent with farcically prolonged vowels. The production treats them as very different people, establishing the contrast most boldly in the eavesdropping scenes. Benedick's is played as superbly inventive comedy, with repeated embarrassing returns by the boy, who finally throws the book after his master's retreating back. But when Beatrice turns up for her treatment, comedy is abruptly switched off.

Irving Wardle, London Times April 21, 1982

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Derek Jacobi brings to Benedick a youthful hue, tending at first to the eccentric, even the slightly soppy, but eventually hardening into firm masculinity as love replaces self-regard. Jacobi's speaking is an exact reflection of his subtle reading of the text---each tone he produces is a part of meaning, not a call for general approbation. His voice, with its controlled melody, is a delight to hear.

Drama (magazine) 1982

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The Stratford production of "Much Ado" opens with the cellist Julia Vohralik on stage, and an auditorium filled with the chiming sounds of Nigel Hess' music. It is quite one of the loveliest beginnings I have seen. Throughout, the production aims for a lyrical, fantastical beauty. All this presentation works greatly to the advantage of Derek Jacobi and Sinead Cusack. The twin scenes in which they overhear their love's disgust are a key to the contrast in their approaches to the characters: Mr. Jacobi gives us the laughs, Miss Cusack remains quite still and takes each accusation to heart. This variation is well thought out. Miss Cusack has ample opportunity to display her wit elsewhere, while Mr. Jacobi can turn from a comic complicity with the audience to a passionate engagement on stage.

James Fenton, Sunday (London) Times April 25, 1982

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Terry Hand's production doesn't create a whole society or touch profound emotional chords. What it does--through design, costume, lighting, and, of course, acting--is make a statement about Messina as a world of fashion, ornament, deception, and narcissism,...in which the reality of love finally breaks through. Derek Jacobi's Benedick [at first is] the prince's jester,..a larky, lively, clubbable professional bachelor whom you can imagine always being the last to bed. But Mr. Jacobi achieves maturity very affectingly; and nothing in his performance is better than the wary devotion with which he circles round the sobbing Beatrice in the church scene as if afraid to speak. Both mature into love without losing their wit, [and the final image was] of the two of them yapping away like a couple of Shavian character arguing into eternity.

Michael Billington, The Guardian 1983

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Jacobi's Benedick is a deprecatory, slight camp court jester, acting out his appointed role of misogynist and eternal bachelor, who is struggling to find new ways of expressing emotion honestly. Benedick's several attempts to woo in conventional fashion are memorable and amusing failures. [This is expressed] visually in the final scene when both couples have been united and Benedick attempts to lift Beatrice off her feet in the time-honoured style of True Romance fiction. He is unable to budge her an inch.

Simon Midgely 1983

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When Derek Jacobi and Sinead Cusack launch their witty fusillade, the war of word is as merry as it's claimed to be---more chummy vaudeville turn than a battle royal. The actors don't square off to exchange their opening volley of insults; they sidle up to one another as if they were wary rival comedians trying out their best new zingers in a game of "Can you top this?" In contemporary terms, the impish Mr. Jacobi and the headstrong Miss Cusack are closer in spirit to 1930s screwball comedy than Noel Coward. But their perfectly meshed teamwork surely lifts them into the aristocracy of comic acting. We can see right away that this Benedick and Beatrice share an intellectual affinity, and we immediately start rooting for their hearts to catch up with their heads. When the embrace at long last comes, Mr. Jacobi and Miss Cusack get the last laugh by breaking the clinch for one last bout of mimed debate. The delight this couple finds in contentiousness ripples right through the house. Given the house--the Gershwin--that's no small achievement. The Gershwin is a cavern unfit for any show smaller than "Sweeny Todd." All thing considered, it's amazing how much the winning stars warm the place up. This "Much Ado" is more broadly played in New York than it was at the RSC's London home, but it still makes a jolly, at times enchanting, evening.

Though there's nothing artificial about the comedy, its subject is artificiality with a vengeance. Nearly every character has a double image in the text, one public and one private. Best are those moments when we watch Mr. Jacobi and Miss Cusack juggle those images in performance---as they abandon their brittle public poses to confront the unruly emotions that their extravagant wit has always masked. "This can be no trick!," Benedick declares right after he's been tricked into lovesickness by his cronies. It's hilarious to watch Mr. Jacobi, who has piously mocked Claudio's romantic ardor 10 minutes earlier, rack his brain to find any convenient excuse for his sudden change of heart. By the time he grabs at his final rationalization--"The world must be peopled!"--he has about-faced so many times he's spinning. When he emerges later in full romantic plumage, a red cape matched by the rose he daintily carries in his hand, the deadpan understatement "I am not as I have been" becomes a tumultuous punch-line. Nothing can distract us from Mr. Jacobi and Miss Cusack. In their own special way, they are close to perfection.

Frank Rich, New York Times October 15, 1984

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Joy unconfined came to Broadway yesterday with the RSC's entrancing "Much Ado About Nothing". Break down the doors. Derek Jacobi is the kingpin of "Much Ado": his Benedick, rich in detail and bursting with life, is the finest in my experience. The actor is a revelation as the dedicated bachelor who is inevitably joined to the equally dedicated spinster Beatrice. They make a delightful team, but it is Jacobi, an actor suddenly seeming to realize his full potential and reveling in it, who establishes the tone for this glorious entertainment. But go see for yourself. Rejoice in Jacobi and these brilliant visitors who bring much-needed heart and soul to Broadway.

Douglas Watt, New York Daily News October 15, 1984