Titus

If you only watch one Shakespearean adaptation this year... I put forth Julie Taymor's Titus for your consideration. Taymor recently directed Across The Universe and is working on another of the Bards' works, The Tempest. Her retelling of this already brilliant, revenge soaked tale is visually spectacular and pulls those heart strings to the point of breaking as Titus Andronicus, once a venerated General in the Roman army loses everything. And I mean Everything.
It has a huge cast including Anthony Hopkins, Jessica Lange, Alan Cumming, Jonathon Rhys Meyers, Matthew Rhys, Colm Feore... it goes on...
If you needed further proof of the author's genius, Titus Andronicus is believed to be one of his earliest tragedies and Taymor certainly does it justice. Its bloody and gory, scheming and conniving, and boy, it will make you weep. Elliot Goldenthal's score, although at times seems hectic, fits the film like a glove.
Glints of Hannibal Lecter can be seen on Hopkin's face throughout the movie, I think Taymor would have encouraged that, given the pie baking scene near the end ; )
As with all good tragedies, this ain't gonna end well for anyone. Justice is served (literally), all the bad guys are dead, we stand back and think about what we've learnt - if your arch enemy invites you to a feast, don't eat the pie!

Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;
And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought.
For two and twenty sons I never wept,
Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears:
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still;
In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.