Serenity Now?

Image credit: Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Richard Cartwright

Whedon was too, but he refused to accept it. He didn't believe he had to. After all, this was the guy who rescued Buffy, which was first a failed movie (based on his script) before it became a seminal TV show. After Firefly was snuffed in December 2002, Whedon spent nine months trying to reignite it. But cancellation had given the project a stink. Even UPN and Sci Fi Channel turned him down. ''I asked all the homeliest girls at the prom if they would dance, and they said no,'' he says. ''Then the beauty queen showed up.''

''I was a Whedon stalker,'' laughs Mary Parent, Universal's now-outgoing vice chairman of production, who dug Whedon's vision and no-surrender passion. She also recognized a potentially marketable Cinderella story. A modestly budgeted film, Parent believed, was a gamble worth taking, and in September 2003, Universal optioned the rights from Fox. ''I thought this band of underdogs could make for a cool movie,'' she says. ''But I did want to see a script first.''

So Whedon wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And wound up with an unfilmable, only-for-the-fans 190-page epic — ''basically the second season of Firefly,'' he says. He boiled the script down to a crackerjack chase flick charged with political subtext: Mal & Co. on the run from a government agent (Chiwetel Ejiofor) desperate to recover that lethal and loony teen, River. In February 2004, after the script was done (and Firefly emerged as a DVD smash), Universal cleared Serenity for launch. Browncoats cheered. The cast rejoiced. And Whedon...was pissed. The battle to save Firefly finally won, Whedon found himself ''burping up a huge amount of an undigested rage.'' Serenity, he realized, was not Firefly; a two-hour film just could not encompass all the stories he wanted to tell, and could have told on TV. ''When the fight was over,'' he says, ''I finally felt all the pain I never let myself feel.''

But after that, everyone lived happily ever after, right? Not yet. In early 2005, the studio decided to move Serenity from April to September to shield its little fish from the bigger ones — namely, Star Wars. Whedon was disappointed for his fans, and worried the shift would be seen as a sign his film wasn't very good. Fortunately, Universal had an idea for assuaging his insecurities that dovetailed nicely with its intention to utilize the Browncoats as buzz generators. On April 22, Serenity's original release date, the first wave of screenings was held, publicized solely through Firefly fansites. The next day, reviews hit the Web — and fortunately, they weren't bad.

Stumping for Serenity could bring fans the glorious spoil of even more Serenity. Universal execs say the film would need to gross north of $80 million globally to garner sequel consideration — not an impossible dream, given that Whedon also boasts a strong following abroad. (''Trilogy!'' cries Fillion.) Whedon is game, though he'd have to find time to juggle franchises: He's prepping a Wonder Woman movie for Warner Bros. ''This doesn't feel like the end to me,'' he says. ''But then, nothing with me ever ends.''

Serenity hasn't healed all of Whedon's Firefly wounds, but he does feel a sense of relief...and gratitude. ''I know I'm a lucky man,'' he says. ''But there's gotta be an easier way to make a movie.''