Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street will continue to
upset some musical theatre purists, but they can wait for live productions.
This Sweeney maintains the integrity of the stage version while telling the
story with a tension and darkness rarely captured live.
Adaptation from stage to screen is
a dangerous art, as it simply may not be possible to recreate the complexity
and impact of a live production on film. Many incredible examples of musical
theatre have made dull films (A Chorus
Line and Rent come immediately to
mind), but others have been translated to the screen in ways that almost
re-created the genre. Fosse did it in Cabaret
and Cameron Mitchell in Hedwig and the
Angry Inch.
When future theatrical historians dissect
20th Century American Musical Theatre, Stephen Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd will rarely be ignored. Premiering
on Broadway in 1979, it tells the story a barber who kills his customers and
his landlady who uses the bodies to make meat pies. The show fuses comedy with
a classical tragic structure and tells the story through the eyes of a modern
chorus.
So how does Burton tell this tale? Firstly,
he removes the chorus. This instantly means the loss of some of the most
memorable music. Sadly, filmgoers may never hum the “The Ballad of Sweeny Todd”,
but there is no place for a chorus in this film. It’s no longer a story about many; it’s the story of Benjamin
Barker (aka Sweeney Todd).
We see London from Todd’s
perspective. The CGI city is magnificently grey and miserable. Action and characters
are viewed through distorted windows or reflected in broken mirrors and shining
blades. Todd is unable to see his world (or himself) clearly, until the
inevitable moment when it’s too late.
Burton supports this with a stunning
use of colour and light. The symbolism is obvious, but the greys and sepias of
Sweeney’s world compared to the bright floral of Benjamin’s past show more than
any dialogue could manage. Then there’s red – lots of red. (It may be the best
use of red on a screen since Spielberg used a little red coat in Shindler’s List.) The squeamish be
warned – there’s blood in this film. Blood that oozes, drips, spurts and gushes
life, death, love and hope.
Burton favourites Johnny Depp and Helena
Bonham Carter head the cast. Depp’s Todd is enticing and I cannot imagine a
better choice. He creates a sympathy, and even empathy, for a character who we
still clearly see as a monster, but feel every moment of his pain.
The casting of Bonham Carter as pie
maker Mrs Lovett has split opinions. In musicals people sing. Burton’s principal
cast are not singers, but the roughness in some of the voices adds an unexpected
authenticity to their characters. Bonham Carter is clearly not a singer. Hearing
“Worst Pies in London” sung by one of the worst singing voices around is
deliciously ironic, but somewhat distracting. Marni Nixon made us believe
that Deborah Kerr, Natalie Wood and Audrey Hepburn could sing, so I have to
wonder why there wasn’t some dubbing to support Bonham Carter’s voice. Even on
the stage, it’s common for a homely chorus member to stand in the wings
ensuring that the ingénue’s high C is perfect.
Vocal ability aside, Mrs Lovett is
traditionally played by a more mature singer, who is embracing comic roles.
(Angela Lansbury was the first Mrs Lovett.) Bonham Carter’s younger Lovett was
surprising. However, her performance has brought such a unique depth and
poignancy to the character, that Mrs Lovett may never be cast in the same way
again. She is no longer the comic sidekick.
Her obsession with Todd is as distorted as his need for vengeance but she
make’s their love seem feasible. There are moments when we hope that their
murderous rampage can lead to them living happily by the sea.
It’s an odd thing to believe a world
where people regularly burst into song, yet musicals can tell the most epic and
tragic stories so effectively. Perhaps it is because music can reach ours souls
instantly. Words have to go though our brain first. Images are similar – they
show us the emotion and feeling, without the need for words. Buton’s film combines
the visual and aural with some fine structuring to create an emotionally
rewarding film that I’ve already gone back to see again.
