Sweeney Todd is a Beautiful Bloody Mess

By Margaret Andrews

Who else but Tim Burton to direct the latest film incarnation of Sweeney Todd? In fact, this movie is laden with Who-Else’s from the casting of his children’s mother, Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Lovett, to Johnny Depp as the ghastly throat-slicing demon barber of Fleet Street. Also, with Professor Snape and the Sheriff of Nottingham on his resume, Alan Rickman was a given to play Judge Turpin. The casting director could have done this one in his sleep. The only Who-Else left out in the cold was Burton’s soundtrack man, Danny Elfman, but with Stephen Sondheim hogging the original musical composition, what would Elfman contribute?

Benjamin Barker (Depp) is a happily married man who runs a barbershop in London. He lives with his beautiful wife, Lucy and their perfect little baby girl, Johanna. All is right in the world. But like all horror musicals, something goes disastrously wrong, ruining the blissful Barker family’s lives, and everyone has to sing about it.

Coveting Barker’s wife, Judge Turpin arranges for Barker to be sent to an Australian prison on trumped-up criminal charges, takes (and I mean ‘takes’ in the creepy sense) Lucy for himself, metaphorically chewing her up and spitting her out into the filthy streets of London. He keeps baby Johanna and raises her as his ward and future wife. Ick.

Barker returns to London years later with the help of Anthony (Jamie Campbell Bower), who looks like a girl in the same way that Hilary Swank looks like a guy: kind of, but with the right clothes and hair, not really.

Barker re-opens his barber shop under the new name of Sweeney Todd, renting the space above Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop. When Mrs. Lovett, with unrequited love for Sweeney Todd, tells him that his wife is dead, Todd’s bitter morosity and single-mindedness for revenge bubbles deep inside him. The two of them make a frightful looking pair enhanced by Burton’s signature ghoulish style. Meanwhile, Anthony and Johanna desperately fall for each other via stares through a window.

Through much miscommunication and ill-timed circumstance — if only everyone had cell-phones — tragedy and mayhem ensues. In song.

While the singing isn’t stellar, it’s passable and entertaining, particularly for Johnny Depp fans who wish to see one more aspect of his talents. Depp’s Todd is eerily familiar: his pale pallor is similar to that of Edward Scissorhands and we’ve heard him do British accents before. I’m not saying that’s bad, I’m just saying it’s not surprising to see. The singing, however: that’s new. And doesn’t everyone want to see Borat’s Sacha Baron Cohen singing in a That’s Amore’ Italian accent: To shave-a da face, To cut-a da hair?

Helena Bonham Carter is no Patti LuPone, who revived Mrs. Lovett in 2005 on Broadway, but why should we hold that against her? Besides, Sondheim’s music is a scary challenge for anyone to sing. His songs are the Star Spangled Banners of musicals. I respect anyone who even attempts it. It’s like watching your children get up on stage at the annual Christmas pagent; you’re so proud of them for even trying that you just HAVE to capture it on video.

Notably absent from the movie soundtrack is the powerful Ballad of Sweeney Todd, which is like leaving out The Hills Are Alive from The Sound of Music. It’s not omitted entirely, but it’s revamped as an opening instrumental, which is fine, but I missed the lyrics. This chorus-like song on Broadway provided musical depth and backstory. Granted, the backstory in the film is provided visually, perhaps something more difficult to do on stage. If you haven’t seen Sweeney Todd before, then you probably won’t be disappointed by this omission.

Not everyone will appreciate Sondheim’s music. It’s unusual, progressive even. There is very little dialogue, and the songs, to some viewers, may sound like the characters are making the tune up as they go along, kind of like R. Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet hip-hopera.

And Burton makes gorgeous movies. This one has the usual magical and virtual sepia tone, which makes the contrasting bright red copious amounts of throat-streaming blood all the more messy. And speaking of all that blood, the easily-queased would do well to avoid this movie, although some may rise above it, and see how Tim Burton can turn what would otherwise be just another slasher musical into a beautiful performance piece on celluloid. I mean, the blood doesn’t look THAT real. It’s got a bit of a pinkish hue.

Burton is selective when color contrasting. Cohen’s Signor Adolfo Pirelli in his blue suit and fuschia cape informs his place in the cast of characters. This film is not a dark comedy in the vein (no pun intended) of Shaun of the Dead in that there aren’t that many laughs, although you can tell the audience wants to. Desperately.

There is something whimsical about this Barbershop of Horrors and its characters. Perhaps that’s why we like some of the “bad guys” in this film. Like Michael C. Hall’s Dexter, we have that complex empathy for The Serial Killer With Issues. Whether it’s the absurdity of Mrs. Lovett’s meat pie recipe, or the exaggerated characters, or the Fantasy-like cinematography, some level of balance is achieved, despite the buckets of blood.

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