Let me support this question with some background. For years and years, I've been a slavishly devoted fan of the original stage version of Sweeney, which I regard as Stephen Sondheim's definitive masterpiece. To this day, it's not uncommon for me, during those long drives to College Park, to play "Epiphany" from the Original Broadway Cast recording seven times consecutively in my car while belting along and accompanying myself with very realistic and menacing slashing motions. I know every word to every song and have yet to listen to Len Cariou's take on "Johanna" at the top of Act II without shedding a tear. Therefore, despite the minor crush I have on Mr. Depp and my respect for Burton, I balked at the idea of a film adaptation. I was certain that I would detest it. I deemed myself too emotionally invested in the source material, one of my favorite musicals of all time, to appreciate any film adaptation for its accomplishments as a film.
My major concern was that the score, with its frequent divergence into dissonance and confusing harmonies, would be well beyond the reach of untrained vocalists. I love the story and the characters, but you can't do Sweeney right without doing justice to Sondheim's brilliant lyrics and composition. The few clips I heard as they were pinched and uploaded on YouTube were disappointing; Depp's voice was much too high and the spectacular Helena Bonham Carter, who stars opposite Depp as the unscrupulous Mrs. Lovett, was more or less incomprehensible. Clearly, the leads' lack of vocal experience would be a major obstacle. Why didn't they simply dub the leads, as in the case of West Side Story (my one true love of all movie-musicals)?
Now that I've actually seen the film, I can safely say that the vocals on their own are still disappointing, yet the acting in conjunction with the vocals saves this entire venture. Rarely have I seen such subtle, profound delivery in any movie-musical. Each musical number flows sensibly within the scene, enhancing the development of the plot instead of distracting the viewer. Depp's performance in particular is so spellbinding that he even made me forget that he can't sing.
The true beauty of Burton's Sweeney is the fact that, upon my first viewing, I was able to detach myself from the musical that I adore and become invested in Burton's rendition. Of course, I didn't expect this to happen. Yet the spectacularly elegant, nearly monochromatic vision of Sweeney's world was so different and yet so consistent with the stage production, and the nuanced portrayals of the beloved characters were so brilliantly executed--somehow, this film that I was certain that I would loathe actually worked for me.
The cuts made to most of the songs, though devastating to the die-hards, were necessary to maintain the very distinct tone of the film. Where the stage version is darkly humorous and campy, the film is stark and brutal like the silent horror flicks of the early twentieth century. Much of the comedy from the original is absent in Burton's version, hence the snips from "A Little Priest" and "By the Sea", and the elimination of "Parlour Songs" and "Kiss Me". The cutting of the frequently reprised "Ballad of Sweeney Todd", the most ingenious narrative device known to musical theatre, was particularly gut-wrenching for me, but miraculously, the story works without it. Who knew? All of these cuts serve to distinguish the tone of the film from the tone of the stage production. If you'll indulge me in a nerdy tangent, this difference reminds me of the Lord of the Rings films, which beautifully tell Tolkien's story in a medium that offers a drastically different tone and drastically different plot structure.
The first shot happens to be of the delightfully attractive face of Jamie Campbell Bower (Anthony), who is more beautiful than anyone has any right to be (and, though it pains me to admit it, more beautiful than Victor Garber, who originated the role of Anthony on Broadway). In a story that emphasizes the hopelessness of hope and the cruelty of innocence, there are precious few glimpses of a character who hasn't been tainted by cynicism. Anthony's love interest happens to be Sweeney's daughter Johanna (played by the creepy-looking Jayne Wisener), the would-be counterpart to Anthony's wide-eyed idealism. Both Bower and Wisener, vocally superior to the rest of the cast, are adequate in their roles. Bower delivers a mediocre rendition of "Johanna" that doesn't stand up to Garber's soaring ballad on the OBC recording, although I do admit that it was a nice touch to have him finish the tune with blood all over his pretty face. His acting throughout this number errs on the side of creepy. Garber was careful not to allow his delivery of lyrics like "Even now I'm at your window / I am in the dark beside you" venture into stalker territory, but Bower, on the other hand...well, anyway, the lad makes an honest effort in a role that's destined to be annoying.
Alan Rickman as Judge Turpin is disappointingly Snape-like. Really, I worship this man and I find his singing voice to be quite pleasant, but when he busted out that carefully contemptuous "MISTAH Todd..." I was so irresistibly reminded of that "MISTAH Pottah..." from the first Harry Potter film that my glowing vision of darling-Rickman-as-Turpin was instantly deflated. Some of his scenes are stronger than others, but overall, he failed to blow me away. I do, however, approve of the decision to address his pervy-ness without including the Judges' version of "Johanna", an exhausting and unpleasant number that serves to explain Turpin's struggle with his icky fetishes. Timothy Spall as the Beadle is splendid, on the other hand, though his brief intro to "Ladies In Their Sensitivities" is somewhat cringe-worthy. All is forgiven when I recall his wielding of the Pimp Cane of Awesomeness.
The "Pirelli's Miracle Elixir" sequence, one of my many favorites in this show, is delivered with surprising success even without the superb chorus. I wasn't as depressed by the decision to use an actual child (the remarkable Ed Sanders) to play Toby as I thought I'd be. Sanders is a mercifully expressive and mature young actor. Sacha Baron Cohen, a.k.a. Borat, astounded me by his restrained yet amusing portrayal of the traditionally flamboyant Pirelli. I can't decide which cracked me up more, his delivery of "to cut- da hair, to trim-a da beaaaaaardddd" or the alarming bulge in his unforgiving blue pants, but either way, it was a successful sequence.
And finally, I come to the leads. Carter, as I've said, is a spectacular talent and has only disappointed me in one role (she was too cackly-crazy as Bellatrix in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix). At first, her subdued take on Mrs. Lovett was off-putting, since I'm used to the adorably batty Angela Lansbury and/or the charismatic Patti LuPone in this most tricky and unglamorous of leading lady roles. Yet I grew to appreciate the nuances of Carter's Mrs. Lovett as the film progressed. The one drawback to her performance is her lack of articulation; Mrs. Lovett's part is notoriously wordy and most of the lyrics are swallowed up in Carter's sloppy enunciation. With that said, Carter masterfully uses her beautifully expressive eyes and her body language to convey Mrs. Lovett's desperate love for Sweeney; it's not at all difficult to believe that this woman would lie, cheat, and kill for this man. (Although I can't say it must have been particularly difficult to feign attraction to Depp. I'd probably be giving him the eyefuck too if I was watching him sing Sondheim's lyrics while wearing that fetching little vest-and-pinstripes number.) Her ability to simultaneously convey fear and adoration is truly impressive. One of my personal favorites of all the scenes between Carter and Depp, when Sweeney drags Mrs. Lovett into the chair during "Epiphany", exemplifies the effectiveness of Carter's body language and facial expressions: with Sweeney's razor at her throat, she is terrified yet clearly relishing his physical closeness. And whenever Carter smiles, you see the pure despair of Mrs. Lovett's desire to win Sweeney's heart. Every time Sweeney rejects Mrs. Lovett, it's easy to feel her anguish, to pull for her triumph, and to excuse her inexcusable betrayal.
Much of Carter's outstanding performance was unfortunately lost on me, since Depp as Sweeney is so electrifying that I found it difficult to take my eyes off him. I like to watch an actor commit to a role so wholeheartedly. Onstage, Sweeney is more manic, going from the elated rage of "Epiphany" to the knee-slapping glee of "A Little Priest" in a matter of minutes. George Hearn stands out in my mind as the perfect Sweeney; he manages to be mournful, murderous, dejected, composed, fatherly, unhinged, desperate, deranged, and a host of other emotions, all while maintaining a benign, charismatic persona that never permits you to really hate him, despite his monstrous deeds. In the film, Sweeney is much less transparent; Depp's Sweeney appears to become consumed by his vendetta to the point that he no longer feels anything other than the drive to enact vengeance. The incredible thing about Depp's performance is that, if you look closely enough, every emotion and every reaction is clearly etched in his dark, black-rimmed eyes. Burton photographs Depp so beautifully that it feels like we are actually in the character's mind, feeling his feelings. Like Carter, Depp is masterful in his body language, conveying the misery and insanity of this broken man. During the "Pretty Women" sequence, for example, he creates the tension, even for those of us who know that Turpin doesn't get it just yet. When Sweeney is bringing the razor closer and closer to Turpin's throat, his voice rising to a fevered shout, Depp does this thing with the hand that's on the back of the chair and makes you feel like he really is gearing up to slit this man's throat--and he's going to enjoy it. I can't say enough about the volumes Depp speaks merely with his eyes and his facial expressions in this film. In "My Friends", which happens to be one of his strongest numbers vocally, the gently enamored face he trains upon his razors shows how committed this man is to vengeance. When he delivers the line, "Now with a sigh / You grow warm in my hand", notice how turned on he appears to be. It's perfect for the moment.
Depp's physicality and facial acting join forces to provide him with his most shining moment in the "Johanna" trio, my favorite number in the original stage version. George Hearn (whom, by the way, I love with all my heart) plays this sequence with a kind of detached benevolence; he doesn't really seem to be paying attention as he's slitting the throats and sending the victims down the Chute of Fun and Cannibalism. As Sweeney, Hearn's mind is clearly on what he's singing and not what he's doing. I've always loved this take on the sequence; it allows you to feel the sadness the character feels toward the daughter he'll never know while cringing at the horrors he's so casually committing in the name of revenge. And it's important to really hear these lyrics as they're being sung over Anthony's continuous keening. They're some of the most heart-wrenchingly glorious that Sondheim has ever written. With all this personal investment, I was understandably nervous about the outcome of this number in the film. It's true that it's a little gratuitously gory (blood splattering on the camera is never REALLY necessary), but I actually think it turned out beautifully. Instead of slitting the throats as sort of an afterthought to his wistful reverie, as Hearn does, Depp does the job with hateful malice on his face and relish in his movements. It's interesting how, even with the final line of the tune ("We learn, Johanna, to say / Goodbye"), Depp slits the throat with a grimace of contemptuous glee. As I said, this interpretation is different from Hearn's, but Depp commits to it and delivers it with perfection. My only complaint is the fact that the murders are so gruesome that they distract the viewer from the lyrics and Depp's surprisingly gorgeous singing; the range needed for this number seem to suit his limited vocal ability.
In "Epiphany", however, there are a couple of rocky vocal moments. The transpositions fix the issues where they can be fixed, but you simply can't pull off the end of this number ("And I'm full of JOYYYYYYYYYY") if you're not an accomplished singer. Depp tries his damnedest, bless him, and what more can you do? I will always be partial to Len Cariou's "Epiphany" on the OBC recording. Cariou's voice is the sexiest voice on Earth, but that's a different issue altogether. I did enjoy the majority of this number a la Depp; the decision to place him imaginatively among the masses during that middle phrase was quite creative and Depp manages to be positively terrifying. Never before has any actor's rendition of "Epiphany" genuinely frightened me, and I've seen all the good ones. He wins for the scariest delivery of the "I want you bleeders" line, although I wish upon all the stars in the sky that he had gone for that evil laugh! (I suggest you check out Cariou's version, which features the sexiest and most indescribably awesome evil laugh).
I'm always uncomfortable with the acting in the final sequence, when Sweeney discovers that the beggar woman he murdered is, in fact, his wife Lucy, because I tend to find that it's executed with too much melodrama. Even Hearn has made me want to look away in shame during this scene. I suppose I'm just uncomfortable with the sight of grown men displaying overt grief, but there you go. I found Depp's quietly devastated spin on this scene an interesting alternative. He initially appears wounded and sad instead of outright horrified as he sings Lucy's name (I get choked up just thinking about it, what a baby I am when it comes to this show). When he finally presents his throat to Toby for slitting, his eyes hold all the sadness and defeat of the moment, which can still be seen in his face as his character bleeds cherry-red all over his dead wife's face.
So, to summarize, Johnny Depp accomplished the impossible by winning over a devoted Sweeney fan with his subtle, sensitive handling of an inherently difficult role. Therefore, it stands to reason that he's capable of defeating Jack Bauer.
As for the film itself, it shows you just how wondrous the cruelty of men can be, while capturing all the dark beauty of Sondheim's original vision. I strongly recommend it to anyone who doesn't have a weak stomach for things like blood spewing from necks, the thought of humans being cooked into pies, and assorted shots of roaches and rats. The strength of the film is that it doesn't attempt to be simply a movie-musical. It doesn't bow under the might of the original stage production and thus lose the elegance and character of film. Instead, it respectfully translates the essence of the original into an altered form that better suits the medium of film, and the superb performances from the ensemble cast reflect this sensible alteration. In honor of Borat, who meets his messy and untimely end at the hands of Sweeney:
