Sweeney Todd

Musicals do not readily make it from stage to screen (think, Oscar notwithstanding, Chicago) or vice versa (think Singing in the Rain). The two mediums, despite repeated attempts at rapprochement, remain radically different. Each kind must tread its allotted path.

So now we are in for a surprise. Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd, often successfully revived on the stage (though never a match for the Broadway premiere), bestrides the screen undiminished. As Sondheim remarked introducing the film at a special preview, the play and the film are different animals, to be viewed without slavish references from one to the other.

I am not sure what he meant by that. John Logan's screenplay is faithful, and all of the important songs are there. Notably missing are the "Attend the tale" prelude and a song by evil Judge Turpin as he flagellates himself while spying on his ward, Johanna, through a keyhole. (The latter was cut during previews from the original production, albeit reinserted in some revivals.) In any case, no great gain or loss.

One change, to be sure, was all but unavoidable. A stage musical subsists on its song numbers alone; a movie, according to prevalent though not undisputed wisdom, needs more of a score. Sondheim not wishing to supply it himself, director Tim Burton deputized Mike Higham with the odd title "Music Supervisor." Sensibly, he took the tunes of the songs and sympathetically expanded them orchestrally. This worked out very nicely: nothing too obviously derivative or tediously supererogatory.

Tim Burton is known for fantasies and thrillers—as well as personal eccentricities—but not for this sort of film; yet he succeeds admirably. The re-creation of a bygone London, with its somber and tortuous byways, is not literal, but rather a bow to a London of the imagination, as seen in countless movies. Indeed, the experienced production designer, Dante Ferretti, worked from Frankenstein films rather than the actual city. Green-screen photography was used, along with some dozen sets, despite much of the action being confined to Sweeney's barbershop and Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. (Details of the filming are available in a handsome companion volume published by Titan Books.)

[IMG:R]Dariusz Wolski, the cinematographer, was greatly helped by the near-monochromatic starkness of the sets but contributed some clever devices of his own—such as showing Sweeney, early on, mostly in silhouette. And as conducted by the favored Sondheim collaborator Paul Gemignani (with orchestrations by Broadway veteran Jonathan Tunick), the music contributes to the moody, suspenseful atmosphere.

For both leads, Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett, Burton chose rather younger—or younger-looking—actors than usual; nor were they known as singers. But Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter acquit themselves exemplarily, their age enhanced by wild hairdos and star statussomewhat dimmed by haggard makeup. Respectable singing by dramatic actors comes also from Alan Rickman (Judge Turpin), Timothy Small (Beadle Bamford) and the rest.

Good, too, is Burton's casting of the love interests and other roles with newcomers or lesser-knowns: Jamie Campbell Bower (Anthony), Jayne Wisener (Johanna), Sacha Baron Cohen (Pirelli, rather changed from Borat), Laura Michelle Kelly (Beggar Woman) and the schoolboy Ed Saunders as a touching Toby.

Warning: Blood spurts profusely from cut throats—like geysers from the antipathetic characters; rather more decorously, as a stream, from the sympathetic ones. But you can always close your eyes when you foresee it coming; what you cannot shut out is that this is a superior movie in every respect.