Killing me with pleasure

Isn't it great when something surpasses your expectations? I went to see Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street only because I had to kill time before my parents arrived in New York. The two hours at the theater were more than well worth it.

Even if one walked into Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street with no knowledge of its source material (Stephen Sondheim's 1979 musical), the opening credits would provide more than a hint of the macabre nature of the subsequent two hours. Director Tim Burton and production designer Dante Ferretti mix blood, rats, meat pies, sausages and sewers in gross glee, cleverly providing plot points. Sweeney Todd is not for the faint of stomach, but its odd beauty makes it an artistic wonder.

The story is one of Benjamin Barker (frequent Burton collaborator Johnny Depp), an ex-convict barber returning to 19th-century London to seek murderous vengeance. His ultimate target is Severus Snape himself, Alan Rickman … er, Judge Turpin, who stole Barker’s wife, now deceased, and young daughter, whom the villain plans to marry. To snag his man, Barker, a.k.a. Sweeney Todd, works with meat-pie saleswoman Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter) to cook up mutually beneficial solutions.

Never mind the recent Daniel Day-Lewis epic - there will be blood in Sweeney Todd. Lots of blood. It spurts and gushes like steam out of a manhole, and it’s an awesome sight. The blood shows up more ruby than crimson, flowing against a shadowy gray-white background. Hair and makeup artist Ivana Primorac heightens the Gothic romantic nature by making Depp and Bonham Carter appear increasingly ghoulish as their characters’ depravity grows.
And with Sweeney Todd drained of so much color, occasional bursts of brightness, such as the peacock suit worn by Sacha Baron Cohen’s barber Pirelli, are more shocking.

If Edward Scissorhands, another Burton/Depp creation, had gone crazy, Sweeney might be the result. The hair is wilder, the skin more ashen, the love of blades far greater; Sweeney even sings an ode to them. He slashes his patrons’ throats with zeal, he’s single-minded in his hatred, and yet he’s magnetic. Depp has captured the tortured Barker’s passion and soul.

Her vocals may not be much stronger than Jennifer Lopez’s - the score often overwhelms them - but as the love-struck Mrs. Lovett, Bonham Carter is one saucy minx. She truly acts through her singing, a difficult feat. Bonham Carter's Lovett is desperate and devious, a woman in need of company and desiring of Sweeney's affection, and she'll do literally anything to get them. During the lone, deliberately jarring Technicolor sequence by a Cape May-esque seaside, Bonham Carter's sad eyes brighten as she trills of wished-for happiness with her killing machine. Alas, the fantasy remains just that.

(One gripe: Bonham Carter's costumes needed to be better fitted. The actress was pregnant during filming, and in some scenes this is poorly concealed.)

Broadway purists may argue with the changes Burton and writer John Logan have made to the libretto, such as shortening the book by almost an hour and de-emphasizing the focus on the Industrial Revolution. As a film, though, Sweeney Todd makes for killer entertainment.