“Vengeance is mine,” says God, and rightly so.
We’re hardly equipped to handle it.
Sweeney Todd, the story of a man wronged by the cruel oppression of the powerful. Accused of a crime he didn’t commit so that a lustful judge (as only Alan Rickman can do it) might have Benjamin Barker’s wife, Barker is sent to Australia. Years later, he escapes and returns to London, under the assumed name of Sweeney Todd, to find his wife and regain his daughter.
But Lucy (his wife) is “dead,” and the daughter, now the ward of the evil judge.
And so begins a journey of revenge, growing darker as it unfolds.
Without giving it away, the story hinges on irony that can only end in a final tragedy. I suppose we might say, those who live by the razor die by the razor.
Technically, what we have come to expect from Tim Burton – visually a flawless film, typically gruesome, but stylishly so - and musically (Stephen Sondheim), very powerful. I’m a reluctant fan of musicals. When I was younger, I didn’t like them at all, but in recent years, I’ve come to appreciate the art, the science, of a good musical, I suppose some of this is related to my interest in opera – just another musical, if you will, telling a common story of love lost, love found, maybe, and all the attendant tricks of the trade, with plenty of sadness and vengeance.
I found myself entranced by Johnny Depp’s gifted portrayal of a man twisted by great sorrow. Helena Bonham Carter’s Mrs. Lovett is equally flawless. Her character is just as skewed as Todd, though addled by love rather than revenge. She becomes Todd’s “partner” in crime because she has always loved him.
Their pancake makeup and darkened eyes corresponds to the smoke and smog of Victorian London – an eerie Tim Burton device.
The film ends with lots of twists and turns.
Clearly, an achievement in musical filmmaking.
