Sweeney Todd (2007)
Directed by Tim Burton
***1/4
Glamorous
Tim Burton knows how to put on a good show. Unlike those other artistes of the visual (Julie Taymor, Terry Gilliam, etc), he's not going to let any moment go to waste — or any detail. While not all of his films are successes (Big Fish sprawled too much), you've come to expect a tightly wound, cotton candy of a story from Tim Burton. Well, perhaps some cotton candy with something malodorous lurking inside.
Sweeney Todd delivers the stylistic goods. It's so compact, so streamlined and yet so entertaining, that its running time of almost two hours skips by as merrily as a little girl into traffic. The story is simple, and so confined that it feels like we're experiencing it in real-time. It's like Richard Linklater on a seriously glamorous trip.
Gruesome
But let's face it: we all know Sweeney Todd isn't about glam. If you're watching it for the looks, you're in for a rude awakening. I hadn't seen this much blood on film since The Passion of the Christ.
The story is compelling enough that it keeps you magnetized, though, for better or worse. And for most of the film, you don't see the violence coming. At least not violence this gruesome.
This is the tale of Benjamin Barker, a naïve young barber who's married to a beautiful woman with a beautiful baby daughter. Unfortunately for dim-witted Benjamin, the creepy Judge Turpin (a snivelly Alan Rickman) also fancies his wife, and for a man in his position, that means a meeting of a little too much desire with a little too much power. Barker is exiled for a trumped-up charge and is away for years.
Gripping
However, this story is about the return. It's about vengeance, and poetic justice. It's like The Count of Monte Cristo meets Oldboy meets a slasher flick, set in Victorian England. Oh, did I mention that it's a musical?
This to me was the most astonishingly successful aspect of the film. I tend to hold my nose in disgust at the average musical — probably because the form is so artificial that everything else has to be just right if it's going to be compelling. It can happen, to be sure. But Burton raises the bar: can the actors themselves sing? Is Johnny Depp aria-worthy?
The answer is yes. This man is truly unbelievably. His performance, as the slightly conflicted, curious, newly-reborn Sweeney Todd, is amazing enough on its own. But Johnny sings like he acts: you feel like he's got a firm grip on your collar.
The supporting cast is simply wonderful. Helena Bonham Carter as the homey, grimy baker of the worst meat pies in town (that is, until Sweeney shows up). Timothy Spall as the weaselly Beadle Bamford, the Judge's trusty sidekick. Even Sacha Baron Cohen (unrecognizable to many viewers) as the "Italian" Signor Adolfo Pirelli.
Throw in some lyrics as brutally honest as "we all deserve to die" ("Epiphany") and "there's a hole in the world like a great black pit" ("No Place like London"), a tangibly murky atmosphere and a dozen or more slit throats — and you've got Sweeney Todd, for better or worse.
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