21/12/07

madrobins: It's a meatloaf.  Dressed up like a bunny.  (Default)
So today, a marathon of good works (from 7:45am until almost 5pm we were working on the dinner for the homeless, which went beautifully. The girls were swell, the clients were fed and happy, and I washed dishes for something like three straight hours). It was swell. Then, as a promised treat, we went to see Sweeney Todd. WOund up bringing two of Avocado's Girl Scout friends with us (I hope to God their mothers will let my daughter play with theirs again after this) and we all--our family and the two extra girls--had pizza beforehand. Now Avocado and her pals are having a sleepover, and Spouse and I are cowering in our room, trying to stay away from the noise. Poor Emily, who spent most of the day in her crate, will probably be the most tried by all this excitement, but that's what she gets for being a dog.

Okay. Bear in mind that I saw Angela Lansbury and George Hearn three times, and that I know virtually every line in the show. So take what I saw with a spoonful of chicken bouillion (or maybe a lick of blood).

Sweeney Todd is far better than I had feared, and maybe not quite as good as I had hoped. As the Spouse noted, no one had a markedly better voice than anyone else (although I was pleasantly surprised at Alan Rickman, particularly on Pretty Women). Johnny Depp has a little bit of pop slide from note to note, which I find distracting because it's such a modern thing. Helena Bonham Carter has a reedy, slight voice, which was fine with her character as she plays it, but every now and then she cut a note shorter that should (both in terms of the original score and dramatic emphasis) have been sustained. Sacha Baron Cohen is having too much fun. And the three juveniles--the people who played Anthony, Joanna and Toby--were very good. The look and feel and pacing are terrific; it's the first Tim Burton film I've seen in which I forgot the "settiness" of the sets fairly early on. It's compelling, and the music is...well, hell, the music is gorgeous. It's Sondheim, who is like unto a god and all that. I mean, really.

I think the problems I had with it are Tim Burton's, and what bothered me can be capsulated in how he handled "A Little Priest." It's the act one finale, and killer. It happens just after Sweeney, balked at his goal, has decided that he's gonna kill as many people as he possibly can (I'm being deliberately vague here, just in case). And Nellie Lovett comes up with the idea to bake his victims into meat pies. From the absolute horror and frustration and rage and pathos of the song immediately before ("Epiphany") suddenly we're in darkest comedy: they start riffing on what different people would taste like ("try the Friar; fried, it's drier." "No, the clergy is really too coarse and too mealy!" "Then actor! That's compact-er." "Yes, and always arrives overdone"). The way Hearn and Lansbury did it, they were giddy with the joke, poking each other and giggling while planning to do away with half of London ("everybody shaves, so there should be plenty of flavors!") The way Burton directs it, there are plenty of visual jokes, but none of the rollicking, panicky delirium and fun of the original. And without that fun, without the occasional moments of sweetness, without a sense that Lucy and Joanna (Todd's wife and daughter) are more than an idea to him, that they are the people who made his life worth living, the show isn't a tragedy, it's a horror movie. This is in line with the (to my mind) unnecessary amounts of gore.

Lest this sound too critical, I think it's worth seeing. There are moments of musically heartbreaking beauty and some very good performances. I liked it. You might like it too. Let me know, will you?