Burton's Todd gets a vat of venom, and deserves it.

Rating: 1/10 (8 April 2008)

It would have been nice had Tim Burton produced a "Sweeney Todd" that did a certain amount of justice to Steven Sondheim's masterwork. Unfortunately, what Sondheim wrote and Burton put out bear only the most casual resemblance to each other  namely, they have a lot of the same words and much of the same music  assuming that you prefer Shakespeare's witches acting like Wagner's norns (Anna Russell: "this dreary set of women"), or prefer Beethoven's 5th taken at the tempo of Chopin's funeral march. Blech!
It should be noted that there are already available 2 other versions of this opera (yes, I know it has spoken dialogue, but so does Carmen when it's done properly). Both star the talented George Hearn as Sweeney. One is the 1982 fully staged version with Angela Lansbury grasping immortality as Mrs. Lovett. The other is the 2001 concert version with the great Patti LuPone. Ms LuPone does an undeniable star turn in this role, but fails to achieve Lansbury's high orbit. Hearn is a tremendous Sweeney, although in 2001 he's showing the 19 elapsed years since the last recording. I would recommend either of these entries, although my recommendation of the 1982 version is unqualified, enthusiastic, and excited.
And now Tim Burton tackles the Demon Barber. Burton is an erratic director who often hits the heights but here sinks to a new low in this thing that is less a performance than a travesty.
The reader may notice I mention none of the other performers. This is done mostly to protect the innocent. They do well enough, but their quality is still leagues from the 1982 version. As in nearly everything that went wrong with this Sweeney, I blame the director.
Somebody must have told Burton that Sweeney Todd is a dark comedy. He seems to have forgotten about the "comedy" and concentrated on the "dark"  to great excess, alas. Practically everything is filmed through blue filters  which may have been considered clever technique 50 years ago but is now just a strain on the eyes.
On first viewing the film, and assuming you know the score, the first thing you will notice is the complete absence of the chorus. Considering the deep relationship between Sweeney and Greek theater, this omission is akin to dropping the witches from Macbeth. It is this omission that robs the work of its dimensionality and causes the ending to fall flatter than last week's soufflé.
Aside from the directorial murder of the chorus and its music, this performance contains a number of omissions, truncations, and abbreviations. The flagellation scene, as I recall, is gone. The Todd-Pirelli contest contains only the shaving part, not the tooth-pulling half. (This omission is fairly common in performance, alas). The Beggar Woman's part is excised by about 50%, including most of the best bits. The "God, That's Good" number is foreshortened to the point of being seen on edge. The wildly funny lead up to Beadle Bamford's murder is gone. And so on and on. Somebody should remind Burton that this is a recipe for hash, not honest roast beef.
Burton's directorial aim seems clearly to rob Sweeney of almost every ounce of its considerable humor. He fails, and there's enough left to cause us to go into deep mourning for the rest. "Hello, my name is Tim. I'm here to make sure you don't have any fun." He seems to desire the players to be a funereal in their acting as possible.
As a result, a great actor like Johnny Depp is converted into somebody you'd never want to see or hear again. Depp, clearly too young for the role, is made up to look like somebody in a 1930s horror flick instead of someone who's spent nearly 2 decades in the penal sloughs of Old Australia. He plays Sweeney as if the man were loopy, which he isn't. He has a detached, dreamy delivery and never, NEVER catches fire. I suppose this approach may be considered interesting in a sort of abstract way, but mainly it's boring and tedious. Despite all the cuts, the film is only about a quarter-hour shorter than the 1982 and 2001 versions  yet it seems to drag out a lot longer. You do the math.
Perhaps the weakest link in the whole cast is Helena Bonham Carter, who is manifestly too young to play Mrs. Lovett. Her makeup may be intended to age her, but merely gives her a tired and haggard appearance. Lovett's first appearance should wrench the viewer's attention onto her relentlessly. Bonham Carter's first appearance gives us time to see if there are any pictures on the ceiling. The less said about "Have a Little Priest", probably the better. There are a few clever moments, but only in the sense of a convergence of a visual clue to the lyrics  a technique that doesn't hold up well with repetition. Bonham Carter's motherly effusions over Toby wouldn't convince a 3-month-old puppy.
Speaking of puppies, the staging of this dog omits the original wonderful mechanistic set in favor of a more realistic presentation of London. This can be understood, since films generally try to transcend the limitations of the stage. In this case, however, the relationship of staging with plot is too organic to be so lightly dismissed.
Look, guys  if you buy this you'll regret it  maybe not now, but later and for the rest of your life. (Thanks, Rick.) Try the Lansbury.