Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, directed by Harold Prince, starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearn.
“Attend the tale of Sweeney
Todd!
His skin was pale and his
eye was odd;
He shaved the faces of
gentlemen
Who never thereafter were
heard of again.
He trod a path that few have
trod,
Did Sweeney Todd,
The Demon Barber of Fleet
Street.
He kept a shop in London town
Of fancy clients and good
renown;
And what if none of their
souls were saved,
They went to their Maker
impeccably shaved
By Sweeney,
By Sweeney Todd:
The Demon Barber of Fleet
Street.”
What a charming introduction! You can
hardly wait to meet the man, I’m sure! And you do soon enough, for he joins in
with the Chorus and principal cast members in this opening number of the
musical, addressing the audience, Brechtian-style.
Who exactly is Sweeney Todd? Man or myth? Actually, a little of
both. He made his first appearance in a short story entitled “The String of
Pearls” written by one Thomas Prest; and serialised in a cheap newspaper, a
“penny dreadful” as they were called, in London in 1846. Mr. Prest used to
search the news for his story ideas; and it’s possible he drew inspiration from
recent gruesome happenings --- most notably of a barber near Fleet Street who
cut a customer’s throat in a jealous rage, believing the latter to be having an
adulterous relationship with his wife; next, a Scotsman called Sawney Bean, who
was probably one of the most successful serial-killers of all time, being known
to have murdered around 160 passers-by and then eaten the corpses, in
collaboration with his family; and, most significantly, the chronicles of
Joseph Fouche, the Minister of Police in Paris around 1800, who wrote of a
barber who killed his customers and supplied their bodies to a neighbouring
pastry-cook, to be served-up as pies. Similarly, Todd’s accomplice is Mrs.
Lovett, who runs an eatery and cooks his victims.
The story had many subsequent avatars. In earlier versions, Mrs.
Lovett was a reluctant or oblivious accessory; and one of Todd’s early victims
--- in fact, in George Dibdin Pitt’s melodrama “The Fiend of Fleet Street”
(which had a long and successful run) she herself was disposed of, halfway
through the play.
It was the British playwright Christopher Bond who lifted this story
from the realms of gruesome Grand Guignol and sensationalist melodrama; and
gave the characters psychological resonance and motivation, in his play
“Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street” which opened in 1973 at the
Theatre Royal, Stratford East. This was seen by Stephen Sondheim, who
commissioned Hugh Wheeler to adapt the script into a “book” for a musical.
In melodrama, characters are seen as either black or white. Bond
made his ogre human, a man wronged by the system; sent away on a trumped-up
charge to an overseas prison-colony, by a lecherous judge who coveted his wife.
He returns after years, only to find she was raped by the Judge and then took
poison; and his daughter in the clutches of the same Judge who now wants to
marry her. When his plans for revenge fail, his mind snaps and he vows to vent
his anger on the entire human race, which allows such cruelty to exist.
Luckily for him, his landlady, the pie-shop owner Mrs. Lovett whose
business is failing, is only too willing to dispose of the victims
expeditiously --- and profitably! She is cheerfully amoral, a cannibalistic
capitalist who is actually quite lovable because she is so utterly honest ---
until her own duplicity comes to light. She is also shown to have an amorous
interest in Todd --- unrequited, because he is still obsessed with his wife.
And then there are the “good” characters --- Todd’s daughter Johanna,
prisoner of the Judge and the archetypal damsel-in-distress; the sailor,
appropriately named Anthony Hope, who saves Sweeney from shipwreck, brings him
home to London and then falls in love with his captive daughter; and Tobias,
Mrs. Lovett’s simple-minded helper who dotes on “Mum” and is determined to
protect her from “demons” such as Sweeney.
Then there is the Beggar Woman --- a mad hag, whore and scavenger,
who mysteriously appears at key moments in the plot, indicating she has a
greater significance than she implies. That significance is made evident in the
play’s denouement, where she becomes the embodiment of innocence defiled.
And then, there is London
itself, accurately portrayed as it was in 1846, a city of crime and grime; of
filthy sewers, polluted air and corrupt morals; its lawgivers as lawless as its
law-breakers; the perfect Dickensian setting for this macabre tale.
Harold Prince, the director of the original production, would certainly agree. He has described his conception as
“the incursion of the Industrial Age; and its influence on souls, poetry and
people”. The curtain rises on a huge iron foundry, with a cloth hanging in
front, depicting the British Beehive or social structure with the King at the top,
the Parliament, Judiciary, Church and so on, going downwards to the lowest
common denominator. An organist plays; two workmen enter and tear-down the
hanging to the sound of a shrill factory-whistle, exposing a rusty world of
girders, gears and overbridges. The back wall eventually rises to reveal a
screen with a sketch of London
at the time, Thames and all.
This was a bone of contention between Prince and Sondheim, who
apparently preferred his work to be seen as a more intimate exploration of one
man’s misbegotten obsession, rather than assume epic proportions. However, I
think this union of universal and personal has produced a very
credible love-child that defies classification; and very happily exists at
whichever level you choose to look at it.
And speaking of children, seldom has a marriage of music and lyrics
been so productive, because the progenitor in this case was one --- Stephen
Sondheim. In writing what is perhaps his most ambitious and complex score,
Sondheim matched it to coruscating, uncompromising lyrics; pithy and witty,
defiant and disturbing. Music and word, music and character, music and mood,
all combine to create a magnificent melange. The parts of this musical live and
breathe as one; even though some of the combinations are
certainly unorthodox: for example, a gang-rape to a courtly dance; the famous
duet about cannibalism, crackling with black humour, to the rhythm of a
Viennese waltz; graphic throat-cuttings to music of poignant lyricism. And yet,
when lyricism occurs, it is ALWAYS underscored by uneasy harmony or murky
underpinning, that reflects (and promotes) a feeling of something not quite
right. And this feeling remains with the listener, in spite of the dips into
comic patter-singing, operatic floridity and music-hall kitsch.
Musicians and music-lovers will marvel at the
inventiveness and sheer intelligence of the writing (especially in the complex
and densely-layered ensembles); would certainly recognise the influence of
several 20th Century composers; and follow the many leitmotifs floating about, subtly
elucidating the drama; and ultimately revealing clues about what is hidden and
what’s about to happen --- for this is, according to its creator, “a musical
thriller”. The two most significant among these motifs are Sweeney’s long-lost
wife’s theme; and the Dies Irae, the traditional liturgical chant from the
Latin Requiem, depicting the Day of Judgement, which appears in the Prologue as
the Chorus sings, “Swing your razor wide, Sweeney!” and then re-appears at
appropriate moments, turning Sweeney the barber with his razor held high, into
the Grim Reaper with his unwavering scythe.
Finally, and above all, there is the sound of the factory whistle
that begins the play. It recurs repeatedly and frighteningly --- and becomes a
shriek of terror and anguish, a war-cry and also a symbol of oppressive
authority; a fitting signature to a piece that states:
“The
history of the world, my sweet,
Is
who gets eaten and who gets to eat…
Its
man devouring man, my dear,
And
who are we to deny it in here?”
