Sweeney Todd
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Music by Stephen Sondheim
Lyrics by Hugh Wheeler
Based on the play by Christopher Bond

Directed by Duncan Moore
Musically Directed by Morag Galloway
Designed by Haf Stephens

Summer 2001

When I mentioned to an actor friend of mine that I was reviewing a production of Sweeney Todd, I was given what is termed a ‘knowing look’, for whilst many of Sondheim’s musicals are revered as contemporary masterpieces, they are notorious for the skill they demand from their casts. Nowhere is this more true than in Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, hailing as it does from the true story of the eponymous throat slitter and his pie baking partner as reimagined by Christopher Bond in his play. Drawing on the genre of melodrama, it is more akin to its over-hyped predecessor than one might think. For melodrama grew out of legislation, which only allowed straight plays to be performed in licensed theatres in the West End. The musical halls adapted plays, filling them with music rather than dialogue, to allow them to go on. The subjects of these melodramas were often popular trials and stories of the darker side of London and beyond. Sondheim takes this form and makes it his own, adding to it a musicality which pastiches the sounds of the street to ballads, to the sound of the music hall itself (along with one or two show stoppers along the way for good measure). The dialogue is sparse and almost incidental, the music continuous and seamless. The characterisations are darker than you first imagine, more rounded than the archetypes that they first seem. You are lulled into a familiar world and then awoken to it.

In the intimate space of the Tabard Theatre, not the natural choice for a show conceived for the Broadway Stage, Haf Stevens created Sweeney’s London on two levels, not the smart Fleet Street in the heart of the city we know now, but a more dingy and dark place of closed knitted tenements, washing hanging across the street. Such an omnipresent backdrop becomes a versatile performance space, as each character projects their hopes and fears onto it. So Sweeney will see a London with a hole like a great black pit and claustrophobia prevails, whilst Anthony’s joyful return to the city he loves dills the same stage picture with a sense of busy, bustling humanity. The combination of innovative staging, subtle suggestion and evocative lighting, not only overcame the difficulties of the space but also utilised and drew upon them. Hidden behind netting, as though from the back room of a public house, pianist Nathan Jarvis lurked, the solitary musician, reminiscent of the accompanist to those silent movies or in the music hall itself, striking up the open chords, equally dark, equally menacing. Here we begin, with the chorus opening up the Ballad of Sweeney Todd, with mesmerising poise and impeccable diction, one of the many hallmarks of Morag Galloway’s committed, inspired and energetic musical direction, which provided the very lifeblood of the show.

But whilst the show demands the heightened reality of the musical form, the story and portrayal of vents and people remain multi-layered. Duncan Moore’s direction encouraged in his actors a three dimensional exploration of the characters themselves resulting in a far more developed story world than the archetypes so readily available. Mark Sidey’s Sweeney, therefore, was less the demon and more the broken man, absent mindedly slitting the throats of his victims while his mind focused on the injustices of the past, an anti-hero, pushed just that little bit too far by a duplicitous society where anyone can get away with anything if they’re clever enough; taking his vengeance just a little too far, being seduced by it. Mark Sidey brought to his role absolute conviction, allowing us to be moved and appalled by him simultaneously. Similarly Lisa Thorner’s brash and comic Mrs Lovett took control of her stage with great ease, combining tenderness with manipulation, the reality of her crime sitting uncomfortably with her barely concealed feminine vulnerability in a passionate and unafraid performance.

As the ingénue lovers, Jennifer Ord and Andrew Williams were the only beacon of innocence in this contradictory world. Yet even here characterisation did not fall into stereotype. As Joanna, Jennifer Ord broke hearts as she sang to the caged birds, pleasing for freedom, but her spirited and almost stubborn core led her to quite unthinkingly shooting Mr Fogg as she escaped from the asylum. Andrew Williams’ Antony floated on a cloud of love throughout, moving between entrapment and ardency. Their voices blended so harmoniously when they sang together and kissed, for a moment the rest of this seedy world just faded away.

Nowhere was the duplicitous world more apparent than in the machinations of Judge Turpin and his toady Beadle. Piers Burnell’s Turpin bared it all, quite literally, in a powerful portrayal of a sadistic and vile man, abusing his power to satisfy his inner desires. Robert Bailey’s Beadle was sycophantic and psycho in equal measure, quite at home breaking the necks of songbirds but still enjoying a good ballad when he had a moment.

In their many roles this chorus demonstrated fabulous commitment to their characters and the music, exemplifying ensemble playing and essentially creating the world of the play with their presence. Elaine Ingolfsrud worried me when she volunteered to readily to have her tooth pulled, whilst Ashley Lovell’s pie eating was unfortunately punctuated by an over ardent Mrs Lovett. Charlotte Sayers and Helen Hooper made rather convincing inhabitants of the asylum, as did Annabel Jones and Margot Montigny, watched over by a seedy Matthew South as Mr Fogg. I was rather disturbed by Kunal Dutta’s lack of concern for the song birds he blinded, and when Cathy Burnell became yet another victim in the chair her death was impeccable. Simon Johnson’s opening of the ballad set the scene immediately, whilst as the representative of the law, Matthew Scott made a rather welcome appearance in the closing momentsÉ with all this going on it was a relief to see a man in uniform.

Nowhere was the chorus’ power more apparent than in the street scene where Sweeney is pitted against fellow Barber, Adolfo Pirelli. In their midst Andrew Watson’s exuberant performance as the Italian fraudster was stunning in its energy. Marcus Mollan, as the simpleton Tobias, combined an unworldly innocence with an unnerving fascination, until in the closing moments of the play, his disturbed and childlike mutterings left you with a chill in your heart. Finally, ducking and diving through the crowd as the other disturbed mind, Rachel Dyson’s beggar woman became the harbinger of gloom, energetic in her advances, pathetic in her wonderings.

If this production of Sweeney Todd had to be commended for one thing alone, it would be for the off stage and on stage passion of cast and crew. Every difficulty was overcome and turned to an advantage. Praise should go to the stage manager Ian Bernard for the slickness of the production, to Stewart Moore for innovative set and prop construction, Genevieve Wilson for producing a show so complex, and to Duncan Moore and Morag Galloway for having the courage to stage it in the first place.