As an undoubted masterpiece of 20th-century musical theatre, Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s gory fable Sweeney Todd has proven to be a relentless muse for directors all over the world. Since its Broadway premiere in 1979, this story of a revenge-fuelled barber’s murderous reign of terror has been transplanted into East London pie shops, ‘70s council flats, Depression-era slums, and a whole laundry list of other unexpected settings besides. And yet, sometimes the best creative tack is to stick to the tried and true – so while the Sydney Opera House debut of this grim and gothic production may not seek to reinvent the demon barber of Fleet Street, it still delivers a show that goes straight for the jugular.
Director Stuart Maunder offers us a Penny Dreadful come to life. Out of the shadows and smog, a horrid troupe of Victorian spectres – gin-soaked harlets; flat-capped dock workers; disdainful gentry – emerge to warn us of the dangers skulking in the darkness. Right from the off, the white-knuckle hysteria of Sondheim’s merciless vocal extremes and the hints of the Dies Irae funeral march cut through with an unnerving taint of dissonant harmony gets the blood pumping and sets the 19th-century melodrama tone this production channels. Roger Kirk’s staging of grimey wooden scaffolds and soot-stained brick walls coupled with Philip Lethlean’s eerie lighting design amps up this period energy further still, summoning the dank gloaming of London’s cobblestoned streets and the venous-red terror of Todd’s homicidal ambitions.
The action can turn on a razor’s edge from dark and forbidding to cheeky and comedic
One of Sondheim’s most masterful sleights of hand in Sweeney Todd is how the action can turn on a razor’s edge from dark and forbidding to cheeky and comedic. Indeed, it’s these near-vertical peaks and troughs in both the storytelling and the music that make this show so thrilling – and difficult to pull off. It takes a highly-gifted cast just to deliver a passable account, but to conjure a production with the nuance, clarity and emotional heft of this one takes virtuosos of world-class quality.
Helming this superb ensemble, Ben Mingay is a juggernaut of a Sweeney. His imposing physicality and rich, muscular baritone underpins a portrayal that thrums with hair-trigger violence and yet remains capable of tenderness when needed. Opposite him, Antoinette Halloran is as perfect a Mrs Lovett as you could possibly wish for. Her characterisation of the ruthlessly manipulative pie maker who turns her customers into cannibals is deliciously lurid. From thinly veiled euphemisms, such as the suggestive stroke of a rolling pin, to bare-faced gropes, Halloran’s performance is peppered with bawdy, lustful winks to her myopic desires for Todd. Nimbly shifting from hilarity to horror, it’s a masterclass in wringing every last drop of dramatic colour from a role without it curdling into pantomime. Halloran is not just the finest Lovett on Australian shores, but one worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Angela Lansbury, Imelda Staunton and Patti LuPone as one of the greatest ever champions of the part.
The supporting cast is equally impressive, notably the wonderfully cringe-inducing Kanen Breen, as the slithering, sycophantic Beadle Banford and Dean Vince as the corrupt Judge Turpin, whose more refined tone proves a perfect foil for Mingay’s gruffer timbre. One of the unavoidable hurdles of Sondheim’s densely layered score is that there are moments when so many lyrics are superimposed, hurtling at the listener with daunting speed, that it can be hard to unriddle what’s being said. While there are certainly moments when this issue simply cannot be avoided, the level of diction from this cast, in particular the patter-song-laden role of Tobias Ragg, delivered with unflappable confidence by Jeremi Campese, ensures as much of the text as possible reaches the audience’s ears.
The only notable shortcomings of this co-production between the Victorian Opera and New Zealand Opera are the limitations of the venue. The acoustic of the Opera House’s Drama Theatre is so inert and antiseptic, that even with the cast amplified, the sound quality is rather two-dimensional. But even with this minor handicap, the deftness and detail achieved in this production does the late Sondheim’s bloody vision proud – a bold, brazen and breathtakingly entertaining experience, any way you slice it.
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is playing at the Sydney Opera House until August 27, 2023. Tickets range from $59-$139 and you can slice them up over here.
Time Out got the first word from Antoinette Halloran and Stuart Maunder ahead of the Sydney season. Slice into that intriguing read over here to learn more about this thrilling production.
