Sweeney Todd

 The SET was open to view in the dimly lit hall, gloomily evoking Victorian London.  An immense construction of wooden railings, smoke-blackened brickwork, steps, windows and doorways, it wrapped itself around the sides of the auditorium, enclosing the onlookers in the oppressive ambience, with wholly congruous dressings of barrels, crates  and ropes.  Facebook had alerted us to the double storey revolve so it wasn’t a surprise when this massive structure turned, with apparent effort but nevertheless smoothly, to reveal Sweeney’s room, complete with efficient chute, above Mrs Lovett’s pie shop, but that wasn’t all this ingenious design had to offer.  The arches gave not only access for the cast but also allowed infill of the oven door, or accommodated the grinding machine, and a previously unseen corner revealed the shop’s office desk, while a discreet opening showed the bottom of the chute.   A small platform was manoeuvred through the DL archway and with a canopied topping served as the stage for Pirelli.  It was removed with the same care and no collisions.  The numerous pathways around the stage with its different levels and constantly changing aspects gave the most menacing representation of both the grim environment and the era, and was exceptionally impressive.  

LIGHTING: One could be forgiven for thinking that London never saw daytime in the mid-nineteenth century based on the chillingly atmospheric plot, but of course the pea-soupers of the day probably gave that impression.  In a constant smoky haze, cross lighting to highlight profiles, shafts of fractured downlight for dramatic effect, backlighting to outline silhouettes, bursts of red to emphasise Sweeney’s anger, (particularly disturbing when turned onto the audience) and break up gobos to define contrasting areas, all came and went in the blink of an eye conjuring rapt attention on the action.  Sweeney Todd’s reminiscences were spotlit in ghostly blue/grey while the lovers’ duets were appropriately treated to a warmer pink glow.  An unusual effect during City On Fire saw red-hot lighting thrown upwards from the central aisle, while that of the smoke and moving flames burning behind the oven door was most intimidating.  

SOUND:  We heard atmospheric sounds and creepy whispering voices, before piercing screeches opened the show, and were subsequently used intermittently for ‘shock’ effect.  A recorded voiceover supplemented Sweeney’s writing of his letter to the Judge.  All the leading roles were mic’d and for the most part were audible.  Single lines sometimes missed the first word when it seemed they were not turned on in time, and occasionally the dialogue was not brought up above the underscoring.  Female voices could benefit from mastering spoken vocal projection that doesn’t involve simply going up an octave.    

PROPS: The seabags of Anthony and Sweeney were credible as were Mrs Lovett’s shop contents and baking paraphernalia, with her dusty pies suitably unappetising.  The Beadle was equipped with a threatening nightstick and the bird seller with a collection of roughly made cages on a primitive wooden- wheeled trolley.  Both barbers had shaving mugs and cut-throat razors and Sweeney’s was cleverly adapted to deliver the necessary blood.  Johanna’s reticule, Tobias’s satchel of tiny glass bottles, pewter mugs and jugs were all in keeping with the period and their contemporaneous detail helped to enhance the overall vision.  All were integral and handled seamlessly. 

COSTUMES:  The cast were all dressed to reflect the era with a variety of styles, fabrics and colours on display.  Tall bell top hats, derbies and baker’s boy caps, mob caps and bonnets demonstrated a cross section of status as did the varying states of repair.  Lace mittens, fingerless gloves, frock coats, caped coats, shawls and waistcoats were evidence of careful attention to detailing the period.  As his fortune improved, Sweeney had a timely change to gold waistcoat and stock, and Mrs Lovett’s kitchen pinny was exchanged for a grand new gown.  Pirelli was splendid in purple velvet suit admirably suiting his ‘showman’ persona and Judge Turpin made a neat swap from judicial robes to a smart red satin waistcoat and frogged jacket.  Ballgowns were donned for a single scene by a select few of the Ensemble and the accompanying commedia dell’arte masks lent the necessary menacing air.  All outfits allowed unhampered freedom of movement and greatly added to the general spectacle. 

MUSIC:  The talented group of ten musicians provided excellent backing for two and a half hours almost non-stop without losing concentration.  The score is famously difficult with demanding ranges for the singers, key changes, tempo changes, counter-melodies and deliberate discords, often all within the same song.  Sung through with little narrative provided in conversation, it is essential to the plot that the words are crystal clear.  Therein lies another complication, as Sondheim has written so that the words come with barely time to breathe and in repetitions that have minuscule alterations to challenge the memory!   With amateur, predominantly untrained, voices it is inevitable that diction will be a casualty, as may tunefully holding your line against someone else’s other.  Enunciation exercises and crisp articulation are the stock in trade of professional singers doing it constantly but it could be said that what we lack in precision we make up for in enthusiasm!   On the whole we were able to hear what was important and if some of the sparkling lyrics were missed, no doubt our excitement filled in the gaps, or the cleverness of the presentation had more relevance, as in the enjoyably artful Kiss Me Quartet. 

DIRECTION:  What a task to bring this mammoth show to the stage - or rather to an empty hall!  Even the stage was your creation, realising a vision some time in the making.  Huge congratulations on what has rightly received very complimentary comments on social media and certainly made a great impact on the audience.  With so many society members wanting to be in such a renowned production you had a wide choice when casting your leads and consequently selected a strong half dozen who were able to carry their roles with conviction.  It was a daring decision to allow all-comers to take part in the Ensemble, in effect doubling the suggested cast size indicated by MTI.  The more voices you have, the harder it is to achieve unison in both articulation and pitch - and we did hear some questionable ‘harmonies’!  By positioning them on the balconies around the sides a lot of the time you avoided an overcrowded stage except when it suited the scene, as in Pirelli’s Miracle Elixir and God, That’s Good!, when you realistically created a public throng.  Good use was made of the spaces available with lighting helping the transitions between scenes, and getting from one area to the next was cleverly contrived.  Little moments of light-hearted ‘choreographed’ movement punctuated what was otherwise a non-dance show and added some comic relief from the dark and macabre tale.  Congratulations.  This was a first rate show enjoyed by all who saw it.

 

 

 

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