One might think that ‘Sweeney Todd’ is one of the more macabre subjects to write a musical about. Such considerations did not bother Stephen Sondheim. He knew that the juxtaposition of scary subject matter and beautiful melody (the aftermath of the terrifying Anschluss; the seamy underbelly of child-poverty in Victorian London; cross-racial New York family feuds; the violent Japanese war in the Pacific, and the bloody French Revolution, amongst others) have provided lyricists and composers with the inspiration to stage big hits. ‘Sweeney Todd’ is no exception, but I think it can be counted as one of the very darkest and goriest of tales. I’ll just say this – if Mr S. Todd of Fleet Street knows any jokes, he keeps them to himself.
Sadly, there are no free tickets to ‘Miss Saigon’ to readers who correctly matched the horrible happenings to the fine musical show. But a free warm fuzzy feeling will have to do instead.
My wife had earlier complained that I had chosen poorly as we tried to access the Lowther Pavillion via the dark inner park-paths rather than freezing on the sea-facing pavements. I had no coat. Not because I am ‘too kool for skool’ but because I am obviously now too old to remember important things. We were confronted by huge MDF boarding, stopping us from accessing the front of the theatre, so had to make our way round, using phone-torches. Yet she soon forgave me when she sat enthralled at her first school musical, remarking to me afterwards that it is sometimes hard to credit that these talented young people are just school students – a testament to all their hard work and the amazing encouragement and expertise of their teachers – of which more later.
What a good job not everyone is like Sweeney Todd in personality. According to the show notes, he has returned from deportation to ‘take revenge on the corrupt judge who ruined his life’ (fair enough, I guess). And then yet failing to get his revenge, he ‘swears vengeance on the entire human race’. So, he has a take on life both gruesome and decidedly illogical. It was therefore little wonder that Henry Clarkson, as the eponymous anti-hero, spent most of the time angry and sullen - from the bottom of his Captain Haddock beard (very convincing too) to his thickly macassared hair. What a fine voice this young man possesses, and he inhabited his part with a glowering intensity, and highly effective power of expression.
We first meet Sweeney when the fresh-faced innocent Anthony Hope (played by Johnnie Rae) arrives in London, full of romantic idealism about the capital of the Empire and its gold-paved streets, ditty bag over his shoulder. And yet, all too soon, poor old Johnnie Rae - sorry, poor old Anthony Hope – is accosted by a warty, scruffily dressed woman of the streets (Lila Newby) who promises him eternal friendship/love in return for money and shelter. Sweeney scares the beggar-woman off, little knowing himself who she really is, and in the subsequent conversation provides a cynical foil to young Anthony’snaivety (I won’t spell that last word the posh French way, ‘cos I don’t know how to do accents on the keyboard).
Our director, the redoubtable Miss Worthington, has provided an interesting updating to the original musical. We are first aware of this when waif-like Tobias Ragg (Elena Bleakley) melts the audience’s hearts as the little ‘lost boy’ but is dressed in jeans. Then appear policemen in modern dress, and citizens in 1970s clothes. Very realistic too. One lady was with child, and another had had one, and carried it in a sling. Later in the show, we saw the citizens gossiping about the gory murders and disappearances they were vaguely aware of - the young mother puffing away on her Players No 6 whilst she spoke to her pregnant friend. Very 1970s. The only double acts we had were Mike and Bernie Winters, or Morecambe and Wise. Health n’ Safety hadn’t been invented. It took me right back to the days of not wearing seatbelts and witch’s-hat rides on tarmacadamed park playgrounds. You might be forgiven for thinking ‘Wow. Call the Midwife’s gone very dark all of a sudden. And where’s Sister Monica Joan?’. I loved it. It took me right back to getting on board with The Double Deckers, flares and Afghan coats on Carnaby Street and ‘Treets’, melting in your mouth, not in your hand.
Judge Turpin (Finlay Law) clad in his smart suit and sporting some amazing Seventies’ sideboards talked in a guttural Glaswegian that put me visually and aurally in mind of Glasgow shop-steward Jimmy Reid railing against Ted Heath’s government (do feel free to look up these arcane references). But unlike the dockers’ champion, Judge Turpin is a monstrous capitalist and all-round exploiter of, well, practically everyone. And every villain needs a side-kick. Enter the oleaginous Beadle Bamford, played by Jacob Beverley, slithering around the stage in fawn mac and speaking in low voice of menace. Jacob seems to have cornered the market in creepy fawning characters (and why not? Someone’s got to do it). Don’t worry – they get what’s coming to them via Sweeney’s rough justice, though Turpin has a lucky escape first time round when, Hamlet-like, Sweeney seems to have a pang of conscience when he has the lawman in the chair to be shaved – perhaps being suckered into tenderness by the judge’s reminiscences of the songs of his youth.
Sondheim’s songs can be challenging to sing, and not always easy for an audience to remember. Some you admire rather than actually like. I think, however, that the repetition of those numbers will mean that the cast are now big Sondheim fans because the songs grow on you, always the sign of a sophisticated type of aesthetic. Yet there are good earworms and beautiful melodies, not the least of which is ‘Green Finch and Linnet Bird’ in which the beautiful flaxen-haired Johanna (Sammy Coffey) leans out of the window to hear the notes of the birds sold by our cheerful cock-er-nee costermonger, the Birdman of – perhaps Aldwych - rather than Alcatraz, played by Samuel Brown. Young Anthony spots the fair maiden, and a love affair begins. He rescues his amour from the lunatic asylum later on – a benighted institution where the so-called ‘mad’ inmates are exploited for their locks by wigmakers who are paying the evil jailer, Matron Fogg, menacingly played by Jen Romer in full Nurse-Ratched rig-out, in keeping with the 1970s vibe. Act Two opens with a touching, plaintive ballad ‘Johanna’ sung by Anthony, calling her name as he seeks her. I tried so hard not to think about Kool & The Gang.
Let me congratulate Henry C on his marvellous tour de force as the bitter barber, and shower accolades on Elena B making her debut in senior school as a principal, breaking hearts as the helpful spirited boy. Lila for playing so convincingly the addle-pated beggar woman who is Sweeney’s estranged daughter. And, indeed, full marks to the other principals I mentioned for their stage-presence and voices with this challenging score. But ‘let us now praise famous (wo)men’. You need a great actress to play alongside Henry, and did we not indeed get one in the shape of Ella Pettit as Mrs Lovett, purveyor of pies to the hungry of London? Endlessly mobile, and full of East End chutzpah and spirit, Ella made the stage her own - skirt-twirling and apron-hugging and she leapt athletically on to tables and counters – coquettishly trying to ensnare grumpy Sweeney Todd to be husband Number Two, mothering orphaned Tobias, and keeping the customers in check as they clamour for their new-recipe pies. Her fabulous diction, verve and comic timing were a great treat. No less so for Penny Dunkow; a revelation in a lime-green tailored suit with a fabulous Philip-of-Spain beard and unruly mop of hair that completely fooled me. I had to look up who it was in the programme (please note the spelling of that last word, Year 9. Once a teacher…). Penny showed excellent stage presence too, and fully inhabited the eccentric part (I enjoyed ‘Signior Pirelli’s’ reversion from cod-Italian to his native London tongue. Both girls brought impressive comic relief to the grim tale.
Nothing happens without the help of a chorus of coppers, ‘lunatics’, reporters, shopkeepers, café-goers, local women, men and children to populate these London streets and to belt out those difficult ensemble numbers. Well done to the whole company for their commitment, and acting which lends so much dramatic ‘truth’ to the whole enterprise.
What a difficult score. My wife was puzzled. Is there an orchestra, she asked me? Where is it? It sounds too good. Is it a soundtrack? They were hidden in the pit, but their sound was far from concealed. What an excellent job this was by such talented musicians under the baton of Mr Rugman (well done to him and his team). Speaking of someone hidden, musical director, Mr Hodgkinson spent the entire performance in the audience stalls behind a screen (like a shy bride in some Eastern cultures) but, of course, his expert keyboard accompaniment spoke for itself, as did the result of his expertise in training up the singers to such glorious effect. Mr Brown as assistant musical director assisted Mr Rugman by playing in the orchestra, following many hours working with the ensemble on the highly complex score. Miss Maling provided invaluable choreographic assistance to Miss Worthington, and with her energy and enthusiasm, will have been a fantastic asset. Miss Worthington, we need hardly add, but should, of course, is the linchpin of the whole thing quietly, diligently and tirelessly bringing the cavalcade to brilliant life. All credit to her and all the creative team who supported her.
But that, of course, is only to sketch the surface of the panoply of people whose assistance with make-up, costume, lighting, props, set design and sound make up this production. Not to mention the volunteers who organise tickets and usher us in, and the friends of the school who raise money in the raffle. To all of them, thanks.
Sweeney Todd, ungratefully, murders Mrs Lovett, but then meets his own end in the grisly fashion he inflicted death upon others. Anthony and Johanna survive to tell the tale, as does Tobias, and it seems right that the innocent should prosper and the guilty pay the penalty. If only life were that simple. The whole cast were rightly applauded to the rafters for their efforts at handling this tricky musical, and it is safe to say that yet again AKS has come up trumps. It has put me off having my neck-beard trimmed at the Turkish barbers though, much as I enjoy the hot towels.