She Who Must and I went to the cinema this week for the first time in ages. Well, our nearest one is a long, long way away and normally we can't be arsed making the trip for whatever tripe's being churned out. But we decided to make an exception for Sweeney Tod: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Probably not the best of things to put on your shop frontage I would have thought; likely to put the punters off a bit. Would you go get your shampoo and set from someone advertising themselves as a 'the Demon Barber of Fleet Street'?
No, you'd go to 'the Nicest Barber in the World - free cup of tea with every short back and sides'. Even then, I bet all the magazines will be well past their sell-by date. Free cups of tea will only get you so far you know.
I have to admit that I was a little apprehensive about hearing the Boy Depp get up and sing, especially after the opening number, but he grew on me - like a hairy fungus - over the course of the film. Of course, by the time we were heading home, neither I nor She Who Must Be Consulted On Most Things Musical could remember a single song from the thing. Not a great recommendation for a musical I suppose.
Over all we enjoyed it, especially all the blood (and there's buckets and buckets of it), Helena Bonham Carter looks suitably Burtonesque (like something straight out of Corpse Bride to be honest). Timothy Spall can't carry a tune in a bucket, and Alan Rickman does what Alan Rickman always does, only slightly more sleazy this time.
An no, this isn't just a pitiful excuse for a blog post. I have opinions you know! Lots of hairy opinions... They're just busy right now.