The Exchange really is an odd little
theatre. Set inside the old cotton exchange building, the theatre itself is a
self-contained, transparent box of modernity set in the round. Yet this proved
the perfect setting for James Brining’s production of Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd, which transports the
narrative from Victorian London to a Thatcherite mental asylum complete with
stark, grimy set design.
Sweeney
Todd is an incredibly psychological piece of
theatre, something this setting only enhances.
Here every character suffers from psychosis: David Birrell’s deranged
and obsessed Sweeney; Gillian Bevan’s hilariously crazed Mrs Lovett; Barbara
Drennan’s bedraggled and pathetic Beggar Woman whose matted white hair sprouts
grimly from her balding head; Don Gallagher’s self-flagellating Judge Turpin
struggling to contain his paedophilic desires; and Ben Stott’s tragic Tobias descending from innocence to
insane murderer. Even Niamh Perry’s traumatised
Joanna pulls a gun on her captor.
The psychotic tone of the piece surely
reflects the grotesque horror and twisted humour at play, only emphasized by
the intense sexuality on display. If
Turpin’s Mea Culpa wasn’t deliciously
disturbing enough, Little Priest sees
Todd and Lovett becoming increasingly aroused as they delight in the prospect
of their morbid business arrangement, the song acting as foreplay to both the
murderous plot and their sexual relationship.
As such, Brining’s production takes Sweeney
to the darkest depths of the human mind.
Initially, the asylum feel is established
during pre-show: a man stares blankly at a television screen, a woman shuffles
slowly around the stage, another rocks back and forth on the floor and, in a
subtle link to Joanna, a man creates origami birds accompanied by The Carpenters' Close To You. Yet disappointingly this notion is used only to
enhance the psychotic themes rather than as a narrative framework and therefore
feels underused.
The Exchange theatre certainly brings its
own set of constraints, but there is something thrillingly eerie about watching
the bloody bodies float across the stage rather than through a trapdoor. Yet whilst the reduced orchestration loses
none of its impact, musical director George Dyer struggles to keep control of
both the players and the singers. His
frantic conducting is particularly distracting on the screens dotted around the
theatre, which some of the singers appear to ignore.
The worst offender here is Birrell whose
use of rubato is a little indulgent (and clearly frustrating for Dyer!). That
said, his booming vocals and incessant staring are suitably frightening – in
his Epiphany especially. Elsewhere, the singing is equally as
characterful and with excellent diction from both the ensemble and the
leads. Bevan plays Lovett with a little
more subtlety than usual, though her comic timing is exceptional. Michael Peavoy’s Anthony is appropriately
more horny youth than romantic lover, with a beautiful tenor voice. However, Perry’s Joanna (as is so often the
case) has a nasal, shrill upper register – I long for the day I can hear Green Finch and Linnet Bird sung by a
sweet soprano rather than a smurf.
Brining’s thoroughly engaging production
may not be a perfect machine, but the dark psychological feel is well suited to
Sondheim’s musical thriller. Moreover,
this production can stand tall next to last year’s London production, proving
you don’t have to be in the West End to see an exceptional musical.
4/5
Watch: Sweeney Todd runs until the end of November.