The first forty-five minutes or so are slower than expected (there’s a lot of musty exposition to wade through and all is delivered via solemn arias, duets and trios). This, I thought, was for fans of Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, Stephen Sondheim and Dante Ferretti only (OK, so that’s a pretty big group of fans and they were being well-rewarded, but still). Then the blood starts to flow (and flow) and the mood grows darker, more macabre, more wickedly comic, and the narrative’s original melodramatic leanings give way to something best labled Jacobean revenge tragedy. I’m a fan of Hal Prince’s 1979 staging–which can be found on VHS and DVD here and there–with its Brechtian flourishes and its larger than life Grand Guignol gestures; but Burton strives for something more intimate, more interior, less stagy. Poetic justice has no room in Burton’s version of Sondheim’s musical and, therefore, sweet sailor Anthony Hope and Judge Turpin’s “pretty little ward” Johanna are somewhat minimized in order to focus more specifically on Sweeney Todd’s obsessive desire to avenge the destruction of his family. The film has its share of flaws, but I think it may be one of Burton’s greatest achievements. The stunningly beautiful, stunningly grotesque, stunningly bloody final tableau may be Burton’s most compassionately horrific image ever committed to celluloid.