At the very beginning of the film, Comrade Burton wisely chose a CG to show the whole process of the devil barber killing people, letting blood, mincing meat and making pie. I have to mention the music composed by Stephen Sondheim. The bright blood color on the screen really makes people sit on pins and needles in the cinema. It’s not that the picture itself is terrible, but that Mr. Sondheim’s devilish dissonance arouses instinctive disgust in people’s psychology. Mixed with the dark, weird and solemn artistic conception of the music itself, it’s almost like Evil spirits generally linger. You will try your best to avoid those disturbing notes, but unknowingly they have taken over your mind. So the shadow of the music that follows him echoes in the audience's mind from beginning to end, from Depp's manic "No Place Like London" to Carter's "Poor Thing" full of false pity, from the revenge symphony "Pretty Women" to The bloody and sad "Final Scene", even if there are a few bright and passionate highlights like "Johanna" in the middle, was sung into a tragic song by Anthony, the sailor who lost his lover, in the dark alley. Never before has a musical been so beautifully brought to life on screen. There has never been a movie soundtrack that not only evokes the direct feeling brought by the melody, but also arouses the audience's dual response to the music, plot and pictures in terms of the deeper artistic conception of the music. That kind of weird disharmony, with a bit of cruel humor, perfectly mixes love and indifference, murder and loyalty, despair and hope, combined with the absurd and cruel world view of the film itself, making every shot become a paragraph. Independent symphonic poem. The end of the film feels like the song has ended, and the integrity of Sondheim's music is also impressive. Keep using the word "cruel" instead of "cruel". Because the flamboyant Avenger played by Depp isn't entirely ruthless. He would also be merciless when facing a man who brought his wife and daughter to get a haircut, and would even turn his back on the happy little family with a bit of self-deprecation. On the other hand, he is also "forbearing" all the time: enduring his desire for revenge and the remaining warmth in his heart, he forcefully turns himself into a beast with its throat cut. Every time he kills someone, he chants that cursed name, his daughter's name "Joanna", and that kind of crazy tenderness makes people shudder. The most terrifying thing is not the irrational beast driven by love, but a sober and tolerant murderer like Sweeney. So we watched Sweeney, the Avenger who was burdened with deep sins and longed for good, sometimes hysterical, sometimes gloomy and indifferent, trying to persuade Timothy Spall (yes, the one who played the mouse in Harry Potter) to There was even a bit of Captain Jack's flamboyant expression when he was a court official. But all this is just for revenge, not only revenge against the bad judge (Professor Snape = =), but even setting the arrogant target on "all the men on the street." This should be a compromise point that Burton found for his vivid depiction of the murderous legend, and it must be admitted that it inevitably falls into the cliché. However, if there is no deepening and repeated singing of this suppressed anger, we will not be able to appreciate the music of "pretty woman" singing softly with the enemy, becoming violent little by little, Sweeney, who is a little bit dominated by crazy justice, his extremely elegant knife-raising movements contain both extreme joy and extreme sadness at the same time. When he finally swung his sword and blood spurted out, I believe everyone let out a sigh of relief: Look, this man has paid so much for this moment, and now he can finally be at peace. In the last scene, Sweeney died holding her accidentally killed lover. His blood was flowing on her closed eyes and along her scarred lips to the ground. I almost believed that she was about to open her eyes, angel. Smiling like this and said to him: Dear, thank you for everything you have done for me. Then say, I forgive you. ——I admit that I really hope and hope to give this cold man a redemption.

As for the pale Mrs. Lavitt, a female executioner who always seemed philistine, vulgar, cunning, and cold-blooded, her female nature was always exposed by her passionate love and inadvertent warmth. Although in the accompaniment of "A Litt Le Priest", Helena Bonham Carter, the female version of Depp, and the male Depp, like two empty vampires, looked at the crowd through the glass window, while nonchalantly discussing who to choose. It was a serious question about mincemeat, but they soon sang songs and danced with kitchen knives and rolling pins in hand, almost making people believe that this cold-blooded man and woman were about to become a couple. However, no matter how hard she tried, all she could see in front of him was a pitiful silhouette blurred in the razor reflection, or a distorted figure reflected in the broken mirror. She was not the blond image that was always vivid in his memories. She wore a black and gray dress, she wore very dull red trim, and even her hair was a dirty dark red. The poor woman said in a trembling voice: "I am also your friend, Mr. Todd." She touched his hair humbly and greedily with her lips, and held him in her arms on the grass with her slightly old and plump arms. It was a fantastic dream, but it could not escape the fate of being pushed into the oven and turned into ashes.

She begged in the underground workshop filled with corpses and sang "I didn't lie" loudly. Her voice was so thin and weak, trying in vain to cover up his angry accusations. Her tired eyes were telling him: I just love you so much. And he didn't want to notice. In front of him, she was always a pale and somewhat shameful figure, always looking inferior, yet so unhateable. After the film ended, I listened to her first song "The Worst Pie in London", which started with the playful "Ah, A CUSTOMER!!", and I felt that she would rather have been the dirty woman making terrible pies all her life. He died in silence in a cockroach-infested shop.