As I’m home for Christmas, I thought nothing would be more appropriate for the season than a gory bloodfest of a musical that celebrates cannibalism, violent vengeance and–wait, that’s not what Christmas is about? Oops. Well, I watched Sweeney Todd anyways. And I must tell you, it is AWESOME.

I’ve never seen the musical, and I purposely didn’t read any reviews so I wouldn’t get spoiled. And it was so worth it. Let me tell you, I walked out praising the great state of Kentucky for birthing such a beautiful and twisted specimen of humanity as Johnny Depp. AND, he sings! His “Pretty Women” duet with Alan Rickman ranks somewhere in the top 5 seminal moments of my life. Trust me, it’s amazing. And Helena Bonham Carter, no slacker herself in the singing department, is pitch-perfect as Mrs. Lovett: not too hausfrau, spellbindingly pragmatic and horrifying at the same time.

*Spoiler alert*

It was bloodier than I expected, and Tim Burton warns you it will be so in the opening credits, where glowing blood drips down from the barber’s chair, turning gears and opening doors until it joins the London filth in the sewers. The musical is driven by blood, and Burton doesn’t shy away from the gruesomeness of the story, the way he did in Nightmare Before Christmas by making it cute/creepy rather than actually creepy. Sweeney Todd is truly horrible in the way that each victim is killed (you can practically feel the resistance of the blade slicing through human tissue, as if you’re holding it yourself) and dropped into the cellar below. The deaths aren’t stylized, and you can even hear the neck break on each body as it hits the concrete. It’s morbidly delicious.

The film actually makes the audience complicit in the murders, just as the entire city of London is condemned for (a) creating an environment in which such horrors exist and a man can be so wronged that his grief can only be contained by the murder of strangers; (b) eating the resulting “meat” pies with such gusto (“God, That’s Good!”); and (c) loving every minute of it. Sweeney himself is addictive, dangerously quiet and beautiful in his twisted-ness, and you are drawn in as you want him to win. You want him to cut the Judge’s throat, you want him to get his revenge. If you pay attention, you can even see a masterful use of mise-en-scene windows and one broken mirror to show how these characters are unable to see themselves clearly, and instead direct their rage outwards. The main characters (the Judge, Sweeney, Mrs. Lovett) are unredeemable, and the “innocent” characters are one-dimensional and totally unreal (Antony) or damaged beyond repair (Joanna). Even the child, Toby, becomes a murderer at the end. And you as the watcher, the meta-observer, are just as guilty as the Londoners for actually ENJOYING this.

Because it is, in fact, enjoyable. The music is fabulous, the harmonies are like crack to me, the cinematography is deeply luminous and perfectly London, the costumes/make-up are on pitch (anybody else ever wonder what Helena Bonham Carter would look like WITHOUT her hair in a beautiful giant cloud around those perfect cheekbones?), and the staging doesn’t distract. The whole thing is seriously genius. Watch it. Wait anxiously for the DVD and watch it again. Look for the details, because when you do, you realize that Tim Burton has finally taken his brand of offbeat eye-candy and sculpted it into something deeply moral and compelling.