The Factory That Made Sweeney Todd

ChatGPT's perfect image for my post about my letter from Harold Prince.

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  The letter, window card and a maybe Stephen Sondheim signed cover in a place of distinction.

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  Eugene Lee's sketch for the Stephen Sondheim 1979 production of "Sweeney Todd..." from Albany Univ

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  This drape opened the show and is what I thought was a William Hogarth.

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  Playbill from the 2023 production.

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  The cast of the 2023 production.

Sweeney Todd was among my earliest theatre obsessions. The original two-record cast album was released in 1979, when I was twenty years old and an English literature major at Towson University. I remember locking myself in my bedroom, listening from beginning to end while following along with the lyrics and devouring the liner notes (remember those?!). When it was over, I just sat there in shock. The operatic scope of the score, the terrifying Greek chorus, the horrific irony of the story—it left an impression that has haunted me ever since.

I never did get to see the original Broadway production, but over the years I've more than made up for it by enjoying:

• November 1980 at the Kennedy Center (DC) with original cast members Angela Lansbury and George Hearn

• April 1982 at the Morris Mechanic (MD) with June Havoc—the real "Baby June" from Gypsy—and Ross Petty

• February 2002 at Center Stage Theatre (MD) with Nora Mae Lyng and Joseph Mahowald

• June 2002 at the Kennedy Center (DC) with Brian Stokes Mitchell and Christine Baranski

• April 2023 at the Lunt-Fontanne (NY) with Annaleigh Ashford and Josh Groban

• July 2025 at the Naples Players (FL) with Mary Anne McKerrow and Peter Caporal

  
  

Just a bit after the show opened, I was in a class on eighteenth century English literature (Alexander Pope, Henry Fielding and the such) and learned about the artwork of William Hogarth. I mistakenly believed that some of the art in the design and marketing of Sweeney was from Hogarth. I was wrong but the damage was done; the overconfidence that only a college sophomore can possess inspired me to think that Sweeney and this period of literature had significant overlap. I felt so inspired and enlightened that I wrote to Harold Prince—one of Broadway's most icon and celebrated directors—to share my epiphany with the excuse that I was writing a paper for my class on "Eighteenth Century Literary Elements in the Broadway Musical Sweeney Todd." Surely one of Broadway's greatest directors would be eager to hear what some kid from podunk Maryland thought he'd discovered about his masterpiece.

My letter to him is lost to time (handwritten on regular stationary in pretty crappy handwriting in 1983 before Microsoft Word was really an option) but it went something like this:

Dear Mr. Prince;

I saw Sweeney Todd and thoroughly enjoyed it but I am a college student currently studying 18th century English literature and am writing a paper about the show's use of 18th century English literature elements such as social satire, ridicule, extremity, or irony. Were they intentionally included in the show?

Thank you for your time.

Mike Stevens

You can imagine my shock, delight, and joy when I got his typed response on his letterhead.

Dear Mike Stevens:

Unfortunately, as I'm leaving town in two hours, this will be extremely brief.

I confess that in creating SWEENEY, Sondheim/Wheeler and I worked with quite different aims. That can be dangerous. In this case I think we got away with it. Steve's primary source was the "Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber..." written by Christopher Bond. So, I recommend that to you. It's not substantially concerned with things sociological. According to Steve, who saw a production of that version at Stratford East in London, it was predominantly Grand Guignol.

In order to direct it, I needed some frame of reference other than an exercise in a theatrical style. And so the designers, Eugene and Franne Lee, and I chose to emphasize the incursions of the industrial revolution on the souls, on the poetry within people. Deliberately, no one in the production of SWEENEY TODD ever sees the sun except filtered through the glass roof of the factory in which they work.

People have asked what they make in that factory and my reply, admittedly with some irony, is a musical called SWEENEY TODD. To that end, we purchased a derelict factory in Rhode Island, dismantled it and used it as the basis for the set that you saw.

In addition, we decided not to specify dates. The costumes are an invention covering a broad spectrum from the mid 19th century right up to the 20th. Again, deliberately there is no mention in the text of the industrial revolution and yet I believe it affected performances across the board.

I don't think that satire came into it nor, indeed, ridicule. The Judge and the Beadle certainly represent a social elite and the play certainly acknowledges the class system which, to some real extent, still exists in England. And, of course, Sweeney's tragedy is that he was a victim of the class system.

Finally, the piece is about rage -- revenge taken to the extreme. Every member of the company, with the exception of the Beedle and the Judge, experiences some rage, but in different degrees.

Thank you for writing.

Best,

Hal Prince

It didn't matter that he completely dismantled my premise. If anything, his response made the experience even more valuable. He taught me that Sweeney Todd has far more in common with nineteenth-century Romanticism—with its suspicion of industrialization and its concern for what modern society does to the human soul—than with the eighteenth-century satire I thought I had discovered. I only wish my paper had survived because I have a distinct recollection of trying to find quotes in his letter to support my thesis and to say "Yes! You hit the nail on the head! Such wisdom from a kid!" I'm pretty sure that I got a decent grade because of the quality of my primary sources but I may have cherrypicked his support just a bit.

But that isn't really the point.

Looking back, what stays with me isn't that Harold Prince answered my question. It's how he answered it. He could have ignored a letter from an unknown college student. He could have mailed a form response. Instead, on his own letterhead and while rushing out of town, he took the time to explain his artistic vision with generosity, clarity, and respect. Then: That letter has hung on my wall for decades. If there were ever a fire in the house, it would be one of the first things I'd grab. Not because it's valuable, but because it reminds me that great artists don't become great simply because of their talent. Sometimes they become great because they choose to encourage the next generation, even when that next generation is just an overconfident kid from Maryland asking questions about Sweeney Todd.

If I didn't love Harold Prince for the quality of his creations—and I certainly do—I will always appreciate his intellect and professionalism towards a kid who was just beginning to stretch his attempts at intellect and to grow his understanding of art. His generosity in his response was not expected or is perhaps not even normal by today's social standards. This letter will always be on my wall and will be one of the things that I would grab in the case of a fire. It cemented my lifelong appreciation not only for Sweeney Todd, but for the extraordinary artists who devote themselves to creating theatre.