Rooster Revue #26 • The Horror!

Where Musical Movie Adaptations Often Fail, and Where They Succeed

10.31.22

Happy Halloween! In today’s issue, Eric Matthew Richardson explores the horrors of movie musical adaptations by comparing two Sondheim musicals, Into The Woods and Sweeney Todd, with their movie counterparts.

10.28 | Spike Lee’s Upcoming Viagra Musical is Called Rise, Early 2023 Production Start Being Eyed [World of Reel]

10.28 | Jeff Goldblum in Final Talks to Join Wicked Movies as the Wizard [Variety]

Here’s a look at the movie musicals coming out this year:

Matilda - December 25 on Netflix [Trailer]

Directed by Matthew Warchus

Written by Dennis Kelly

Songs by Tim Minchin

Disenchanted - November 24, 2022 on Disney+ [Trailer]

Directed by Adam Shankman

Written by Brigitte Hales

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz

Spirited - November 11, 2022 in Theaters, November 18, 2022 on Apple TV+ [Teaser]

Written & Directed by John Morris & Sean Anders

Songs by Pasek & Paul

Pinocchio - December 9, 2022 on Netflix [Trailer]

Directed by Guillermo Del Toro

Written by Patrick McHale & Guillermo Del Toro

Music by Alexandre Desplat

Lyrics by Roeban Katz

by Eric Matthew Richardson

Where Musical Movie Adaptations Often Fail, and Where They Succeed

We’ve all felt it. The dread. The helplessness. The feeling that no matter what happens, it’s just not going to turn out well. All because of one simple idea: they’re turning your favorite musical into a movie.

But why is that? Of course, there’s been some great stage-to-screen adaptations in the past. Hell, most of our first experiences with musicals are through film. And yet, in recent years, this prospect has started to feel dead on arrival; something that barely lives up to the productions we all have come to cherish. Some blame the casting. Some blame the intentions. But what I believe is the root cause of these flops is something that might sound like heresy to many readers…

It’s fear.

Fear of upsetting the fans. Fear of taking too great a risk or toppling the status quo. A rigid adherence to a stage production frequently creates a stale and static experience for the viewer. Film is primarily a visual medium. It can play with time and space in ways that stage productions cannot. Too often, these orthodox musical films suffer because they forget to be just that: films.

And what better way to study this theory than through the man himself? Stephen Sondheim’s musicals have been the victim of many a botched screen adaptation, but I believe they also deserve a second look from those oft-jaded fans. Two recent films, Sweeney Todd and Into the Woods offer us a great insight into how to adapt a stage musical for the screen, as well as what cardinal sins to avoid.

Let’s cut to the chase: I do not like the Into the Woods film. While it’s by no means a complete strikeout, it surely wasn’t the easy home run that it could have been. If we’re going by sheer numbers, Into the Woods is probably the most popular Sondheim stage show out there, or at the very least, the most recognizable. Many a Sondheim fan was born out of an amateurish performance of Cinderella’s Prince (myself included). It had the fans. It had the talent. It even had Disney fronting the money. So why, exactly, does this film feel so hollow? Because unlike Little Red, they were too scared to stray from the path.

For example, take a look at this clip from the film version of “It Takes Two”:

On the surface, there’s nothing particularly wrong with this scene. We have two serviceable performances, some quality production design, and great orchestrations. In fact, there’s nothing on screen here that couldn’t be found in a decent stage production of the number. But that’s exactly why this scene suffers, and is a frequent failing of the film as a whole. There’s nothing particularly filmic about this number. No clever use of staging or scenery. No dynamic camera movements. It’s a classic case of what I like to call “Standing and Singing at Each Other” (I’m not great with naming things). While there’s nothing terrible happening on the screen, the lack of dialog with the camera saps the scene of any dynamism. To be frank, it’s boring.

Now let’s compare this to one of the better numbers from the film: “Agony”

While this is certainly one of the more openly entertaining numbers of the show, there’s still a lot more happening on screen here than in the rest of the film. Already, the cinematic staging of the number stands out. We see the two princes interacting with the waterfall in a dramatic manner: splashing each other, hopping from rock to rock, climbing its vines, and ultimately prostrating themselves within the stream. Their actions start off subtle, and we are treated to close-ups of their disdainful reactions. As their argument grows, so do the camera movements, culminating in a sweeping hero shot of them atop the waterfall, glistening in the morning mist. What could have easily been another victim of “Standing and Singing at Each Other” becomes as clever and witty as the source material. As Sondheim always said, “content dictates form.”

What hurts the most is that there was once a chance to have a great adaptation, too. Much like Jodorowsky’s Dune or Kubrick’s Napoleon, Jim Henson Productions’ Into the Woods was taken from us before it ever had a chance to shine. From the scripts that have emerged throughout the multiple decades since, it was clear that it had no fears about altering the source material, dropping multiple numbers and including new ones by Sondheim himself. While this may sound like a cardinal sin to many, it’s often what is needed to turn a great night of theatre into a great cinematic experience.

But let’s turn to another Sondheim adaptation which I believe deserves its due diligence: Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

I’ll admit that going to bat for a film that was critically well-received isn’t exactly a difficult task. However, I find there’s plenty of detractors within the theatre community. Some find the vocal performances to be rather simplistic, though I posit that it creates a rather intimate and unsettling mood. Others bemoan the film’s omission of the show’s opening number. While I’m not going to defend that choice (though I agree with Burton and Sondheim’s general opinion that the plot needs to move), it’s not enough to throw the baby out with the bath water. There’s plenty of brilliant moments within Sweeney that are worthy of noting.

For instance, compare Woods’ “It Takes Two” with Burton’s take on “By the Sea”:

Already, we’re treated to some great cinematic treats. The sudden pop of color contrasting the desaturated look of London. The general apathy of Sweeney among the picaresque scenery. The frequent change of setting throughout the dreamlike seaside town. All leading to remarkable overhead camera inversion to reveal the dull, dreariness of reality. Notice that despite the lack of movement from the characters themselves, there’s still a general dynamism to the scene as a whole. Each new place is treated as its own little dollhouse, and Sweeney as the reluctant plaything. This is a picture-perfect example of how to take a rather static stage number and turn it into something worth watching.

And maybe that’s easy to do with a number that already exists as a dream. But what about the numbers that lack an opportunity for such feats? The ones that require intimacy and stillness? There’s still a way to heighten these moments in ways that don’t involve massive camera movements and expensive set design.

Here’s that exact moment played out in Sweeney:

Notice the reverence of this moment. There’s nothing particularly dynamic about the scene, but still the camera is involved in an intricate dance between Sweeney and his blade. There’s an air of sexuality to it, as if we shouldn’t be intruding on this reunion. And yet there’s brief moments where the camera pulls away, as if Sweeney has grown to fill the emptiness of the room. We prefer to linger there, far away from the singular-minded madman. Instead, Burton pushes us closer and closer, catching his eyes in the reflection of the blade. The camera is forcing us into the spaces we don’t want to go. There’s a conversation happening between the viewer and the subject.

Adapting an existing stage musical into a film is already a gargantuan task. But making a great one is that much harder. Sondheim knew the challenges involved in such a transfer, and wasn’t afraid to alter his own work in order to better fit this new medium. For future musical directors to succeed, they’ll need to engage in the careful balancing act between appeasing the rabid fan base and crafting a genuinely engaging film. For their sake, I hope they focus on the latter.