Page 56
Spoilers May Be Below!
Page 56
Spoilers May Be Below!
More video interviews HERE
February 12, 2008
A link to a newly discovered interview and new caps HERE
From The Times South Africa
Feb 10 2008 2:24PM
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In sharp focus
Published:Feb 10, 2008
BLADES OF GORY: Johnny Depp is a cut above the restTim Burton talks to Adam Begley about his new film — a musical about blades and blood-letting
Everyone who sees Johnny Depp wielding his lethal cut-throat razors in Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street will connect this dazzling performance with his 1990 hit Edward Scissorhands, also directed by Tim Burton. At a press conference before the Sweeney Todd premiere in London, Burton discussed the link between the two films.
“The sharp instrument angle was not lost on us,” says Burton. “But Scissorhands was more optimistic. He was gentle and kind, you know. T he Sweeney character is a darker, more interiorised person, which I love to explore.
“To watch Johnny do both of those characters is really amazing ,” Burton says. “I love the inner, brooding quality of Sweeney’s character but for Johnny to combine that with singing is amazing . You know Johnny, he tries anything. He’s not a singer, but he was ready to try one of the hardest musicals ever to do. I love that he just does it.
“Johnny never stops the filming to sit around and analyse everything. He gets into the spirit of just doing it and it keeps the process going, keeps it vital ,” he says.
There’s been great debate about how violent and bloody this film is. A high age restriction will exclude the kids who love Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow in The Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy.
“A film like this is always a risk,” says Burton. “I first saw the show in London back when I was still a student. I didn’t know anything about the music and these two ladies were sitting in front of me and they were kind of chatting throughout the show. Then a killing came up and the blood started spurting across the stage. They paused for a minute, then one leaned over and said, ‘Was that really necessary?’
“But in fact it was necessary. I’ve seen other productions of it where they’ve tried to be a bit more politically correct and skimp on the violence and it really lost something.
“ It is over-the-top but that makes it more of an emotional release. It doesn’t fit neatly into either a musical or a slasher movie category. It’s kind of its own category,” he says, and with a best Oscar nomination for Depp, plus two other nominations, this could be the year Depp and Burton get the recognition they deserve.
Found by Emma at FilmInk
RAZOR’S EDGEWith a host of bizarre and perfectly played and unforgettable screen characters to his name, Oscar nominee Johnny Depp takes on another new challenge by singing up a storm with Tim Burton’s SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET. BY PHILIP BERK
Despite picking up an Oscar nomination (his third after Pirates Of The Caribbean and Finding Neverland) for his stunning work in Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street, Johnny Depp is one of the least confident actors that you’ll ever meet. Despite his cooler than thou exterior, he’s usually a bundle of nerves in interviews. You’d never know it from watching his strong, commanding performance as Sweeney Todd, a cutter of hair in 1800s London who turns into a cutter of throats as he seeks vengeance against the corrupt judge who ruined his life. So how confident was he that he could pull off not just singing in a movie but attacking the operatic score from the play’s creator Stephen Sondheim? “More than Sondheim, I didn’t want to let Tim down,” Depp replies. “I was afraid that I’d disappoint him. The process was strange, even though my background is music – I started as a guitar player – but the idea of standing in front of a microphone scared me to death.”
So where did he begin? “I didn’t go to a vocal coach – standing in front of a piano and doing scales seemed counter productive. So I went into a recording studio with a friend of mine and started to record the pieces to see if I could sing. I thought it would be better for me to find the character through the process of singing the part as opposed to trying to be a singer.”
Depp also dipped into some original cast recordings. “Oh yeah,” Depp enthuses. “The initial thing that I listened to which Tim gave me years ago was the Angela Lansbury-Len Cariou recording; so obviously I listened to that quite a bit. I also saw the Patti Lupone-Michael Cerveris production on stage in New York, but the most important thing that I was able to do aside from obviously familiarising myself with the material was listening to these performances on tapes. At the time – it was last November – I was shooting the third Pirates film in Palmdale, which is a two hour drive from Los Angeles. Driving to and from the set, I’d put those Sweeney discs in and listen. And oh yes, I had another version where there was just the music and maybe the melodic line played by a piano or something. I would listen, and I would sing embarrassingly in the car for two hours to work, and for two hours going home. And it was at that moment that I called Tim and told him, ‘I think we’re gonna be all right.’ And that was when I went into the studio with a friend. That was the first time I’d ever belted out a song from start to finish.”
Trust Johnny to tell the truth. Other actors would give cursory recognition to having been “inspired” by other Sweeneys. But not Johnny; he’s always truthful and self deprecatory.
Tim Burton is obviously a director that he trusts after their various collaborations. That trust even extends out to the level that he doesn’t watch the rushes. “With Tim, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do,” Depp explains. “I trust him implicitly. It’s more than the bond between an actor and a director. It’s a very strong link. There are things that I have done for Tim that I wouldn’t do for myself. I would never have gone in and recorded vocals. I would never have done that in my life had Tim not asked me to do it.”
Found by Emma from Straits Times
30 January 2008
The Straits TimesLife! - Life Movies
Unusual suspects
Tan Shzr Ee, IN LONDON
A dark plot? Check. Blood? Check. Weird costumes? Check. Spaced-out misfits? Check, check, check. When actor Johnny Depp and director Tim Burton team up, you can always expect them to take the road less travelled
IN a parallel universe, long-time friends and colleagues Johnny Depp, 45, and Tim Burton, 51, might be an old, married couple.
You don't hear this outright from the famous pair, of course. But parked in low sofas over an interview at London's Claridges' Hotel, the duo trade intimacies like fidgety life-partners breaking out from slacker humour into private jokes and long-standing pet peeves.
They are here to promote their much-awaited film collaboration, Sweeney Todd, based on Stephen Sondheim's legendary score.
Winding down after a marathon of press conferences, each swirls an expensive burgundy in hand, taking in the second last interview of the day.
'Don't mind us while we drink.'
'Would you like some of this?'
'No, she doesn't.'
'Yes, she does.'
'Look - she's working.'
'And so are we. She wants some; come on.'
'No, she doesn't.'
And so on.
Depp - more bohemian than gorgeous - makes a conscious effort to sit up straight and listen to questions. Burton remains slouched, making a horrible noise like a small car accident which turns out to be the blowing of his nose.
Depp grimaces.
'Sorry,' Burton says with a shrug. 'This is all going to come out wrong on your tape.'
It is a surreal scene.
On your left, in jeans, scarf, leather cowboy hat and grubby boots, sits one of the world's most sought-after actors. Concentrating in rapt attention, he stares hard at you through incongruous and scholarly horn-rimmed glasses.
On your right, scruffy black shirt tucked out over even scruffier trousers, the industry's master of quirky animation reclines in a chair. Bleary-eyed and hair a mess, he slouches contentedly on the side, listening absently to the twitter.
Not your usual gory movie
'IT'S a dream of revenge, there's this compulsion, obsession. That's the only thing that drives Sweeney and keeps him alive,' says Depp of his screen character.
'It sounds sleazy, the way you put it,' Burton rejoins.
But sleazy would be the last word to describe the idiosyncratic and stylised violence in this semi-fictionalised tale of an English barber seeking to avenge the demise of his wife, Lucy, brought on by a corrupt judge (Alan Rickman).
The title character embarks on a slasher spree, killing all in his way on this warped quest and passing on his victims to his equally-deranged landlady (Helena Bonham Carter) to make human meat pies.
'There's blood all over the floor - crawling, curdling,' says Depp.
But 'it wasn't meant to be realistic; it's hyper-real; very, very red', Burton explains.
'The blood's an important symbol in a tragedy. It's also an emotional release.'
Depp continues: 'In the last scene, when Sweeney's own blood drips onto Lucy's face, it's as if she is crying tears of blood. The blood's thick and gooey, it's larger than life and not your usual gory movie.'
Such imagery has come to be a signature touch of Burton and Depp's combined styles, albeit doused with a cartoony twist.
The same black-meets-vermillion palette of an earlier joint venture, mock-gothic horror flick Sleepy Hollow (1999, see facing page), has been repeated here.
Spaced-out misfits, weird hair and fussy costumes which were the hallmark of the duo's first movie together, Edward Scissorhands (1990), have also returned.
Are eccentric fairy tale heroes the only roles Depp seems to be creating with Burton these days?
'What's 'normal' anyway?' Depp asks. 'I'm not sure a 'normal' person exists. Everyone's sort of slightly off in a way today.
'This film exists in a different era, an era when innocence was still a possibility.'
Wise words - almost poetic, but Burton reminds you that his 117 minutes of suspension of contemporary realism have only been made possible with the rise of CGI technology and carefully calibrated choreography.
'When Johnny walks across the room, he's not dead, he walks to a beat,' he says.
Depp fleshes the statement out: 'When he picks up a razor, making movements to go with the oozing of fake blood - even just standing up, there are punctuations of movement and action.'
All that attention to detail has paid off. Depp has been nominated for a Best Actor Oscar and the movie has two other nominations for Best Costume Design and Best Art Direction.
IT ALL makes sense when you realise that Sweeney Todd, after all, is still a West End musical originally scored by Sondheim, whose unforgettable tunes give pulse to the entire show.
Burton and Depp's version, however, is less West End than 'punk rock' - or so the duo have chosen to describe the movie.
Depp's Sweeney is an angry, anti-establishment strutter who wears his misfit status with stylised savagery. Against this showcase of glamorous and unadulterated intensity, comic relief is provided by Sweeney's fawning landlady, Mrs Lovett, and Judge Turpin's fancifully odious henchman, Beadle Bamford (Timothy Spall).
'Sweeney is oblivious to all these attentions from the other characters - that's where the humour lies,' Depp says.
Burton adds: 'He's just wrapped up in his own world of revenge when all these funny things are happening to him, or around him.'
All this might make Depp's job in the movie appear to be the easy one of looking generically misunderstood and broody - as would any successful Hollywood celebrity in reel and real life.
But herein lies the catch in Burton's - or rather, Sondheim's - musical: everybody sings, including first-timer Depp, a previously avowed hater of the musical genre.
'Singing - who'd have thought? I play in a garage band, but I would hardly call myself a singer,' he says with a shudder.
'I was scared to death while filming. I didn't know if I could even hit the notes.
'But the things I do for Tim - I would do anything for Tim.'
'Except ballet,' Burton interjects.
'Oh yes I would,' Depp retorts.
'Even ballet?'
'Even ballet.'
'Nah, you wouldn't.'
'C'mon man, I'd jump at the chance. Anything for you.'
'You're gonna regret saying this.'
The double act returns for another mindless sparring session. As you watch from the side, you can't help smiling at the fun the bickering duo are having with each other.
'Ballet, huh?'
'Yeah, ballet...'
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street opens in cinemas tomorrow.
From Sarah - the DVD Coverclick
From the Telegraph
Whistling up a doubleActors have always used doubles for dangerous stunts or nudity, and miming to songs is also pretty standard practice. But Johnny Depp has taken things to an entirely new level for his role in his film, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
I'm amused to hear that, being unable to whistle, the 44-year-old actor was forced to employ a whistling double for a scene in which Sweeney Todd, played by Depp, is shaving his nemesis, Judge Turpin, played by Alan Rickman.
"Although he has a lovely singing voice, Johnny can't whistle to save his life," I'm told. "One of the sound technicians volunteered to record the tune for the shaving scene and Johnny spent hours in his trailer practising for the mime."
A fascinating article about all the hand-made reed chairs in "Sweeney Todd" from the Telegraph
Willow harvest on the Somerset LevelsLast Updated: 12:01am GMT 26/01/2008
Page 1 of 2The willow harvest on the Somerset Levels is an ancient tradition that goes from strength to strength, writes Sophie Campbell - just ask Johnny Depp.
Have your say Read comments
# Sophie Campbell's previous heritage articleIn a rare burst of sunshine, after days of January rain, two men are perched on a compact yellow machine as it makes its way busily up and down a field of Somerset clay, slicing down row after row of slender withies and bundling them with twine. All around them is a waterscape: flooded moors stretch off to the south-east, the fields are edged with water-filled ditches known as rhynes ("reens"), and what dry land there is oozes brown water like a wet sponge.
This is the willow harvest on the Somerset Levels. The withies, in hazy brown or pinkish lines according to species, have dropped their leaves with the first frosts and must be cut before the spring. There is an economic imperative, too: Morrisons supermarkets are using willow-hurdle panels as signage in its bakery sections this year and PH Coate & Son, willow producers on the Levels for 189 years, is working flat out to supply them.
As a result, its stock of blackberry-picking baskets, cheese trays, egg holders, traditional nursing chairs, cradles, DVD-holders, shopping baskets and coffins are low, and the willow weavers, racing to catch up for the summer visitor season, are going through the fat bundles of boiled, stripped willow like a dose of salts.
You could easily drive straight past the Levels without noticing them. I did for years, driving down the M5 from Bristol and vaguely registering the rather dull tablelands south of the Mendips, with few hedges and many ruler-straight streams.
It's easier now: in the year 2000 a local artist called Serena de la Hey built a 40ft (12m) sculpture, The Willow Man, standing sentinel between exits 23 and 24 on the motorway near Bridgwater. He strides along the edge of a huge flood plain, once under the sea, through which the rivers Tone, Parrett and Axe meander incontinently before emptying into the Bristol Channel.
advertisementAs the sea level dropped over thousands of years, Neolithic man settled on islets - joined by causeways and duck-boarded trackways, some of which still exist under the peat - and on low ridges that splay out like fingers across the wet.
One island, to the east of the Levels, is now Glastonbury, with its fine mud pedigree. On one of the ridges sits the village of Stoke St Gregory, home to the Coate family's Willows & Wetlands Centre, as well as to de la Hay and a number of other artists and craftspeople using willow. All around are villages - North Curry, Lyng, Westonzoyland, Kingsbury Episcopi - with rich willow histories, a handful of producers and numerous basket and furniture makers.
Down on West Sedgemoor, as the harvester beetles along, Jonathan Coate, the 39-year-old great-great-great-grandson of the firm's founder, is surveying the floods: "We used to get this sort of thing every 15 years or so," he says. "Now it's every two or three. But back when it was full of willow that's what it would have looked like. In a way, it has gone back to how it was."
Since the days of the Romans, water on the Levels has been controlled. Monasteries at Glastonbury, Athelney, Muchelney and Wells owned most of the land in their time, using sluices and ditches. In the 1920s, steam pumps began to drain the land for grazing. The pumping stations still work, but are now controlled from Bristol.
Jonathan, a skilled furniture maker, lives in a house overlooking Sedgemoor. His garden is willow fenced, his thatch is fastened by willow spars and his small sons had willow cradles. He has provided props for operas and films - the latest being Sweeney Todd, for which he made 50 chairs - and learnt his craft from an 86-year-old furniture maker from Lyng. All his raw materials come from this moor and two others, Curry Moor and Hay Moor, to the north of the ridge.
His mother, Anne, is in charge of the history side of things, running the visitor centre, shop and a small café. "Before the wars, there were about 3,500 acres of willow down here," she explains, "plus 3,000 in the Norfolk fens and about the same amount up in the Trent-Severn area. They've all been drained. Somerset is the only area still producing willow commercially; there are about 150 acres left." She and her husband started the artists' charcoal business, which now accounts for 50 per cent of the willow crop and is exported worldwide.
In terms of tourism, this is low season; a good moment to go because you can see the harvest. After the planting of the "setts" - new willow shoots - in spring, the plants are left to grow a mind-boggling nine feet (2.7m) before the frosts. The rest of the processing is visible, though, carefully spaced out to provide year-round employment for 35 people on site and another 10 working from home, either weaving willow or packing charcoal into boxes.
John Pipe was born in 1936 in North Curry, where his parents had a few acres of withy beds, and has worked in willow since he was 15. "It was a thriving industry up until the late 1950s," he says, "but it collapsed when plastics arrived." The war years were good, in fact; First World War pilots sat in wicker aircraft seats, and by the Second World War baskets were needed for observation balloons, parachute drops (they could withstand hard landings) and carrier pigeons. Hospitals, laundries and mothers-to-be fuelled the demand for white wicker - cleaner and more hygienic - which was cut and placed in water for six months. Children took three weeks off in May to help strip the whitened willow.
John grades the withies by dropping them into a barrel and holding them against a measure. They are taped into half-bundles known as "wads", stuffed into open crates, submerged in boiling water for 10 hours and then stripped, steaming, by mechanised rollers, filling the yard with the pungent smell of hot tannin. Now a glowing buff colour, they are dried against wires outside, tied into bundles exactly 3ft 1in (about 94cm) in diameter ("Now there's a strange number," he says. "Like a baker's dozen.") and tied with a distinctive "rose knot" of willow, ready to be supplied to basket makers or made into charcoal sticks.
"The Levels are very unusual," says Anne Coate. "People farm little bits of land, here and there. They're very adaptable, they'll do a bit of ditch-digging or willow or peat." Similarly, the willow industry has adapted, moving from Post Office baskets to hanging baskets and from sheep hurdles to living willow sculptures in order to survive. So when you see Sweeney Todd in the cinema, forget Johnny Depp - check out the chairs.
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