I was mixed about the revival when I saw it. I knew the score very well and loved the Hearn/Lansbury DVD growing up, and took a friend who had never seen/heard the show before at all. The score, book, story, all were as strong as ever (Jordan called it perfect, I don't know that I'd ever call anything perfect but this is on the shortlist if I ever decide to make that leap.)
The production itself, struck me as equal parts genius and incomprehensible. My first criticism was that I saw it with Patti LuPone in it and I wished I had seen Mrs. Lovett instead. There are acolytes of Mrs. LuPone and there are critics of her; I can only go by what I've seen and what I saw that night was a diva with a tuba in the middle of my beloved Sweeney Todd where Mrs. Lovett should be.
I loved Cerveris, don't remember much about my impressions of the other actors, and honestly had forgotten the conceit of it being "all in Toby's head." Why? Making Toby into Tommy Westphall is a strong and deliberate choice. It simply need not be made to enjoy the show, though, so it's the kind of choice that either seeks to draw something new out of the material (which I didn't see) or excuses material with which the production is uncomfortable presenting on its own merit (should never be the case with something as brilliant as Sweeney.) The actor/muso aspect worked occasionally (I liked the romantic idea of Johanna and Anthony doubling each other, but man did she look awkward as an ingenue with a cello; the less said about the tuba the better)
That said, I loved the design of the show. The lighting design, especially, took my breath away when the lights embedded in between the floorboards and walls illuminated. That they flooded the house red when the Judge was killed was an image I'll likely never forget. The coffins were a great touch. The (literal!) use of buckets of blood was chilling symbolism, not to mention the single most sickening and disturbing *sound* I've ever heard produced in a theater.
So I have mixed memories of the production. A missed opportunity, perhaps. Fleeting moments of brilliance elevating a frustrating evening into a worthwhile-but-hardly-definitive revival? My perspective on it shifts depending on which responses I had I recall most.
Words don't deserve that kind of malarkey. They're innocent, neutral, precise, standing for this, describing that, meaning the other, so if you look after them you can build bridges across incomprehension and chaos. But when they get their corners knocked off, they're no good anymore…I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little.