#also first time drawing sweeney and lovett!
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And what if none of their souls were saved?
They went to their maker impeccably shaved
My own little spooky challenge for the month!! Two of my favorite things: Sweeney Todd 07, and giving fictional characters government assigned fursonas!!
Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett - Dalmatian and Red fox
When I started this, I KNEW I wanted Todd to be an animal that was black and white. The monochromatic theme in Depp's version of Sweeney is SO Tim Burton that I wanted to preserve it. ALMOST settled on a skunk, but the thought of dalmatian spots mixing with blood spots was TOO cool of a concept in my eyes. TBH there WAS a time when I was tempted to make him a fox, because Sweeney TODD. Get it? But I held off because I didn't want to reuse specific animals TOO much. Speaking of which-
Mrs Lovett was always a fox from the first second. It fits her entire character (Seductive, trickster, lots of red, not to be trusted) FAR too well. The way her ears are posed are also supposed to bring a pair of horns to mind. Something DEEPLY wrong with this woman <3333
Lucy Barker/Miserable Woman - Afghan hound
PROBABLY a very uninspired and obvious choice, but...I wanted to draw ''hair ears'' lmao. Sweeney describes her blonde hair as one of the only things he remembers about her, so I wanted a dog breed that naturally had long blonde hair about it. I de-saturated her colors for her ''Miserable Woman'' look to make her look sadder and dirtier.
Anthony and Johanna - Mutt and Golden dalmatian
Yes I KNOW they look like Scamp and Angel okay. The inspiration was intentional but I might've accidentally strayed...TOO close to the source.
Johanna was one of two characters that took me on a bit of a trip. First she was an Afghan just like Lucy, then she was a doe, but I decided to have a little more fun with her. I made her a golden dalmatian, with the ''dalmatian'' coming from her father and the ''Golden'' coming from her mother. I imagined she's a bit like Oddball from 102 Dalmatians, where she's actually ''blank'' aside from the spots on her face and the two on her shoulder (she gets these ones from Todd) The black on her ear is also from Todd. I could have chosen the easy way out and made her look like her mother, but in my own silly way I thought it'd be fucked up if she looked like her father, considering the scene they share near the end of the movie.
Anthony is a sailor, so I gave him a very ''Sea dog'' mutt look. I just kind of...combined a bunch of traits and characteristics that I thought would work for him. You can see a LITTLE of Toughy from LATT in him, only because I liked the eye patch and all the scruff.
Tobias Ragg (aka Toby) - Bat
Toby was a fun one!! Oh, look how adorable he is!!! Since Toby has the final kill of the movie, and he kills Todd at that, I wanted him something small and cute but...potentially very dangerous. I settled on a bat, because they're very cute and they can carry rabies!!
And yes, that's his wig he's carrying. Didn't know how to portray him holding a pie, and I wasn't about to draw him drinking a bottle of gin, so I thought his little wig might be cute. He was honestly one of my favorites to draw <3
Adolfo Pirelli - Ring-tailed lemur
Pirelli is a ring-tailed lemur for two reasons. The first reason, is because since all the other animals are quadrupeds, having a bipedal animal felt more ''exotic'' to go with how he's seen as very special and from out of town. It makes him stick out naturally as someone of note.
The second reason he's a lemur.......is because he's played by Sacha Baron Cohen in 07.
Beadle Bamford and Judge Turpin - Hyena and Vulture
Yeah I'm just gonna come out and say it - Beadle Bamford is one of my fav characters in this movie so I made him a Hyena out of pure favoritism. Having Timothy Spall play him the same year he was Nathaniel in Enchanted was just for me, I think.
Originally, Turpin was a lion. Because...Bamford's a hyena...and they're the villains...sooooooo....yeah. And I WOULD have stuck with that, but....he's described as a vulture in No Place Like London. And while I knew my designs didn't have to adhere to that...I felt like ignoring it would have been stupid on my part. Glad I stuck with it, since...I gotta admit it works REALLY well for him. I've never drawn a vulture before, and it was fun to try something new anyway <3
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What is the muse that you write for the longest?
In what style did you start to write (First person, third person, *-style or novel-style?)
Is there anything you would have changed when you started writing now that you have more experience?
Happy Mundaymas - Accepting
What is the muse that you write for the longest?
Mrs. Nellie Lovett, of Sweeney Todd fame! She was the second character I ever picked up, the first canon character I ever played, and a muse I carried for something like 10 years? That's non-continuous, of course, there were gaps here and there, but I was generally playing her with someone, even if it was on discord or a private server. I brought her through so many format changes, from YouTube comments to Rolepages to IMs/Skype/Google Chat/Discord to a multimuse Tumblr Blog. I have talked about her before, both in this munday round and several before, but it's hard for me to really express how fond I am of her. I stopped playing her for two reasons - I became burned out on roleplay in general after a few bad bouts of out of character drama and life beating me down, and also I believed I had done everything I could with the character. She came with me through so many writing phases, had several dozen interpretations of her family, went through at least three momentous backstory changes, and stayed with me during one of the most tumultuous roleplay partnerships I'd ever had. I doubt I'll ever pick her up again, both because I've completed her story and because I've grown in ways such that I don't need her the same way, but I'll always remember the way those partnerships impacted me.
In what style did you start to write (First person, third person, *-style or novel-style?)
Jesus uhhhhh I don't know if we even did asterisks at first, I'm not going to lie to you all. We were bare bones basic bitches back in those Youtube Days. If we had actions (we usually didn't) it ended up just being a different sentence, not de-marked from dialogue at all. We did switch to asterisks soon after I started, though, it became too confusing otherwise.
Is there anything you would have changed when you started writing now that you have more experience?
This isn't quite so much about my writing and more about me as a person, but God I wish I had more self-esteem/boundaries at the time. I didn't have a ton of friends when I started roleplaying, I had fewer good ones (Most of them would grow up to be fine, but we were in middle school and middle-schoolers, myself included, are awful). The ones I did have often felt like charity on their part, since my teachers had a rule that you couldn't sit alone at lunch, so people got assigned/got "helper tasks" if they sat with the lonely kids as lunch. Trust me when I say it did not help bullying and frankly made it worse for the kids who did sit alone because we all knew that they got paid off to do it. The point is, I didn't know where I should draw the line if I felt uncomfortable, and I let myself get into a couple of really manipulative partnerships for the first four or five years. I did finally cut them out and even though I definitely did have my fair share of drama after that, my overall experience was so much better it was ridiculous.
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Sweeney Todd Drabble
"I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands."
Mrs. Lovett sat up with a yawn, wiping the drool from her chin with the back of wrist. She swallowed, reaching for the glass of water beside her bed as her mouth tasted dry. Pausing briefly as she recognized the familiar dull ache between her legs. The absent space beside her made the bed feel colder than ever as she pulled the covers up, holding them tight to her body.
Her body hurt to the touch to be honest but not from last night. Instead the drag and haul of each day, they made her limbs feel like lead, sinking into the mattress like deadweight, Mrs. Lovett was tempted to lay back down. Her head was heavy but she knew that she would fall back asleep in seconds if she did. She longed to succumb back into that gentle blackness where there was no pain. The despair was tight in her chest made it difficult to breathe. But when she was asleep, her lungs inflated with as much air as she needed, fatigue fading off. Soon she was as light as a cloud, floating in the sky. Carefree.
Shaking out those ridiculous ideals like cobwebs, she stood and picked up the dress from the floor. Pushing herself up by her hands and throwing herself into another day. With a strength and determination that could not be paralleled. Doing her best to forget that she’d waken up alone. Having been what caused her to shrink back like a frightened child in the first place.
Grunting, the petite baker climbed up to the parlor, her knees protesting each creaking step. Bringing the barber his breakfast on a long slate. She got the door open by pushing with her shoulder and sighing as it swung shut behind her. Placing the meal down carefully on the antique mahogany chest. Wiping her hands on her apron before looking up toward him as he faced the window. Staring outside. She waited with baited breath for any kind of response. There was none even after she’d stood there for minutes. Finally turning on her heel, letting the door slam shut behind her harder than necessary.
Every minute that followed felt like an hour, the whole day feeling like a month that Mrs. Lovett had spent on her feet. Wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm. That stung enough to make her gasp. Against the little bruises and cuts from utensils and manual labor that littered her skin. But she grew not to mind, the pain reminded her that she was alive. For a fleeting moment, air would fill her lungs and so she could exhale a shaking breath. If only to be brought back under into the endless drowning waters of despair. That suffocated her, she couldn’t breathe, always on the verge of falling to her knees and crying. In giving up. It was all becoming too much. Constantly sweating through the fabric of her dresses, her face sore from smiling all the time at impatient customers. Feet throbbing from hurrying up and down the hell soaked stairs. Digging her meat cleaver into the hard bones of strangers. Hauling the remains of their corpse over her shoulder to be burned in the devil’s maw.
The crimson-haired demoness was exhausted.
That night she collapsed into her bed, falling face first into the pillows. Not even bothering to change out of her dress as she fisted her hands in the sheet. Sleep washed over her, an enormous wave, drowning into the blue depths and arriving in a safe haven. She could almost taste the salty air on her tongue.
Jumping when she was jostled awake by a shake of her shoulder. Lurching herself upright, blinking away the blackness. Eyes adjusting to the dim lighting and meeting a dark obsidian stare. Void of emotion. Burning holes into her forehead. She frowned and swatted him away like a mosquito. Ignoring the longing that melted inside her like candlewax.
“I’m not in the mood.”
He paused, not moving away from her bedside. But didn’t try to touch her again either.
“Are you ailing?”
Mrs. Lovett snorted, of course, a woman would have to be suffering from the plague to not want sex.
“No. Just don’t feel like it.”
He didn’t push the issue further. Turning on his heel, leaving without another word. With a click of her bedroom door closing. Mrs. Lovett let out a breath that she didn’t realizing she had been holding in. Rolling over onto her side and finding it frustratingly difficult to fall back asleep. She reached out her hand toward the empty side of her bed and felt a single tear roll down her cheek.
It was just another morning, the sky gray as usual. The air was cold against her cheeks as she brought him his breakfast the next day as if nothing had happened the night before. Which also fell neatly into the routine as they never spoke about what took place when the sun went down and all was silent around them.
“Good morning, Mistah T. Did you sleep well?” She tried to sound unaffected. She waited only to just to be greeted by the birds chipping outside. Adverting her eyes to stare absently at the breakfast that now sat on his chest and would probably still be untouched when she came for it in the afternoon. She balled her tiny hands into fists. He’d moved to sit in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he fixed his attention solely to the wall opposite him.
She, Mrs. Lovett picked the tray back up with everything still on it. The freshly brewed tea, steam clouding from it. The piece of toast with a spread of marmalade and half of a sliced apple. Furiously raging toward the indifferent barber. Originally she was going to force it into his lap but seeing that even still standing right fucking next to him, he ignored her. She raised the slate above him. Then smashed it over his head with a thunderous clang. The sound echoed in for miles, the room shook as if there had been an earthquake. Everything was sent flying. The hot tea scalded his leg and the glass shattered. The slate split in half with the force of impact. The food haphazardly decorated the immaculate floor.
“FUCKING ANSWER WHEN SOMEBODY TALKS TO YOU!”
Sweeney was breathless with pain and shock. Silence was deafening. It was one, two, thirty seconds before he was standing and turning to Mrs. Lovett, shoving her to the floor without hardly having to use any force. Falling back onto her hands and feet. Eyes wide. The petite redhead looked up at him. Hissing when she felt the hot liquid burn her through the fabric of her skirts.
Growling, he pulled her back up by the front of her dress and corralled her into the wall. Her knees were weak so that if he wasn’t holding her, the grief-stricken widow would still be a puddle of mush on the floor. He brought his razor to her throat, so that she could feel the cold silver against her warm skin. The sharp edge barely digging into her skin.. Struggling to catch her breath already. Both of her gloved hands flat against the wall. She stared at him with doe eyes. Her rage having deflated from her like a popped balloon. She could feel her heart ache again, feel it throbbing loud between her ears only for him.
“If you were not so indispensable to my revenge, I would kill you where you stand, Mrs. Lovett.” He hissed every syllable of her name.
His breath hot against her cheek as the longest moment of her life passed.
Soon as he was there, he wasn’t. Pacing back to the window, standing astute. Brushing off the mess of the confrontation like dust from his sleeves. Meanwhile, Mrs. Lovett couldn’t move. Everything hurt, she clutched her chest and dry-heaved several times, nearly lurching forward. Tears fell from her eyes and she brought her knees up and began to sob into her lap. Letting out loud, heart-wrenching wails that were barely muffled from her curled up position.
Uncomfortable, Sweeney barked. “Leave me. And I expect you to come back to clean up this mess.” Truthfully, lacking the threatening tone he had intended. He rocked on the heels of his feet. Hoping she didn’t notice the slight hesitation.
Mrs. Lovett didn’t notice, instead she moved to stand up. Beginning to crawl like an injured animal. Soon using the wall to hoist herself onto her feet, head still bowed. Limping down the stairs like she had been beaten within an inch of her life. She did her best to wipe away her tearstained face with her sleeve before stepping back inside her home, the warmth surrounding her instantly.
When Toby peaked his head from the kitchen and asked what had happened, she shrugged. Then he asked about preparing for the dinner rush, Mrs. Lovett rasped with a weak smile. “I’m sorry, son. We’re not opening tonight. Nothing to fret over, just do whatever you’d fancy instead.” Toby wanted to protest but gave a respectful nod. Not bothering his Mother any further.
Stepping into her bedroom, Mrs. Lovett winced at the light that poured in from her window. Drawing the curtains shut and sitting onto her bed. Still trembling like mad, as she did her best to calm herself. Reaching for the cold mug of tea beside her but found her hands shook too much to take hold of it. Sitting unmoving for how long, the heartbroken baker didn’t know. But when she finally came to she was filled with grief. And found her spirit had shattered like glass, just the same as the glass against the floor above her. Moving from the edge of her bed, she went to her cupboard and pulled from it a bottle of painkillers. From when Albert had gout in his leg. They were probably out of date now but that didn’t matter for her purposes.
Moving to sit back on her bed she popped off the cap and poured the remaining capsules out onto her open hand. Every beat of her heart hurt and soon she realized that more tears had begun to fall, tasting the salt on her lips. Before she could change her mind brought the handful of pills to her mouth and swallowed them all down with a large gulp of tea. Gasping. Then taking another drink of the tangy beverage to wash away the bitter aftertaste of the pills.
Laying down onto her bed, the sheets were cool against her skin. The petite baker ignored that her skirt was still damp and she smelled heavy of sweat. Instead she was lulled to sleep, peacefully by the heavy weight of the pills. Quickly metabolized by the sheer heat of her being.
There were eight seashells on the table beside Mrs. Lovett’s hospital bed. One for every day that she had been asleep. One for every morning that Sweeney had visited. He would only ever buy one at a time, hoping that he wouldn’t need to come back for another. Sometimes, he’d stay from breakfast until visiting hours were over. Other times, he was forced to return to his parlor so that he could continue to have an income. He wanted to make sure that they were still comfortable financially when she woke up so that she wouldn’t feel the need to push too hard, she would either way. That was just her nature, he thought with a frown. He hadn’t ever noticed, he hadn’t paid mind to anything about her. Even though she was what made it possible not only for him to complete his revenge, but to have a place to stay and meals to eat and live a somewhat functioning life. He owed her his life. And he had threatened to kill her.
He deserved the pain that her death would cause him. For all the grief he’d brought upon her. It would only be fitting that the last part of his former life be so cruelly torn away from him. Then, he really would have nothing left. And the judge wouldn’t be to blame this time. He held her cold hand in his own and rubbed little circles in the inside of her wrist.
Now he knew what it was like to have loved someone and be met with silence. Surprised she didn’t smash a slate over his head sooner, he thought with a sad smirk. He even started to notice little things. Her long lashes, the curve of her cheekbone, full lips and red hair that shined like fire under the sunlight. How small she was in comparison to him, which made him wince internally for every time that he was rough with her. When she woke up, he would treat her more carefully. With tenderness and gentle touches. He would make things right when she woke up. If she ever did.
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Some of my new/old favorite things that I think you should take a look at
New favorite movies:
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1982, with George Heard and Angela Lansbury) - It’s one of the most entertaining performances I’ve seen in a while, and despite what people say about Johnny Depp’s take on the character, I think I love George Heard’s portrayal a lot more. He just seems more sympathetic and has a certain aura of that of a mad genius- his dynamic with Angela Lansbury’s Mrs. Lovett is also pretty fun as well, as she seems to have a really quick and diabolical sense of humor, which is quite enjoyable. The music is also really catchy and well crafted around the dark subject matter of the play, and is lyrically masterful in some fun wordplay. This is quite a tragic comedy, helmed by quite a tragic comedian, Mr. Sweeney Todd.
Sabrina (1995, with Julia Ormond and Harrison Ford) - At first I didn’t like this movie- mainly because I didn’t pay too much attention to it, which made its flaws stand out a lot more. However the second time around I was able to appreciate the simple beauty the film was trying to portray; I really did believe Ormond’s Sabrina had transformed into a sophisticated young woman and that Ford’s Linus was genuinely a tired businessman falling in love with her. Yes there are some things I wish had panned out a lot differently (David’s excuse for hitting on Sabrina being basically, “Well she’s hot now, let’s get man-whoring!”), the film isn’t perfect, but with a delicately beautiful score crafted by none other than the man himself John Williams, and a postcard perfect setting with some award-winning actors and actresses, you just might fall in love with Sabrina as many others had before.
Phantom of the Opera (1925) - Boy do I love some aesthetic and some cheesy 1920′s melodrama! As you would expect from any film in the 1920′s, many loved to deal with the subject of romanticism, albeit heavily Victorian overtones, but married with it is the want of complexity and depth- such want or presentation being rampant throughout that type of literature and film- but being unable to present such depth. Basically,
“I’m ugly but I hope that you can love me despite all that! I’ll treat you like a queen!” Said Erik.
“Gah! You’re ugly so that makes you evil! Byeeeeeeee!” Cried Christine.
And that’s about as deep as the waters of love and insanity got, but then again the imagery and ideas this film provokes is very satisfying- though I can’t say anything about the music since this is a silent film.
Alice Adams (1935) - It’s a little old favorite of mine; I saw it last year and it made me think of my own situation. It just proves that middle-class girls today had it rough even back then, and that’s practically one of the only reasons I like it- that and I think Katherine Hepburn gives a good performance. I’d say though that this film isn’t for everyone, as it was made in the 1930′s (you can draw your own conclusions there), but overall it’s a simple little film about trying to overcome financial adversity.
Guardians of the Galaxy 2 (2017): OKAY DON’T KILL ME. I did not like this movie that much the first time I saw it. I thought there were no stakes and everything seemed too nostalgic, bright and cheery, and not very deep in writing the plot and characters- the CGI backgrounds got on my nerves as well. HOWEVER, after watching Linday Ellis’s review of the film, presenting some things I hadn’t noticed before, I had second thoughts and evaluated what the movie actually was. Family is integral to the theme of the Guardians, and with family it can make a franchise last a lot more. I also found after my reconsideration, Guardians of the Galaxy 2 presents a lot more darker aspects of family and how to deal with them. With this in mind, I think I might give this film another watch to try and understand what I missed.
Link to her review of the film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VulkN5OLEM
New Favorite Songs:
Tatsuro Yamashita, “Love Talkin’ (Honey it’s You): Okay Tatsuro Yamashita YOU ARE A GENIUS. Oh my god I wish American radio let us hear more foreign music, this is so lovely to listen to! It makes me think of summertime, coffeecake, and lemonade- it’s just so sweet! :D
Saint Pepsi, “Skylar Spence” (Love talkin’s vaporwave counterpart): Saint Pepsi turned Yamashita’s summery feel-good song into a fun, catchy, dance-club/future disco/funk anthem, and I never grow tired of it. I always want to dance!
Tatsuro Yamashita, “Magic Ways”: It’s bouncy and lovely as usual, but also very romantic and sweet- it never gets old.
Fleetwood Mac, “Rhiannon”: Another good song to listen to when it’s raining outside (turn off the lights and let the natural light come in)
Electric Light Orchestra, “Don’t bring me down”: I think this should be the anthem of teachers everywhere- it really captures the rhythm of starting the day and makes me think of the little struggles we try to move past, everyday drudging on trying to not let life get you down. It’s catchy and bad-ass.
La la land, “Someone in the crowd”: This makes you want to find a stage and dance all over it.
Coldplay, “Green Eyes”: Imaging sitting in a little restaurant and bar with your bf/gf- warm, casual, and chill.
The Struts, “Ballroom Blitz”: This is a perfect cover and it will spur to to dance and jump up and down your living room, playing air guitar.
New/Old Favorite Shows (on cable, I don’t have netflix):
Svengoolie: Saturdays at 8/7c on MeTV (1250), the Macabre and cheesy Svengoolie will introduce a classic horror movie and interject with some bad puns, a really nice way to spend your Saturday nights.
The Carol Burnett Show: Reruns air on MeTV (1250), her comedy is treasured and golden, there are several great old skits that are legend in the comedic world that really shine even to this day.
The Bold and the Beautiful: Airs on CBS (3), This soap opera has no other value other than to laugh at its absurdity and dream-like logic. It is the most vapid and shallow shit you’ve ever seen, but that just makes it even more enjoyable! It’s Greek mythology in LA, where everyone is stupid, lies their asses off to get what they want, has the most black-and-white and empty morals, and basically everyone including their grandfather can’t keep it in their pants.
Friends: Who doesn’t like Friends?
The Big Bang Theory: Debatable, but I like it anyways, it’s funny at times.
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CANNIBAL COMEDY
The very thought of real cannibalism makes us sick – which is probably why we find it morbidly delightful in comedies.
To whet your appetite here is a link to a 1970 Monty Python cannibal skit:
We’re inspired this week by the release of the absurdist cannibal French film Slack Bay which premiered at Cannes 2016.
SLACK BAY (2016)
Director Bruno Dumont cites Peter Sellers, Monty Python, and Laurel and Hardy as cinematic influences for his delightful foray into his absurdist farce.
His cast is a mashup of pros and amateurs. The elder Van Peteghems are played by the cream of French cinema, Juliette Binoche and Fabrice Luchini, while the Bruforts are played by local nonactors whose authentic gruffness undercuts the stars’ antic flamboyance beat for beat. Dumont raises conflicts of class, character, and gender into an off-kilter legend.
He is equally brazen with his bold mashup of genres — cops-and-cannibals, high-society-drawing-room, and rustic-outdoors comedy, set in a French seaside resort village in 1910. The bourgeois Van Peteghem clan vacation in their villa overlooking the bay; the Brufort family of mussel-gatherers and ferrymen live on a ramshackle farm in the lowlands. Several tourists have disappeared, and two loopy police inspectors investigate in vain—what they don’t know is that the Bruforts have been eating them.
As the grisly mysteries mount and love blossoms between the family’s transgender teen and the son of a local fisherman, Binoche and company ratchet the slapstick up to eleven.
THE COOK, THE THIEF, THE WIFE THE LOVER (1989)
Peter Greenaway’s sumptuous genre-bender stars Helen Mirren as the wife to an English gangster named Albert Spica who finds herself trapped, offended, and disgusted by her husband’s thuggish ways, as night after night he takes over the dining hall of the restaurant he owns.
She spots a quiet bookish type who dines alone and becomes entangled in a secret affair with him—that is until her crook husband finds out. Spica kills the guy, but Mirren’s Georgina gets the last laugh—when she brings the body back to the restaurant’s chef, makes him cook her deceased lover, and forces her husband to eat the body.
EATING RAOUL (1982)
Director/co-writer Paul Bartel stars as Paul Bland, who with his wife Mary (Mary Woronov) play a prudish married couple living in Hollywood who take to murdering swingers in their apartment building for a little extra cash.
Robert Beltran plays Raoul, a small time criminal who witnesses the Blands’ dirty business and strikes a bargain for his silence, sharing the profits from the murder victims (Raoul also strikes up a sexual relationship with Mary).
Eating Raoul successfully walks the tightrope between delight and disgust — its absurdist sense of humor makes it an enjoyable romp even when its subject matter becomes rather bleak.
Bartel, a graduate of the “Roger Corman School,” keeps things lively, and often times the movie plays like a sitcom gone pitch black. The characters were meant to return for a sequel entitled Bland Ambition, which Bartel wrote with original screenwriter Richard Blackburn, but it failed to materialize.
DELICATESSEN (1991)
Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet became instant cult darlings with Delicatessen, their darkly delicious debut. Set in a steampunky, post-apocalyptic Paris, the movie concerns an apartment building and the building’s bizarre inhabitants.
Caro and Jeunet toy with the interrelationships among the tenants — in the film’s trailer, the squeaky springs of a couple making love echo, in one form or another, throughout the building.
The man making love in the trailer is the butcher (Jean-Claude Dreyfus), who serves as the de facto landlord of the building and offers up cannibalistic delicacies. Caro and Jeunet are working in full-on comic book mode here, and even the cannibalism is delivered on screen with a dash of madcap surrealism.
The movie’s combination of gruesomeness and absurdity has aged well, as have its playful touch with such a dark subject.
SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET (2007)
Tim Burton’s adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s beloved 1979 musical, is based on the exploits of the so-called barber (Johnny Depp) who gives his customers too close a shave. This is old school horror movie stuff, with a touch of dark humor.
The cannibal part comes in when the grisly and greedy Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter), becomes Todd’s partner in crime, disposing of the bodies by dicing them up into meat pies and serving them to the patrons of the pub she owns. Burton adds touches of his signature dark whimsy — such as a musical number composed of shots of people getting their throats slit.
There’s a love story here too, and a tale of revenge, plus Todd trying to reconnect with his long lost daughter. But on purely cinematic terms, it’s really all about the murders and the meat.
CANNIBAL! THE MUSICAL (1993)
Before South Park, before Book of Mormon, Cannibal! was Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s low-budget first feature, based on Parker’s obsession with one of the grisliest episodes from the Old West – a guide eating his companions after running into trouble in the Rocky Mountains. Perfect material for a feel-good musical.
It references the ‘Donner Party’, the other infamous case of cannibalism from the era. Set in 1873, this musical focuses on Alfred Packer who is accused of cannibalizing members of his West-traveling party.
Given Matt & Trey’s sensibilities, it’s no surprise that the film is an absurdist farce—Japanese are cast as Indians, a cyclops’s eye spurts pus, and Alfred has a kung-fu fight with a fur trapper named Frenchy.
Cannibal! is surprisingly light on gore for a Troma Team release concentrating instead on sight gags, sex jokes, and absurd songs like “Shpadoinkle” and “Hang the Bastard.”
CANNIBAL COMEDY was originally published on FollowTheThread
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“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night” @casara123
It took a lot of self-control not to delete this chapter and discontinue the story lol. I’m going to go eat pizza and try not to hate myself.
Liam held true to his word about buying Mrs. Lovett leather boots. She let him pick them out. They were a velvet burgundy color. She sat down by a nearby bench outside the boutique. Then he moved to put them on for her.
First taking care when dressing her legs in the new stockings, she felt her heart skip a beat as his warm hands brushed across her skin. Swallowing hard as she raised her skirts just a slight so that he could tie the ribbon garter to hold each on in place. Gliding his hand along the length of her calves, then worshiping the shape of her feet before guiding one into a leather boot. Buckling them secure.
Mrs. Lovett struggled to stand up, as her legs felt like jelly.
In a daze, in a girlish daydream that had melted her into a puddle. Her thoughts were incoherent and she stumbled over her words when he offered his arm then led her back into the night life.
Liam not only hailed the carriage for them back home. But even insisted upon escorting Mrs. Lovett back to her shop on Fleet Street. After spending a long evening filled with laughter and affection. A hot meal shared over a small candlelit table. And walked along the shops, the streets lively with the sound of horses trading and couples laughing, glass clinking together, windows were glowing from the moonlight reflecting off them.
She shivered underneath the winter moon and sniffled. Startled when he stopped them, before she could refuse, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. Letting her put it on but then helping her button it up.
“Are you sure?” She tried, her voice a few octaves higher than usual.
“Quite sure, Mrs. Lovett.” He said with a warm smile.
It felt like she had finally woken from a long dream as they were nearing her shop, she moved to take off his coat when he stopped her. Insisting that she keep it, Mrs. Lovett’s mouth fell open. The heavy garment had to be 30 pounds at least. He moved to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her neck.
“That way, I’ll always be holding you.”
Her stomach did a summersault as he took her hand again and walked her to the front door. As she moved to unlock it, he kissed her hand and bid her a good evening. Saying that he hoped he might see her again soon. Mrs. Lovett nodded. His voice was like velvet. She didn’t trust herself to speak for fear of sounding like an idiot. She was going to play it cool. Until she closed the door behind her and swallowed a large gulp of air. Clutching her chest as if she hadn’t been breathing the entire time.
“Are you okay?” Toby asked from the parlor, his voice thick with sleep, Mrs. Lovett assaulting the old door having stirred him from his light slumber. What without any gin to knock him out.
“No!” Mrs. Lovett all but squealed and clambered to her bedroom. The 13-year old left bewildered, deciding it was best to roll over and go back to sleep.
It was a few minutes past midnight when Sweeney slipped into Mrs. Lovett’s bedroom, concerned that she hadn’t spoken to him since their confrontation and he hadn’t realized she had returned home. The insufferable baker could have at least told him so he wouldn’t have had to waste his thoughts worrying about her. He didn’t like having to show any concern for her. He moved the back of his hand to her forehead, making sure she hadn’t caught any sort of ailment. She was so soundless that he could have mistaken her for a corpse and with that he placed two fingers at the curve of her neck to feel for a pulse. When not even a second later she woke with a yelp, lurching forward so that her head banged hard against Sweeney, who let out a cry of pain.
He continued to groan and moved a hand to cover her mouth which in her half-asleep state only caused her to throw more havoc, even biting down on one of his fingers. He hissed and finally pulled away. Muttering a slew of obscenities. She quieted, trying to catch her breath.
“Sweeney?”
The angst-ridden barber grunted in response.
“What the hell… You scared me half to death.”
“You came home late.”
“I was with that barber, you had wanted me to see him.”
“Oh…” The quiet, homicidal maniac whispered belatedly, surprised that she was still willing to do what he wanted. Feeling rather stupid as it meant he hadn’t needed to get her gift or apologize after all. Well, he’d gone through all that trouble, might as well carry on with the plan.
“Mrs. Lovett.” He started. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had no right. Thank you for holding onto my belongings.” He wasn’t going to say ‘friends,’ this was already awkward.
“You’re so--”
“I’m not going to repeat myself, Mrs. Lovett.” Sweeney said sternly. Making her smile, knowing that he couldn’t see it anyway. In her bedroom that was draped in darkness.
He also took from the bedside table, what was also meant to be a part of his apology. Even though it felt grossly unnecessary now. Shoving it roughly in her hands, making her jump.
She traced the object with her hands. “What is this, love?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sweeney rolled his eyes.
“A book, for me?”
“Is a present such a novel concept to you, Mrs. Lovett?” He couldn’t help but tease.
“Thank you.” She whispered, placing a hand over his own.
Sweeney shifted uncomfortably, drawing his hand away as soon as he could.
Shifting back to business mode quickly. “You’re not to be alone with him at night. And stay focused on the main task and…” He trailed off.
“Yes?” The petite baker prompted him.
“Why are you wearing a winter coat to bed?”
“Goodnight love.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, moving to leave.
“Thank you.” He said, too quietly to be heard. Then left without another word.
Mrs. Lovett inhaled the scent of the warm coat she was wearing and exhaled contently.
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