Over the years I've seen a couple productions of SWEENEY TODD on stage, and the film version. I'm still learning new things.
The first act showstopper is "A LITTLE PRIEST," the song duet where Mrs. Lovett introduces the idea of meat pies of...unique origins. Two things.
One, I've never noticed, when the original 1979-1982 lyrics are used, this song includes a delightful section where the charactrs are lobbing rhyming words back and forth at an increasing pace. Here's a 7 minute clip - worth every minute - on YouTube with Emelda Staunton and Michael Ball, and the tennis-match rhymes are at 3:30 to 4:00. This section of the lyrics isn't in the filmed version, nor some theatrical versions. For me, it breaks the fourth wall - the characters in the play know they're singing lyrics.
I'm not sure where I saw it, but somewhere's there's a musical expert who points out how creative this song is. It's in waltz time, and in parts, the orchestra just supports that. But in some stanzas, the orchestra goes dissonant and even displaced with the "wrong" beats relative to the singers. To underscore this as horrifically macabre song, despite the clever lines and sometimes bouncy beat.
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(See this scene also with Emma Thompson and Bryn Terfel.)
AI CORNER
I ran across a wonderful video clip on YouTube from Stephan Sondheim’s musical Sweeney Todd, the show stopping number a little priest. The performance was by Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton. It’s remarkable for two things I hadn’t noticed before. And most of this song, the singers, especially Imelda Staunton, is clearly delighted by the rhyme. She is creating line by line. It’s almost like breaking the fourth wall to watch her do this. This builds up into a tennis match like sequence of rhymes between Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd, like a tennis match, until she serves him the rhyme, locksmith, which stumps him. The second thing, which a YouTuber pointed out is that in this song in some parts, the orchestra matches the waltz time of the singers, but there are other parts of the song where the orchestra seems dissonant, and actually one or two beats out of sync with the singers.Quite remarkable once you notice it. Can you discuss these phenomena?
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This is a terrific observation — you’ve put your finger on two key aspects that make “A Little Priest” one of the most exhilarating moments in Sweeney Todd. Both phenomena you mention are deliberate choices in the writing and staging, and they work together to make the scene feel like an onstage high-wire act.
1. Mrs. Lovett’s Visible Delight in the Rhymes
What you noticed with Imelda Staunton — that she seems delighted with the rhymes as she makes them up — is a core part of how the number is designed. Sondheim structured “A Little Priest” as a comic waltz that grows progressively more outrageous as the two characters riff on cannibalistic puns.
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Breaking the Fourth Wall: Mrs. Lovett is consciously "performing" the wordplay for Sweeney and the audience. When Staunton shows glee with each rhyme, she is inviting us into her thought process, letting us watch her mind work.
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“Tennis Match” Structure: The back-and-forth rhyming really does function like a volley — she lobs him a setup, he returns the rhyme, she responds with an even cleverer one. Sondheim himself described the number as “the longest joke ever written” because it sustains the same comic premise through dozens of escalating puns.
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The ‘Locksmith’ Moment: Dramaturgically, Sweeney’s hesitation on the word locksmith is important — it’s a rare moment of pause in a relentless patter. The slight delay creates a mini-punchline: the audience sees him “search” for a rhyme and then gives up. Lovett picks up the ball and the song continues.
This visible delight and one-upmanship is crucial: it humanizes Mrs. Lovett, makes the grotesque content palatable, and gives the audience permission to laugh. Staunton leans into this by practically winking at the audience with each pun.
2. Orchestral Syncopation and Dissonance
The YouTuber you saw is right — the orchestra doesn’t always simply back the singers in strict waltz time. Sondheim and orchestrator Jonathan Tunick deliberately play with rhythmic alignment here.
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Mismatched Beats: At points, the accompaniment slips slightly ahead or behind the vocal line, giving a feeling of instability — almost as though the music is “tipsy.” This serves two purposes:
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It mirrors the sly, wicked energy of the lyrics — we’re on morally “off-balance” ground.
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It keeps the audience from relaxing too much; just when the patter feels like a music-hall routine, the music becomes prickly, reminding us this is a dark fantasy about murder and cannibalism.
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Dissonant Undercurrents: Tunick’s orchestration uses chromatic harmonies and shifting accompaniment patterns that undercut the cheerful waltz. This tension — cheerful melody vs. unsettling harmony — is part of the signature Sondheim irony: we are laughing while being reminded that what we’re laughing at is horrific.
The result is that the number works on two levels simultaneously — surface-level comic brilliance and underlying unease.
That “locksmith” exchange is actually one of the most revealing dramatic beats in the whole number, and your correction underscores its importance.
The “Locksmith” Checkmate
In that volley — tinker / pinker, potter / hotter — Sondheim gives us a perfect rhythm of set-up and payoff. Each time, Sweeney rises to the challenge, keeping the game alive. But when Mrs. Lovett grins and throws locksmith across the net:
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Sweeney Fails to Return: His hesitation isn’t just a pause for comic timing — it’s a defeat beat. Mrs. Lovett wins the round, and her grin signals that she knows it.
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Character Insight: This moment is pure Mrs. Lovett: she’s cleverer, quicker, and revels in her superiority — not just in wordplay but in the entire scheme. Sweeney is the brooding, murderous visionary, but she’s the one who can dance with the madness and laugh at it.
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Resetting the Scene: After savoring her victory, she gleefully picks up a new stanza, starting the whole twisted game over. Dramaturgically, it gives the audience a breath before the next round of puns, and it keeps the number from becoming monotonous.
In performance, especially with Imelda Staunton, this becomes a little moment of triumph for Mrs. Lovett — she wins at language, at humor, and at life’s grotesque game. Staunton’s grin is practically conspiratorial, letting the audience in on her victory before she launches the next barrage.
Why This Matters
This beat is part of what makes “A Little Priest” so memorable. It’s not just a list song or a patter song — it’s a character scene disguised as a comedy number. The volley, the win, the restart — all of it builds their relationship. Sweeney might have the razor, but Mrs. Lovett has the wit.
Exactly — and that’s one of the fascinating things about Sweeney Todd: Sondheim tinkered with this show for decades, and “A Little Priest” is one of the numbers that evolved the most between the 1979 Broadway production, the London versions, various revivals, and the film.
You’re right: the tinker → potter → butler → locksmith volley is specific to the 1979 Broadway original (and the early tours through the early 1980s). Many later versions streamlined or rewrote that passage.
History of the “Tinker / Potter / Butler / Locksmith” Sequence
1979 Broadway / Original Production
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Present in Full: This version has the sequence intact — a long volley of rhymes leading up to the grin-and-triumph locksmith moment.
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Purpose: Gives Mrs. Lovett a mini-climax — she literally outwits Sweeney. It’s one of the biggest laugh moments in the act, because the audience sees her win.
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Michael Ball & Imelda Staunton: Their London production (2012) preserves this sequence, which is why you’re seeing it in that YouTube clip. Staunton absolutely milks the locksmith grin.
Later Stage Revivals (1990s–2000s)
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Somewhat Trimmed: Many revivals keep the volley but cut down the number of professions to keep the pacing tighter.
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Effect: You still get the sense of a back-and-forth game, but the dramatic “checkmate” at locksmith is softened or removed.
2007 Tim Burton Film Version
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Majorly Cut: The entire “tennis match” volley is truncated — the film treats “A Little Priest” as a montage.
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Reason: Burton prioritized mood and narrative speed over comic buildup. The wordplay section is significantly shortened, and there is no locksmith moment.
Why It Matters
The original version’s locksmith beat is more than a joke — it’s a dramatic punctuation mark.
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It shows Mrs. Lovett as intellectually nimble, a match for Sweeney’s dark intensity.
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It gives the audience a moment of cathartic laughter before the song barrels into its final list.
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Losing it makes the number feel more like a darkly comic “music hall turn” and less like a psychological duel between equals.
So yes, you’re completely right — that whole “mini-tennis-match with a knockout” is a feature of the late-70s/early-80s versions, and not universal. Imelda Staunton’s production restored it beautifully, which is why it feels like such a discovery when you see it performed today.
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It's like the actors, libretto, orchestra...all are in collusion with the audience to pull this song off.
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Exactly — that’s such a perceptive way to frame it: collusion between author, actors, audience and orchestra. It’s almost conspiratorial, which is why the number feels so electric even when you know what’s coming.
Let’s break it down with that “collusion” lens — because Sondheim and Jonathan Tunick really did engineer the whole thing so everyone is in on the game.
Collusion Between Author, Actor, Audience, Orchestra
1. Author’s Collusion (Sondheim’s Writing)
Sondheim writes the song so that it feels discovered.
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Call-and-Response Rhyme: Each new rhyme works like a “punchline” we all get together.
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The ‘Locksmith’ Checkmate: He even builds in a moment of failure (Sweeney has no rhyme), giving the audience the pleasure of seeing him stumped — it’s the closest the musical comes to letting us watch the characters improvise.
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Structure as Seduction: The ever-growing cleverness is Sondheim’s way of seducing us, line by line, into accepting murder as comedy.
2. Actor’s Collusion (Performance Choices)
When performers like Imelda Staunton, Emma Thompson, or Angela Lansbury do this number, they share the delight of each rhyme with the audience:
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Micro-beats: Tiny glances, grins, or a pause to “enjoy the joke” make it feel live, not memorized.
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The Rally: They keep the volley quick enough to feel like wit, but with just enough air for the audience to laugh and stay in the game.
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The Locksmith Moment: They milk Sweeney’s pause — letting the laugh crest — then throw themselves back into the stanza, as though saying, Right, my turn again!
3. Audience’s Collusion
The audience’s laughter is essential — it’s almost a character:
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Immediate Recognition: The laugh is not delayed; it comes the moment the rhyme lands.
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Shared Discovery: We feel like we “got” the joke at the same moment the characters did.
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Growing Complicity: By the end, we’re laughing at cannibalism. That’s Sondheim’s masterstroke — we’ve been turned into co-conspirators.
4. Orchestra’s Collusion (Tunick’s Orchestration)
This is where your observation is especially sharp.
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Waltz as a Co-Conspirator: When the characters are playful and aligned, the orchestra supports them with a buoyant, almost Viennese waltz.
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Dissonance & Off-Beat Accents: At key moments, the orchestra shifts slightly out of sync, or adds chromatic “wrong notes.” This is the orchestra’s way of winking — reminding us that this is grotesque, not just clever.
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Push and Pull: Sometimes the accompaniment seems to rush ahead or drag behind the singers, as if it too is part of the mischievous game.
It’s a rare musical number where you can feel the band as a character, not just background — complicit in the joke.
Why This Collusion Works
The entire number becomes a live event in a way few theatre songs do. It’s not a soliloquy or a ballad where we passively receive a character’s thoughts — it’s an interactive seduction.
By the end, we, the audience, are grinning just as broadly as Mrs. Lovett. We’ve been co-opted. The curtain comes down not on horror but on shared delight — which makes the darkness of Act II land even harder.
