Or Edward and Ray’s Big Adventure. Well, really Edward and Carter’s, but we’ll get to that later.
Morgan Freeman plays Carter Chambers, a sixty-something mechanic and grandfather who gets the news one day that he has cancer — I think lung cancer, but they don’t come right out and say that. Jack Nicholson plays Edward Cole, an incredibly wealthy businessman who, on about the same day, also gets the news that he has cancer. They find themselves sharing a room at the hospital, much to Edward’s displeasure, and bond over the agonies of chemotherapy and boredom, and so a quest is born.
I like Morgan Freeman — he’s sort of like the caring uncle everyone would like to have, and he seems like a smart and nice guy. Jack Nicholson, on the other hand, is really starting to frighten me. His head looks too big, and his face seems to be contorted into a permanent expression of something between thoughtless mischief and downright evil. At one point, he asks Morgan Freeman if he’s the devil, and I had the urge to yell, “Look who’s talking!” but quite frankly, that’s kind of the way the role was written, so he’s just about perfect for the part.
He has all the trappings of wealth — a private jet, a put-upon personal assistant (Sean Hayes, of “Will & Grace”) to handle all the business of living, and a little copper thing that apparently follows him everywhere to keep him generously supplied with Kopi Luwak, the most expensive beverage in the world. (But do NOT click that link before you see the film, or you’ll spoil one of the better jokes.) Carter is solidly middle-class, blessed with three kids and grandchildren, and a wife who adores him. He’s a voracious reader, and such a whiz at Jeopardy, they really should have made that part of their quest. He could’ve won a bundle.

I’m telling you, Jack Nicholson is totally up to something.

But the point is, they make a list of all the things they meant to do with their lives, and now find themselves with very little time in which to do them. They travel the world, quite literally, stopping in France, Africa, Tibet and Hong Kong that we see, and they must have had some kind of layover in England, because they had “Visit Stonehenge” crossed off. They see the Taj Mahal and (sort of) Mt. Everest. And they skydive. I don’t know why, but for some reason skydiving always shows up on every such list. Personally, dying or not, the only way I’m jumping out of a plane is if both wings have just fallen off, and maybe not even then. Give me Stonehenge or Macchu Picchu any day.
So it’s part travelogue, part comedy, and part drama, which is normally a pretty strange and unsettling sort of hybrid, but which works here, in the capable hands of two such veteran actors. And personal assistant Tommy (or Matthew, depending on who you ask, since Edward doesn’t like real names, apparently) does a great job too, holding his own beautifully in a very low-key way even with such esteemed competition. And yes, I’ll admit it — it made me sniffle. But I wasn’t the only person in the theatre doing that, at least. Thankfully, it never quite goes as far as smacking the audience over the head with its message, which I was really worried about, though the voiceovers come close. On the whole, though, it was very well done, and I feel a little bad now that I wasn’t really looking forward to seeing it.
We’ll go with three and three-quarter idols. The sarcasm and witty exchanges (which I know I always like) keep it from getting too soppy and sentimental, and they manage not to go too far the other direction also and turn it into a really dark comedy. Nothing at all against dark comedies, but that wouldn’t have been right here, I think. So don’t let Jack scare you away; you can go ahead and see this one without worrying about having nightmares. Well, not too many, at least…

Ok, both my main controllers are out of commission still. I’m left with a 25 key mini controller.
So I made a little quirky percussion study.
Human Beat
And here’s a quick percussion bit I whipped up as a short-order request:
Asian Drums
Cheers.

What’s black and white and red all over? Why, Johnny Depp as Sweeney Todd, of course.
The Sweeney Todd story has a long history, actually, dating back to at least 1846. He was originally just a crazed serial killer, a London urban legend who nibbled on his victims — sort of an early Jack the Ripper. But that’s not the kind of role they could get Johnny Depp to play, I suppose, so the film goes with the Stephen Sondheim musical version, based on a 1973 update by Christopher Bond. This adds in the vengeance angle — in a totally Count of Monte Cristo way, young barber Benjamin Barker is convicted of false charges by a judge who lusts after Mrs. Barker. With Mr. Barker transported to Australia, the judge swoops in, claiming both wife and baby daughter for his own. But Barker returns, reborn as Sweeney Todd, and determines to get even. He doesn’t find any huge stash of treasure like the Count did, though.
The judge is Alan Rickman, and he actually does sing a little, and he’s pretty good. Johnny Depp sings a lot, and he does all right, too. And Helena Bonham Carter, as Mrs. Lovett, sings too, in between squishing roaches with her rolling pin and making what she herself calls the worst pies in London. The point is, there’s lots and lots of singing, so be warned. Even minor characters frequently break into song at the drop of a hat, and I know that can be kind of jarring.
The other jarring thing, of course, is the blood. There’s more blood than there is singing, I think, and though none of it looks terribly real, it still means this movie isn’t for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. I mean, it is about a man murdering people with a straight razor, so youve got to expect that, but Tim Burton doesn’t pull the punches, either –not that I would have expected him to. All the blood’s right out there for everyone to see. I kept wondering how in the world Sweeney could clean it all up so fast and so completely, because if his barbershop was as covered with blood as it really should have been given what he was up to, everyone would have run screaming at the sight. Instead they all just kept wandering in obediently to get their throats cut. I lost count.

Mr. Todd sings a love song to his razors, and Mrs. Lovett sings a love song to him.

Mrs. Lovett was landlady and friend to the Barkers in happier days, and always had a fondness for Mr. Barker, so she has no problem helping Mr. Todd with his murderous revenge now. But the judge still has daughter Johanna Barker, now a beautiful young lady, in his clutches, and he keeps her basically locked up in his house, sewing and singing. This was pretty much the fate of all well-to-do young ladies in Victorian London, but everyone wants to rescue her just the same, especially after the judge proposes marriage. In true musical tradition, you see, Johanna has fallen in love with the young sailor lurking outside her house, staring up at her admiringly. I would call that stalking myself, but she throws him the key to the house, and he immediately begins planning how best to spirit her away.
Knowing few people in London, young Anthony turns to a man he met on the voyage from Australia — none other than Mr. Todd — and that’s when things really get messy, in more ways than one. Sweeney agrees to help, but things only get worse and worse, and the body count only gets higher and higher. Just because everyone sings doesn’t mean it’s a happy film.
In fact, except for some flashback scenes and the almost painful Technicolor of Mrs. Lovett’s fever dreams of a quiet life by the seaside for her and Mr. Todd, the whole film looks like Sleepy Hollow, with that sort of washed-out, greyish color, like an old photograph that was tinted long ago. Everything looks faded and depressed, even the lush surroundings of the judge’s house, smoke hangs everywhere, and it generally looks like a terribly unhealthy place to live — so it’s Victorian London to a T.
Anyway, four idols here. It is thoroughly gruesome, and just may have turned me into a vegetarian, but it’s so well-acted and put together I can forgive it all the blood. Everyone goes completely over the top (especially Sacha Baron Cohen as competing barber and extremely flashy dresser Signor Pirelli) but they’re all having such fun it works perfectly, and I was a little uneasy even when I was laughing. Even while Mr. Todd and the judge are singing what seems like a sweet duet about the charms of pretty women, there’s still that blade lurking and creeping you out. I’m just glad someone invented the safety razor.