minkin

I looked at my mother because I was a version of my mother. I looked away from my mother because I was a version of my mother. I was me, but I was also her—my mother, and I understood this all too well.

there is SO much depth and beauty in the stories we hear in sweeney todd. a murderer who was once a doting father, so blind with hatred and anger towards the world that he couldn’t even see his own wife and daughter, staring him right in the face. a woman down on her luck and in love, trying so desperately to make a connection with a deeply broken and disturbed human. an unfortunately innocent and unknowing boy who ended up being the one who could sense the dark truth. a love at first sight that refused to die, even when torn apart by the disgusting perversion of a greedy abuser. sweeney todd is about all of these people, doing absolutely horrible things, all out of some form of love. that’s the beauty of sweeney todd. sweeney killed for a father and husband’s love. lovett baked real people with real lives into pies to maintain a shallow, lustful relationship she impossibly dreamed would bloom into true romance. turpin destroyed an innocent family because he could not contain his ‘love’ for a pretty woman and her daughter. toby slit a throat because his mother figure was all he had, and he loved her, simply and purely, as an innocent child loves a mother. their love is the purest of all in the story.