Alan Rickman had a voice that sounded like a cello being dragged through gravel and silk. It was a weapon. By the time Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street hit theaters in 2007, we already knew Rickman could play a villain with his eyes closed. We’d seen him drop off Nakatomi Plaza as Hans Gruber and sneer through potions class as Severus Snape. But playing Judge Turpin was different. It wasn't just about being "the bad guy." It was about singing Sondheim.
Think about that for a second. Stephen Sondheim is notoriously difficult. His music is jagged. The intervals are weird. If you miss a note by a fraction of a hair, the whole thing falls apart. And yet, there’s Rickman, stepping into a role that requires him to be both a sexual predator and a melodic baritone. Honestly, it’s one of the most unsettling performances in modern musical cinema, mostly because Rickman doesn't play Turpin like a cartoon. He plays him like a man who genuinely believes he is the hero of his own twisted story.
The Judge Turpin We Almost Didn't Hear
A lot of people don’t realize how nervous Rickman actually was about the singing. He wasn't a "musical theater guy" in the traditional sense. In fact, back in drama school, he was basically told his voice was a bit of a disaster. He once recalled being told he sounded like his voice was coming out of the "back end of a drainpipe." Not exactly a ringing endorsement for a future Sondheim lead.
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But Tim Burton didn't want a polished Broadway vibrato. He wanted grit. He wanted characters who sounded like they lived in the soot and blood of Victorian London. Rickman actually had to audition for Sondheim—just him, a pianist, and the legendary composer in a room. Can you imagine the pressure? Sondheim, the guy who wrote West Side Story lyrics, just staring at you while you try to hit a low G.
Sondheim’s big note to him? "Be more conversational."
That’s the secret to why the Alan Rickman Sweeney Todd performance works. He isn't "performing" the songs. He’s speaking them on pitch. When he sings "Pretty Women" with Johnny Depp, it isn't a showtune. It’s a duel. It’s two predators circling each other, one with a razor and one with a gavel, and Rickman’s "casual" delivery makes the hair on your arms stand up.
Why "Pretty Women" is the Movie's Best Scene
Most fans point to the gore or the meat pies when they talk about Sweeney Todd. But the core of the tension is the duet between Todd and Turpin. It’s called "Pretty Women." If you watch it closely, you’ll see Rickman doing something brilliant with his posture. He’s relaxed. He’s leaning back in that chair, exposing his throat—the ultimate sign of trust—while singing about the beauty of women.
It's ironic. It's sick. It's perfect.
Rickman’s voice sits right under Depp’s melody. He’s the anchor. Because he recorded his parts after Depp, he had to match the "roughness" of the vocals. There’s no autotune hiding things here; it’s just raw, breathy character work. Rickman later said that working with Depp was a "privilege," but he was the one who insisted on hearing Depp's tracks first so he could figure out how to layer his own "purr" beneath the barber's rage.
The Deleted Scene That Changed Everything
Here is a bit of trivia that still bugs die-hard fans: the "Mea Culpa" scene. In the original stage musical, Judge Turpin has a solo song where he literally whips himself (flagellation) out of guilt for his lust for Johanna. It’s dark. It’s intense.
Rickman actually filmed it.
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He went through the whole process of performing that extreme, vulnerable moment. But in the final edit, Burton cut it. Why? Probably because it made the movie too long, or maybe it made Turpin a little too human. Rickman was reportedly a bit bummed about it, though he understood the "rhythm of the film" required sacrifices. Without that scene, Turpin remains a more mysterious, looming shadow of corruption rather than a man struggling with his internal demons.
The Reality of the "Orange" Blood
Working on a Tim Burton set isn't like a normal day at the office. Rickman talked about how the blood used on set was actually bright orange. Why? Because of the way Burton desaturated the colors in post-production. To get that deep, iconic crimson on screen, the physical liquid had to be neon orange.
Rickman had to spend his final scenes covered in the stuff. He joked in interviews about the "crunch" of his shoulders every time he had to fall backward through the trapdoor chute. He did the fall himself multiple times. For a man in his 60s at the time, that’s no small feat. He wasn't just a "head" actor; he was physical. He understood that Turpin’s death had to be as violent and undignified as his life was "prestigious."
Is He the Best Judge Turpin?
Purists will always point to Edmund Lyndeck from the original 1979 Broadway cast. Lyndeck had the operatic power that Rickman lacked. But let's be real—the stage and the screen are different beasts. On stage, you need to reach the back row. On film, the camera is three inches from your face.
Rickman understood the intimacy of the lens.
He used his eyes—those heavy, weary lids—to convey a sense of boredom with his own cruelty. His Turpin isn't a cackling villain. He’s a man who has used the law to get whatever he wants for so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be told "no." That’s way scarier than a guy twirling a mustache.
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Some critics at the time, like Dan Goldwasser, felt the singing was the weak point of the film. They missed the "professional" polish. But honestly? They missed the point. Sweeney Todd is a horror story. It should sound a little broken. Rickman’s "clenched tone" (as some called it) was a choice. It was the sound of a man holding back a lifetime of filth.
What to do if you're a Rickman fan today
If you've only seen him as Snape, you’re missing the full picture. The Alan Rickman Sweeney Todd era was him at the height of his "character actor" powers. Here’s how to actually appreciate it:
- Listen to the soundtrack with headphones. Skip the visuals for a second. Listen to the way he enunciates the word "purity" in "Pretty Women." It’s disgusting and beautiful all at once.
- Watch his posture. Notice how Turpin moves compared to Snape. Snape is a vertical line; Turpin is a man who leans, who invades space, who looms.
- Find the interviews. Look up his 2007 chat with Michele Norris. He talks about the "drainpipe" voice and it makes you realize how much he had to overcome his own self-doubt to sing on screen.
Rickman didn't just play a role in Sweeney Todd. He occupied a space. He took a character that could have been a one-dimensional creep and turned him into a tragic, terrifying pillar of a crumbling society. He was, as always, the smartest person in the room—even when he was getting his throat slit.
Actionable Insight: To truly understand Rickman’s range, watch Sweeney Todd back-to-back with Truly, Madly, Deeply. You’ll see the same voice used for absolute tenderness and absolute corruption. It’s the ultimate masterclass in vocal acting.