Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street 
I don’t know about you guys but I’ve grown tired of Tim Burton’s emo sensibility and his pseudo-goth quirkiness. I mean, the man is obviously talented and has directed some of my favorite films, like Big Fish and Ed Wood, but I feel he’s becoming a little one-note, and so is his favorite leading man, Johnny Depp (the A-lister with the most annoying fanbase).
The director has been sticking to a certain formula for quite a while, and it has worked for him, but it’s now a little stale: take one part Depp, one part Bonham Carter, a dash of Alan Rickman, another of Timothy Spall and wrap it up in a neat, gothic package. Signaling the transitional period between gems as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and stinkers like Alice in Wonderland is Sweeney Todd, a solid albeit flawed musical, Tim’s bloodiest and most violent film yet.
Stephen Sondheim both hits and misses the mark. His glorious musical compositions are the best part, the life of this movie. His lyrics, on the other hand, veer towards cringe-worthy. The actors in this strange, beautiful film are great in performance and song with Burton’s wife, Helena Bonham Carter, standing out on both counts.