For years, Bryn Terfel was my Sweeney Todd — not in person, but through countless videos I watched and rewatched. His performance shaped how I imagined the role: grand, operatic, terrifying, and witty. So when licensed productions opened in Korea, I considered going… but in the end, I decided not to. Maybe I was holding on to that image of Sweeney as a larger-than-life, horror-stricken figure. But as many of you know, Sweeney Todd isn’t just that. It’s filled with dark humor, unexpected laughter, and a twisted kind of charm.

When planning my Broadway trip in the summer of 2023, I discovered that Sweeney Todd had been completely revived. I had never seen Hal Prince’s version, so I had no point of comparison — but this new staging featured Josh Groban as Sweeney and Annaleigh Ashford as Mrs. Lovett. I couldn’t believe it. Ashford — the most adorable Glinda I’d ever seen on video — and Groban, returning to Broadway for the first time since Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812. I began listening to the cast recordings and grew more excited with every song.

Since my trip was arranged on short notice, I couldn’t get a premium seat, but I managed a spot in the mid-orchestra block. The ticket was expensive, but it was worth every cent.

Before the show, I rewatched the 2007 movie and clips of the Hal Prince staging. The music alone is astonishing — I wondered, would they sound like the recordings? As I took my seat, the large proscenium arch bathed in a bluish-gray light gave the stage a cold, minimalistic look. Then the 26-piece orchestra — though it sounded even larger — began to play. (I had even seen a cellist enter the theater earlier while waiting in line.) The sound was immersive and atmospheric.

The “Ballad of Sweeney Todd” started slowly, with solo lines from the ensemble, then erupted into a full chorus — complete with sharp, twitching choreography of the upper body and neck. Just as the tension peaked, Sweeney burst through the ensemble from the back of the stage. There were no elaborate effects, but the stark staging, precise singing, and full orchestration created something emotionally overwhelming. I felt heat rise from within — a visceral, almost physical reaction. The way Sondheim uses rhythm and dissonance to tighten the psychological tension is something you feel physically, even before you grasp it intellectually.

I expected good singing and clever acting, but Annaleigh Ashford went beyond both. From her first scene, I was laughing — “When you get it, if you get it, good you got it” — and I didn’t stop. Her presence was magnetic, her timing flawless. She delivered the Admiral joke — “With… with… or without… your private…” — and before I could catch the rest, the audience burst into laughter. So did I. The way she paused, the buildup, the delivery — it was comic perfection. I couldn’t believe I was witnessing this live. And her British accent? It sounded absolutely authentic to me — I almost forgot she wasn’t native. I later learned her daughter jokingly told her not to use the “British accident,” which somehow made the whole thing even more endearing.

The show is filled with standout numbers. In “Pirelli’s Miracle Elixir,” I had expected a lighter, more boyish voice for Tobias, but quickly adjusted. Though his tone was deeper than I imagined for the role, his timing and presence worked well in the scene. His interaction with Ashford was tender and funny, with a rhythm that kept the moment lively. And I still found myself chuckling at the sight of her — my affection for her performance had built so naturally throughout the show that even her smallest gestures made me laugh. Pirelli had a rich baritone, and every cast member sang beautifully. Johanna’s pure soprano and twitchy physicality captured her fragility and desperation to escape Judge Turpin. Honestly, the actors playing Pirelli and Beadle Bamford were so strong, I could imagine either of them in the lead role. The Beggar Woman, knowing who she was, brought me sadness and wanted blame Benjamin Barker not noticing his wife.

The staging was simple but stunning. Bare scaffolds and platforms framed the action, with only one major visual anchor — the glowing red oven at center stage. The sliding barber chair had the audience in stitches, and I myself was nearly in tears from laughing so hard.

Josh Groban surprised me. In the upper register, his vibrato was light and flickering, but in the mid and lower ranges, his voice was dark, powerful, and resonant — far more so than I expected. During “Epiphany,” he took full command of the stage. I may have anticipated the lyrical tone of his solo albums, but instead he wielded the barber’s knife like a weapon and roared with a fully grounded baritone. That moment, for me, was my epiphany.

“Not While I’m Around” brought the show to a quiet, emotional pause. Ashford sat knitting as the number began — I almost laughed again — but the song itself was gentle and heartbreaking. I found myself wondering: could Mrs. Lovett have been a good woman under different circumstances? Sweeney kills for vengeance; she kills for pies — and for love. The motives are terrible, and yet the show gives us a glimpse of the tenderness she might have had.

Judge Turpin’s bass was appropriately weighty and controlled, but what made him compelling was the slyness he slipped into his authority — never cartoonish, just quietly unsettling. And Ashford — in one moment that’s burned into my memory — came downstairs with her trousers dropping and rotated herself across the floor like a clock hand at six o’clock, her belly the pivot point. Whether this was her invention or the director’s blocking, I can’t say — but I doubt anyone else could have pulled it off quite like her. It was absurd, shameless, and brilliant. Out of this world.

The ensemble may have been the strongest I’ve ever seen. Their dynamic range — male and female voices across the spectrum — created waves of tension and calm, fury and stillness. The music felt alive, volatile, theatrical in the truest sense.

The ending was cruel, as expected. But the reprise of the “Ballad of Sweeney Todd” by the full ensemble brought everything full circle. It was haunting and strangely satisfying.

At curtain call, Josh Groban shed tears. Annaleigh Ashford reached over and gently patted his shoulder, comforting him. That small gesture told me everything — they had given their all. Everyone had.

As I left the theater, still buzzing, I saw a small crowd gathered near the side entrance — the same door where the late-arriving cellist had entered earlier. My son was tempted to wait for Groban. I considered waiting for Ashford. But in the end, we didn’t. Somehow, I wanted to remember them not as stars at the stage door, but as the characters they brought so vividly to life.

I left the theater fulfilled, but part of me wanted to go back again — before Josh Groban and Annaleigh Ashford left the show. When I later heard that Aaron Tveit and Sutton Foster were taking over for a limited run, I felt the same pull. What a luxury it must be to live close to where it all happens. Seoul is not bad — not bad at all — but sometimes I wish I had a wormhole. One that could take me back and forth, so I wouldn’t have to choose.