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We have already enthused, in our "On the Record" column, over Tim Burton's film version of what well may be Stephen Sondheim's finest, and certainly bloodiest, musical. Now comes the DVD of Sweeney Todd [Paramount]. The film was a mainstay of least year's "10 best" lists, and deservedly so; and aren't we — the theatre fans of Stephen Sondheim — thrilled to see him on all those "10 best" lists? Sweeney — as far as we are concerned — is near the top of the list of Broadway's best, after all.

What Mr. Burton and his associates have done is — well, precisely what people should do when translating a stage musical to the screen. They have adapted it, rather than filmed it. Burton, yes, has seen fit to cut a wide swath of that golden score; those that want can lament and wail, label him a dastardly "Tim Scissorhands," and work themselves into such a state that they'll miss out on the enjoyment of what is a superb, cinematic treat. If you don't mind gushers of blood, that is. Johnny Depp is not a stage-worthy Sweeney, but he is just dandy on film. (Put Len Cariou, George Hearn, Stokes Mitchell or Cerveris in this role and I don't think we'd see Sweeney on the screen.) Helena Bonham Carter, too, is a different Lovett than your favorite Lovett; but it is unprofitable to compare stage and screen versions, and stage and screen performances.

Keep in mind that this is only the third musical composed by Sondheim to have made it to the big screen. The first two were so bollixed up — A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and A Little Night Music — that they managed to make just about everyone involved look bad. There are PBS filmings of several Sondheim musicals, yes, and they make a remarkable record of the events in question; but there is a difference between translating a property to film, on the one hand, and setting up a few cameras and zooming in and out on the other. The movie "Sweeney Todd" looks like it is supposed to be a movie, and it is a fine one (and a visual treat as well). Paramount has offered us both a single and double DVD; the latter offers 13 bonuses, which — given the prominence of the film, the artists and the studio (Dreamworks) — are top of the line. So fans of Sondheim and Sweeney now have yet another slipcase to slip onto their shelves.

The sun will come out tomorrow, or so the song says. But what of the spotlight? And on that tomorrow, will there be a place in which you can sing that the sun will come out once more? These questions are examined, rather grippingly, by Julie Stevens and Gil Cates, Jr. in Life After Tomorrow [Arts Alliance America]. What happened to all those girls who appeared in the original and spinoff productions of Annie, anyway? Annie had six pals, otherwise known as The Orphans. Given the number of companies of Annie that trod the boards, and the growth spurts that biologically limited the girls' term of usability, there were an awful lot of child actors that went in and out of what was arguably the second-biggest hit of its decade (after A Chorus Line). And when I refer to an awful lot, I am not speaking of the mothers — although I suppose I could.

There you are, starring on Broadway or in major cities across the nation at the age of 11. (The orphans weren't starring but they were often treated as minor celebrities, especially in those cities where Annie came in like a whirlwind for a sold-out month or so.) Any actor can tell you of the lows that set in when you are not working; any star can tell you of the lows when you are no longer starring. But most actors, after closing, retain those traits that earned them the spotlight. The child actor, who is hired because of their size and their looks and the sound of their pre-teen voice, not only loses their job; they lose those abilities that got them cast in the first place. Those abilities that made them into celebrities, at least in the cases of the Girls Who Played Annie. Once they have hung up their red wig, how many people know or care who they were? Or are? And how do you think it feels when you go back to public school, floating anonymously in a sea of hundreds of kids without a chorus or a dresser or even an assistant stage manager to tell you when it's time to enter and smile?

Filmmaker Julie Stevens was one of those orphans. Musing on the question of what comes after tomorrow, and what doesn't come after tomorrow, she had the idea of interviewing a group of the girls to see just how common their experiences were. The results are fascinating, especially — I suppose — to people who are in or around the business. Only a small number of the girls are present, relatively speaking. The biggest catch would have been the original, Tony Award-nominated Annie, Andrea McArdle; she presumably declined to participate. In her place, though, is Kristen Vigard, who originated the role the summer before Broadway when the show was first performed at the Goodspeed Opera House in 1976. (She was very good, too, both as Annie and singing "Frank Mills" as a 14-year-old Crissy in the 1977 Broadway revival of Hair). More to the point, Stevens landed an extended interview with the only one of the Annies who went on to more fame after Annie than during — Sarah Jessica Parker, who offers some of the most insightful comments of the group. Also prominent amongst the participants are Allison Smith, another leader of the Broadway clan; Danielle Brisebois, who will remain ever memorable as the cutest and littlest orphan to anyone who saw the show early on; music director Peter Howard; stage manager Peter Lawrence; and composer Charles Strouse.

What do the girls talk about? A wide range of subjects, many of which are fascinating. Some of the girls-turned-women seem normal, others seem to be a little strange; one gets the impression that Stevens purposely kept out some of the sadder stories. But many of the girls share similar tales, with broken families — especially among the touring girls — in the forefront (with a residue of guilt). But see for yourself. This film is not about Annie, not at all. It's about life upon the wicked stage, circa 1977-1982, and "Life After Tomorrow" paints quite a picture thereof. Continued...