The production, done last year in London to great acclaim, opened Thursday at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre with Michael Cerveris as the Demon Barber of Fleet Street and Patti LuPone as Mrs. Lovett, his more-than-willing accomplice in dispatching victims by means of very close shaves.

This is a singular "Sweeney," a delightfully idiosyncratic interpretation that, thankfully, is more a rethinking than a reproduction. Directed and designed by John Doyle, this compact adaptation of the show is done with only 10 actors (the original had more than two dozen) who also double as the show's musicians. It challenges memories of that 1979 production by inviting theatergoers to re-examine the show's book and score on entirely different terms.

Doyle's take on the show strips Wheeler's story to a directness that underlines the terror of the tale, set in 19th century London. It's genuinely creepy. Musically, Sondheim's songs are delivered in such artful simplicity that they sound remarkably fresh and clear, thanks to Sarah Travis' new, lean orchestrations.

And another level of enjoyment exists, too, watching the actors negotiate various instruments - with surprising success.

There have been small versions of "Sweeney Todd" before, particularly an appropriately nicknamed "Teeny Todd" directed on Broadway by Susan H. Schulman in 1989. Most recent revivals have, more or less, followed the general outlines of Harold Prince's masterful staging of the first production more than 25 years ago.

As Sweeney, Cerveris is younger than most of the others who have played the role. Yet what the actor lacks in weight and age, he makes up for in passion. There is a scary, cadaverous physicality to his performance, and he sings the part with ferocity.

Those expecting a star turn from LuPone, Broadway's original Evita, will be disappointed. She blends in seamlessly with the rest of the ensemble. To be sure, LuPone gets her laughs - and more - as the voracious, love-starved woman who bakes Todd's dispatched customers into pies. The actress, wearing what looks like a discombobulated Louise Brooks bob, also plays a mean tuba and gives the triangle a workout.

Those instruments are an important part of the action, and other members of the cast are accomplished musicians and singers. Particularly effective are Benjamin Magnuson and Lauren Molina, who portray the young lovers, Anthony and Johanna. Both play the cello and, surprisingly, they find humor in the desperate romance between the two characters.

Manoel Felciano stands out as the sweetly sung Tobias, Mrs. Lovett's troubled young assistant, and there are equally fine performances from Mark Jacoby as the evil, lascivious Judge Turpin; Donna Lynne Champlin, who plays Pirelli, Todd's barber competition; Alexander Gemignani as the doomed Beadle; Diana Mimarzio as the beggar woman; and John Arbo, a veteran bass player in the pit of many Broadway musicals, as the supervisor of an insane asylum.

There is no literal blood-spurting in Doyle's stylized approach to the violence. But he gets the same grisly effect with artfully poured buckets of blood and the victims wearing blood-splattered white coats as they continue to play instruments and sing as part of the chorus.

Re-imagining Sondheim is not an easy task, but when the transformation works, it's a chance to see the master in a whole different light. Director Peter Hinton did it last summer in a dark, brooding "Into the Woods" at Canada's Stratford Festival that made Grimm's fairy tales grimmer than usual.

Doyle's intimate, disturbing take on "Sweeney Todd" may condense Wheeler's book and slenderize the richness of Sondheim's melodies, but it doesn't diminish the musical's power. This deconstructed "Sweeney Todd" still retains its ability to shock and to soar.