When director Jim Wren was asked to helm Sweeney Todd at Texas Tech University, the decision came easily. After nearly a decade of working with the university through the WildWind Performance Lab, he already knew the kind of creative environment he was stepping into.

“I’ve always had a wonderful experience working with the folks here,” Wren says. “And combining that with the opportunity to direct a show like Sweeney Todd—it was an easy decision.”

That sense of familiarity may have made the “yes” simple, but the production itself is anything but. Stephen Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd is a notoriously complex piece, blending horror, humor, and emotional depth into a single theatrical experience. For Wren, the challenge isn’t about imposing a bold, overarching concept; it’s about letting the world emerge organically.

“I’m not necessarily a ‘high concept’ guy,” he explains. “There’s probably not one single access point for me.”

Instead, Wren builds the production through layers of inspiration. He references the visceral theatricality of the Théâtre du Grand-Guignol, known for its graphic horror in late 19th-century Paris, alongside what he describes as a “demented vaudeville.” There’s even a touch of graphic novel influence shaping the visual and tonal landscape.

But perhaps his guiding philosophy is best summarized with a piece of advice he once shared with a longtime collaborator:

“You never want to invite Art to your production—but you hope he shows up.”

It’s a deceptively simple idea. Rather than forcing meaning or aesthetic, Wren prioritizes collaboration, allowing the production’s identity to take shape through the contributions of the entire creative team.

That collaborative spirit is especially vital in this production, which features a double cast—a structure introduced as part of a partnership between the School of Music and the School of Theatre and Dance. While it brings logistical challenges, it also opens new creative possibilities.

“It’s fantastic to have multiple points of view in the room,” Wren says. “It keeps us all on our toes.”

With two casts interpreting the same roles, the rehearsal room becomes a space of constant variation. Wren isn’t necessarily surprised by the differences that emerge, but he is deeply interested in them. Each actor uncovers new facets of character, enriching the overall production.

As rehearsals progress, Wren measures success not in singular breakthrough moments, but in something quieter and more cumulative.

“I know things are moving in the right direction as I see the cast growing in confidence and boldness,” he says. “That really pleases me.”

That growth is no small feat. Sweeney Todd demands a great deal from its performers—vocally, physically, and emotionally. For Wren, meeting that challenge isn’t about perfection; it’s about presence.

“The way I look at someone ‘rising to the challenge’ is the commitment to come every night with openness and desire,” he explains. “When frustration takes over, you’re making a choice to disengage. This cast hasn’t done that. They continue to layer, explore, and create.”

It’s that spirit of exploration that Wren is most excited for audiences to experience. Not a single moment or standout scene, but the fully realized world that the company has built together.

And when the curtain falls, what does he hope lingers?

“The incredible creativity of the students, faculty, and staff across the entire production team.”

In a show filled with darkness, wit, and spectacle, it’s ultimately that collective artistry—the quiet arrival of “Art,” unforced and unexpected—that Wren hopes will leave the deepest impression.