Little Shop of Horrors is a film adaptation of an
Off-Broadway musical adaptation of a grade “B” horror-comedy film from 1960
about a man-eating plant. It was directed by a person best known at the time
for playing Miss Piggy, Yoda, and Bert of Bert & Ernie. If this all sounds
like a mess, it serves as a reminder of how strange and unlikely the whole
enterprise of this film was upon its release. Perhaps it’s time for full
disclosure. I cannot stand most musicals, but I love this film and I have loved
it since I first saw it in the theater at the age of nine in the fall of 1986.
There’s just something wonderful about the chemistry of the lead cast, the
incredible selection of supporting actors, and the choice of director that
conjures a rewarding viewing experience with few equals in mainstream film of
the last few decades.
With strong
leads complemented by Second City and Saturday Night Live alumni
in cameos and walk-ons, this groups of players could be considered an all-star
cast. As Seymour, the flower shop clerk who discovers a strange new plant
species, Rick Moranis turns in the best performance of his career, elevating
the kind of dweeby character for which he almost become typecast into a
complicated and appealing underdog. Ellen Greene revisits the role of Audrey,
which she pioneered in the original Off-Broadway production, and establishes a
one of a kind leading lady and love interest. Audrey’s meek and insecure
speaking voice falls away as she begins to sing and Greene’s powerful and
passionate voice express everything the character is holding back and bottling
up. Levi Stubbs, lead singer of the Four Tops, provides the voice of Audrey II,
and in doing so contributes a key ingredient in creating one of the most
memorable movie monsters of the 1980’s. Stubbs’ voice, when speaking as well as
singing, spans an impressive dynamic range giving Audrey II an intensity,
dimension, and unpredictability that generates an unavoidable and irresistible
screen presence. Vincent Gardenia’s layered, lived-in weariness brings humanity
and depth to the role of shop owner Mr. Mushnik that could seem two-dimensional
in the hands of a lesser actor. Sporting a leather jacket and a black wig,
Steve Martin hands in one of his goofiest, most out-of-character, and most
disturbing performances as Orin Scrivello, the sadistic, motorcycle-riding
dentist and abusive boyfriend of Audrey.
In terms of
supporting characters, one of the most important elements of this film comes
not from one character, but from three. Acting as a kind of Greek chorus that
breaks the “fourth wall” and addresses the audience, Crystal, Ronette, and
Chiffon (whose names all derive from 1960’s girl groups) set the scene with
style while presiding over the action decked out in beautiful, era appropriate
costumes. In these roles, Tichina Arnold, Michelle Weeks, and Tisha Campbell
supply the film’s smart, energetic pacing.
The cameos
and walk-ons I mentioned earlier add to the film’s irreverent, clever tone by
giving these comic talents opportunities to have fun with the story’s setting.
With Christopher Guest as the enthusiastic, vapid first customer to see Audrey
II, John Candy as the hokey morning radio DJ who brings Seymour and Audrey II
onto his show, and James Belushi as the pushy franchise salesman eager to sell
little Audrey II plants across the country, these characters round out the
film’s world. Watching seasoned comedy veterans turn in these performances, you
get the feeling that each of them is sending up the kinds of adults they grew
up around in the early in 1960’s. Bill Murray’s inspired performance as the
masochistic dental patient stands apart from these other bit parts and nearly
threatens to steal the show, but ultimately builds on the film’s delightfully
twisted spirit.
This was
Frank Oz’s third directing job and his first apart from Jim Henson and the
Muppets. Little Shop of Horrors makes extensive use of puppets but no
one would mistake Audrey II, the audacious carnivorous plant from the far
reaches of space, for a resident of Sesame Street. Oz’s background in theater
and film production with the Muppets serves him well as he fabricates the
fantastic, terrifying, and multi-faceted world in which these characters live,
struggle, sing, and face death.
Admittedly,
this film balances many distinct pieces and any one of them could have easily
tipped the whole project toward disaster. Little Shop of Horrors’
disparate elements combine to make a final product that works far better than
many other musical theater adaptations of the last thirty years. Like all of
the best examples of Off-Broadway cult phenomena, Little Shop of Horrors
creates an exciting, fun, and perverse viewing experience that speaks to the
outsider in all of us.
- John Parsell
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