It feels like a natural progression for someone to stumble into Little Shop Of Horrors, almost an inevitability. You can start your youth on Sesame Street, advance to the antics of the Muppets, and then be plopped in front of Audrey II. The infectious music and charm of Frank Oz’s 1986 film– adapted from a musical, which was adapted from a Roger Corman movie— is stocked with top tier talent on all fronts. It was only recently that I found out there is a director’s cut of the film, which I encourage anyone interested to seek out. It’s bananas, but the official release, of course, is what we all remember and hum along when one waltz down a busy street with peeping into flower shops. Just me? Surely not.
Oz’s time with the Jim Henson company proved beneficial in numerous ways. From the beginning, Oz respects the stage by ensuring all the sets are beautifully constructed. The bad side of town in which Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, and Vincent Gardenia spend their time is hilariously evil. Its hyperbolic view of city life, either being given the golden spoon or short end of the stick with no in-between, is memorable. The alleyways that hide Jim Belushi or Steve Martin’s night job of being of a fucking prick are plastered with graffiti and trash. This is to say it’s the perfect back drop for Michelle Weeks and her trio to burst out into song with wonderful songs. When Oz opens up to the corny science fiction of yesteryear narration, it not only puts a giant grin on my face, but it is followed up by the prologue song that gives the audience an accurate read of what to expect.
The sets and costumes alone could hold this all up, but we all know why we come back to this musical: we want to see that plant! Levi Stubbs ruins anyone else’s performances. They might be great, but they’re not Stubbs putting his whole soul and heart into these songs. Audrey II is a visual wonder. Almost 30 years later, the puppetwork is some of the finest you can find anywhere. My attention shifts from those gargantuan lips and tongue of Audrey II to all the vines eating up the decor of Mr. Mushnik’s flower shop. The little buds that sing the higher notes are adorable, and I still think the big shock of the ending is a visual delight.
Goofy, musical schlock is what I always envision Rick Moranis in no matter what. Though I love him in Ghostbusters and other films, my mind drifts to this performance. He has so much chemistry with all the actors he interacts with, but especially Ellen Greene. Say what you will about Greene (and by that, I mean, keep any of your negativity to yourself), but these two were born to play Seymour and Audrey. Little Shop Of Horrors demands dorks in love, and these two kill it. “Suddenly Seymour” is one of life’s greatest joys, second only to “Somewhere That’s Green,” the latter of which has a garishly colorful set. The dollhouse and crazy green lawn make my heart swell each time because I live for these kinds of ideas fully realized with such precision Oz and company manage.
Little Shop Of Horrors is undoubtedly one of the best of the ’80s. 1986 alone gave audience astounding works like Blue Velvet and Big Trouble In Little China; some higher power thought it a fine time to also drop a movie musical that is still hard to top all these years later. Its wicked charm, goofs, love, and imagination is a treasure that many still cling to. It’s also a piece of work that has one or two moments that people connect with even before watching the film or seeing it on stage. Audrey II is as iconic as Darth Vader, “Suddenly Seymour” leaves anything from Annie in the dust, and not one person in this world dislikes Rick Moranis. I hope he’s well.
Oh, and Christopher Guest’s one scene is perfect, just like everything he does. I couldn’t publish this without mentioning him once.
Little Shop of Horrors
1986
dir. Frank Oz
94 min.
Screening Tuesday, 10/10, 7:00pm @ Coolidge Corner Theatre
Director Frank Oz in person!
