Audrey II is back, and the talking topiary is as primed for conquest as ever.
That is to say, Little Shop of Horrors has returned to a New York stage, and this new production is a delightful reminder of just how perfectly constructed the 1982 mock-horror musical is, how charming and weird and funny and sweet.
At a time when the Broadway musical seems to have been colonized by gargantuan, self-serious screen-to-stage adaptations—“Overblown,” to the tune of “Let It Go,” is the new Forbidden Broadway’s take on Frozen and its ilk—Little Shop remains a small-scale testament to just how successful some of those transitions can be. Michael Mayer’s staging, at the Westside Theatre, the Hell’s Kitchen off-Broadway house best known for the kinds of shows that play best to Wednesday matinee crowds, is true to the show’s (voracious) roots off-Broadway in the East Village. This lo-fi production of a show now so often encountered in high schools and community productions wonderfully illustrates the magic that can be made with a small cast, a great score, and ravenous puppet.
[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★★★★ review here.]
You remember the story: Seymour works in a failing flower market on Skid Row, where he pines for his coworker Audrey and happens across an unusual plant that he thinks will gain enough attention to bring the shop back to thriving business. It does, and along the way Seymour becomes a minor celebrity and wins Audrey’s heart, while at the same time feeding the talking, singing, frankly quite demanding plant the human flesh that it craves. In the end, the plant devours everyone, and the show closes with a jaunty number warning us all of the perils of selling your soul for fortune and fame. It’s based on a Roger Corman B-movie from 1960, and it’s got a doo-wop-y, earworm-y score by a pre-Disney Alan Menken and Howard Ashman. (Ashman also wrote the book, based on the Corman screenplay by Charles Griffith.)
Of course, this lo-fi production has the benefit of top-tier performers. When this new Little Shop was announced, there was some theater-Twitter consternation about the cast. Hunky Jonathan Groff plays nebbishy Seymour, and thus the conversation was about the Hot Seymour problem. (Jake Gyllenhaal portrayed the forlorn flower-seller in the previous New York version, a triumphant Encores! Off Center production co-starring the original Audrey, Ellen Greene, a few years back.) Groff wears glasses here and flat hair; his costumes fit poorly and he never quite seems to stand up straight. He also seems somewhat lumpier than usual, whether through padding or layers or time away from Equinox I don’t know. He’s also got ace comic timing, a lovely singing voice, and two Tony nominations; he is, hotness notwithstanding, a superlative Seymour.
Tammy Blanchard, also a two-time Tony nominee, is his Audrey, the naive, noir bombshell. A note from Ashman at the front of the script cautions that because the show itself has its tongue so firmly in cheek that the actors in it should resist the urge to do the same and instead “play with simplicity, honesty, and sweetness.” Blanchard follows that instruction flawlessly. Christian Borle, on the other hand, disregards it, and profitably. He plays Orin, the sadistic dentist, and a range of other walk-on characters, from corner drunk to impressed passer-by to sleazy William Morris agent. He gives each one his own brand of manic glee. Tom Alan Robbins is an avuncular Mushnik, the flower shop owner, Ari Groover, Salome Smith, and Joy Woods are smoothly charming as the backup chorus “urchins,” who harmonize and shimmy like Motown’s best, tunefully taking care of exposition.
That the three dancers are named Ronnette, Crystal, and Chiffon—that is, that their names are borrowed from three 1950s girl groups—speaks to the wit of Ashman’s script and lyrics. (That their exposition is often difficult to decipher speaks to the one big problem with this production, a flaw in either music direction or sound design or both.)
Mayer’s direction provides a Broadway-caliber gloss to this proudly off-Broadway production, making everything seem smooth and effortless without every making it too big or polished. Julian Crouch’s set design is pitched at that same level, the best possible version of something not too fancy, and Ellenore Scott’s choreography accomplishes the same effect. Audrey II, designed here by Nicholas Mahon and operated by Monkey Boys Productions, is as cutely grotesque as ever. (This reviewer confesses to jumping with fright in his seat when the plant makes one attack.)
Ultimately, as nostalgic as we are for Little Shop and its nostalgia, the whole thing is a grotesque, gothic story, if one played for laughs. That’s another way that it’s different from today’s bigger-is-better movie adaptations: Little Shop of Horrorshas a profoundly unhappy ending, if one played with pep. That sad-happy complexity is what makes Little Shop a little thing that packs a big punch. And it’s something you won’t see in aggressively happy successors.
Little Shop of Horrors opened October 17, 2019, at the Westside Theatre and runs through January 19, 2020. Tickets and information: littleshopnyc.com
