Little Shop of Horrors (1986)
Little Shop of Horrors is based on the long-running off-Broadway musical of 1982 with music from Alan Menken and lyrics by Howard Ashman, Produced by David Geffen (who also produced this film), which itself was based on a movie, a then little-known Roger Corman from 1960 of the same name, featuring the screen debut of Jack Nicholson in a supporting role. It’s a loving send-up of not only that film, but also of two very popular genres of the 1950s-60s, the romantic musical and weird sci-fi alien invasion films.
A very likable Rick Moranis (Club Paradise, Brewster’s Millions) stars as the nerdy and shy flower shop assistant named Seymour Krelborn. The shop, smack dab in the middle of skid row, is struggling, at least until Seymour buys an eye-catching exotic plant from a Chinese street seller, which he places in the window in order to bring in more business. The plant, dubbed Audrey II in honor of Seymour’s crush on the ditsy local lady-friend named Audrey (Greene, who also appeared in that role in the original stage show off Broadway and in London), is a success, and business is booming. However, the plant begins to grow ill over time, and Seymour soon discovers that the only way to restore it back to health is to feed it fresh human blood. Unfortunately, the ever-growing Audrey II (a sentient being that learns to talk, voiced by Levi Stubbs pf the “Four Tops” fame) eventually needs much more than Seymour is able to provide from his own body, so a Faustian bargain emerges of continues fame and success in exchange for ample fresh blood.
Frank Oz (The Dark Crystal, In & Out) directs this outing, and given his Muppet pedigree, its an appropriate choice given that the film might live of die on how convincing the puppet work for Audrey II comes across. Though the subject matter runs quite dark, Oz manages to keep things fairly light and frothy most of the way, with up-tempo tunes and comedic character actors who know how to play their parts for the maintaining the silly tone underneath. Being from a stage play, there aren’t a great deal of changes of scenery, but Oz and company do a good job in trying to make the city feel more expansive than just a flower shop and a dental office. The dinginess of the street of skid row also makes for a good contrast with the scene that involves Audrey (the human woman) dreaming of “Somewhere That’s Green”, her ideal life with Seymour, living in idyllic suburbia full of Tupperware parties, a freshly mowed lawn, and watching innocuous fare on TV with the family.
Although the cast is full of comedic stars, the main enduring attraction of Little Shop of Horrors comes from the satirical musical numbers from Ashman and Menken, who cover a wide array of music styles, from Motown-style R&B to doo-wop to teen pop, albeit occasionally anachronistically in the case of the funkier Audrey II (the Oscar-nominated “Mean Green Mother from Outer Space”, a new Ashman/Menken song not originally in the stage musical that took five weeks to film, feels straight out of the ’70s — it would lose the Oscar to Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away”, from Top Gun). Some musicals use their songs to drive a mood or simply to entertain, but in this film, they propel the narrative, and deliver a good dose of the humor, making them just as critical to listen to as the traditional dialogue. Ashman and Menken would find even more success with Disney a few years later, writing songs for The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin.
Memorable scenes include the scene-stealing Steve Martin (The Lonely Guy) as abusive dentist Orin Scrivello, channeling Elvis for a number (called, “Dentist”, naturally) in which he performs all manner of sadistic acts on his patients in his dental office. Bill Murray (Ghostbusters) has great fun ad-libbing his comedic take on a masochist looking for Orin to hurt him, in the role that Jack Nicholson played in the Roger Corman original, but did not exist in the stage play. The use of the Supremes-esque soulful trio of singers who appear on the screen from time to time is not only good for keeping the dour story upbeat, but also serves in the ancient tradition of plays in using them as the chorus, the conscientious observers of the story. It’s commendable that the actors are cast for their comedic chops and screen presence more so than their vocal range, which is one of the differences between what one can do on the stage vs. the big screen.
Ellen Greene’s reprisal of her stage role was not what the producers originally wanted, cycling through ideas to bring in more well-known musical acts like Cyndi Lauper, Barbra Streisand and Madonna. Along these lines, the initially reluctant Frank Oz was also not the first choice for director, with Martin Scorsese, in what would be a Steven Spielberg produced effort, originally wanting to make it a 3D b-movie as a continued homage to the old movies of the 50s and 60s, and John Landis had been attached for a spell after that fell through.
Also striking is the production design of the film, especially in capturing the rich detail of the outdoor urban environs of downtown, done entirely on set within Pinewood Studios, utilizing seemingly every facet of the facility. However, it’s the main plant itself that merits the most amount of lavish praise, the Lyle Conway-designed Audrey II (Conway’s only such credit, astonishingly, for which he would receive an Oscar nod), who moves, shimmies, shakes, and talks with full freedom of movement in ways that will make you wonder with mouth agape at how it was all done so fluidly. It required several different models of various sizes, some requiring dozens of skilled technicians to control, done at slower speeds but pulled off convincingly when run in normal motion, and all of them are crafted with impeccable skill. As far as heavies in films, there really isn’t anything like Audrey II, making an already offbeat musical completely unique.
The theatrical version of the film features a much more upbeat ending than the bleak one appeared in the stage musical, but it wasn’t the original ending. The problem is that, unlike the stage play, in which a distant Seymour was a weak loser who committed some reprehensible acts for his own ends, viewers like and identify with Moranis in the role, seeing him in full close-up, and full of conflict, as the hero to root on. Preview audiences greatly disliked the one that was shot, at great expense, because it offered no upbeat resolution to the story or the characters that story had built upon. Fans of the play, and those who dislike tacked on happy endings, will likely be chagrined at the abrupt way the theatrical ending resolves, but there is not much doubt that more people prefer it than they do the one that Oz originally wanted to go with, and now that there is a Director’s Cut release, there is a choice.
With the happier ending, Little Shop of Horrors fared relatively well at the box office (raking in $38 million on a reported $25 million budget, with a repoted $5 million expended on the ending they didn’t use), lingering in the top ten at the US box office for nearly two months against a crowded holiday 1986 slate dominated by red hot Eddie Murphy’s The Golden Child, a popular feel-good film in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, and the surprising legs of Paul Hogan’s Crocodile Dundee. Word of mouth would have likely killed the film had they gone with the ending as intended, but that ending’s elusive nature made its reputation grow in the minds of the film’s fans, who distributed a black-and-white VHS-quality workprint footage of it around the internet before it was finally released in all its glory by Warner Bros. on home video in 2012. (Personal note: I showed my wife and daughter the Director’s Cut, their first time experiencing the film, and they hated where the film went. When I showed them the theatrically released ending, they said they preferred it much more).
As for me, regardless of ending, I’m a fan of the talent on board, and of the musical pieces, and either ending, but I do find Little Shop of Horrors to be a bit uneven in its overall tone, not really finding a good deal of the humor to be funny. I’m more interested in seeing the story as a metaphor for the overwhelming power of addiction, with Audrey II representing the need for Seymour to continue to feed that addition until he loses everything he holds dear. From that point of view, the original ending to the play, and of the movie Oz intended, works far better for that theme, even if it is overwhelmingly grim.
Regardless, at least you can experience the film both ways, and both are enjoyable on their own terms. Perhaps it works better for most audiences if experiencing the theatrical version, then watching the intended 23-minute finale from a historical curiosity perspective, rather than just the Director’s Cut alone, but it has its champions. Though the film is uneven in many spots, there’s enough ingenuity, quality camp, solid songs, fun performances, and great production work to give Little Shop of Horrors an easy recommendation for those looking for a zany, satirical, and sometimes surprisingly affecting, musical oddity.
Qwipster’s rating: B+
MPAA Rated: PG-13 for mature thematic material including comic horror violence, substance abuse, language and sex references
Running Time: 94 min.
Cast: Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, Vincent Gardenia, Steve Martin, Levi Stubbs (voice), Bill Murray, Tisha Campbell-Martin, John Candy, Christopher Guest, Jim Belushi, Paul Dooley (director’s cut)
Director: Frank Oz
Screenplay: Howard Ashman (based on his stage musical)