Little Shop of HorrorsBig things start small. That's not just a comment on the plot of Little Shop of Horrors, which--for those who don't know--is about a potted plant from outer space which grows up into a gigantic monster, wreaking havoc everywhere its viney appendages squirm and root; no, it's also about the humble origins of what has become one of the stage's most beloved musicals. Originating as an off-Broadway musical, Little Shop of Horrors enchanted audiences with the underdog struggle of Seymour Krelborn (Rick Moranis), his low self-esteem holding him back from telling the girl of his dreams, Audrey (Ellen Greene), of his true feelings...until that fateful total eclipse of the sun...
|
|
To be fair, Little Shop of Horrors began its life on this planet as a movie, in a roundabout way; it was originally a horror movie by Roger Corman, made in 1960. And while many of the characters and overall plot are the same, Little Shop of Horrors (circa 1986) is an adaptation which is charming, touching, and yet also a horror story. Seymour is the perfect everyman, one who is poor, beaten down by his boss, the greedy Mr. Mushnik (Vincent Gardenia), and stuck going nowhere, like everyone else in Skid Row. It seems like a bit of dumb (or bad) luck that Seymour discovers the strange and unusual plant--which he christens the "Audrey II" (voiced by Levi Stubbs)...or is it? After all, Audrey II does develop into quite a mastermind, maneuvering events in such a way so that Seymour's life profits from its growth...although it often requires a sacrifice or two in the process. Audrey II: "the creature from outer space that's out to eat your face"...not a bad conquest for a sassy triffid that started out in a coffee can. Although it makes sense in the spirit of the theatrical origins of Little Shop of Horrors, the film generally avoids computer generated special effects or green screen. Audrey II is one of the best examples of the high-level, masterful puppetry of Jim Henson; small coincidence that director Frank Oz has a strong pedigree in that world--he was a colleague of Henson's, and is well known for lending his vocal talents to numerous Muppet characters, like Cookie Monster from Sesame Street to Yoda from Star Wars. The Skid Row of Little Shop of Horrors resembles a perfect cross between the poorest of slums downtown and an elaborate set; anything too far on one side or another of this tightrope balancing act would have diminished the experience. The music of Little Shop of Horrors is excellent, channeling the spirit of the late-50's/early-60's era motown/doo-wop sound, but still stylized for the musical stage. Songs like "Somewhere That's Green" speak not only of Audrey's own insecurities and desires to move out of a world she feels trapped within, but also speaks to others like her who have felt like they don't belong in the gutter, but can't keep afloat in a world that keeps them down. And it's probably impossible to have a story about a man-eating space plant without a touch of dark comedy; songs like "Dentist!" give us a good look into the sadistic motivations of Audrey's no-goodnik boyfriend, Orin Scrivello, D.D.S. (Steve Martin), a song which I'm sure is both loved and loathed by those in the dental profession.
Little Shop of Horrors was one of those movies I watched over and over as a kid, always making sure to rewind the VHS tape for the next viewing. It wasn't until many years later that I learned a terrible secret about one of my favorite childhood films--the ending had been changed. For those, like me, who had experienced the theatrical release from decades prior--and may have not been exposed to the play--we could not have known the terror in store for us when we discovered what fate truly awaited Seymour, Audrey, and the world. Simply put, the theatrical cut ends in such a way to fill us with a sense that all is right in the world, that love can conquer all, any ambiguities aside. The director's cut--for all the technical prowess--rips that away from you, and gives you a rampaging ending which could only be described as apocalyptic. So why the sudden change, especially in light of the pre-established ending from the stage performance. Frank Oz describes how when the original cut was shown to test audiences, their responses were overwhelmingly positive...up until a fateful turn which soured their experience. His assessment of the situation--one which was enforced by the studio refusing to allow him to keep the original ending--was that how you treat characters in a stage presentation and what happens to them in a movie is fundamentally different in the eyes of the audience. Now--for the record--I love the ending of the director's cut; it is actually a monumental achievement of puppetry and special effects, it belongs in the style of those 50's-era monster movies, and is an ending which is far more mature than the substitute. However, this is where that pesky, hyperbole-inducing knee-jerk reaction of nostalgia is bound to set in for audiences--like myself--who cherished the love of Seymour and Audrey, two crazy kids whose lives are better for their mutual affection. It is no exaggeration to say that watching the director's cut ending now is actually heartbreaking, more so because of the nostalgia of the original. So I won't take sides; I say that they are both equally valid endings, both have their merits and shortcomings--even if those shortcomings are purely subjective. If you've seen the theatrical release, see the director's cut; hold back the tears, sit jaw agape at the awe-inspiring conclusion, and if you need to, flip over to the theatrical ending to reassure yourself that everything's going to be alright--no one will judge.
Recommended for: Fans of a fun and endearing musical, with lots of foot-tapping musical numbers and great characters you really care about; for those who have a soft spot for B-movie scifi camp, adaptations from the stage, and outstanding puppetry.
Little Shop of Horrors was one of those movies I watched over and over as a kid, always making sure to rewind the VHS tape for the next viewing. It wasn't until many years later that I learned a terrible secret about one of my favorite childhood films--the ending had been changed. For those, like me, who had experienced the theatrical release from decades prior--and may have not been exposed to the play--we could not have known the terror in store for us when we discovered what fate truly awaited Seymour, Audrey, and the world. Simply put, the theatrical cut ends in such a way to fill us with a sense that all is right in the world, that love can conquer all, any ambiguities aside. The director's cut--for all the technical prowess--rips that away from you, and gives you a rampaging ending which could only be described as apocalyptic. So why the sudden change, especially in light of the pre-established ending from the stage performance. Frank Oz describes how when the original cut was shown to test audiences, their responses were overwhelmingly positive...up until a fateful turn which soured their experience. His assessment of the situation--one which was enforced by the studio refusing to allow him to keep the original ending--was that how you treat characters in a stage presentation and what happens to them in a movie is fundamentally different in the eyes of the audience. Now--for the record--I love the ending of the director's cut; it is actually a monumental achievement of puppetry and special effects, it belongs in the style of those 50's-era monster movies, and is an ending which is far more mature than the substitute. However, this is where that pesky, hyperbole-inducing knee-jerk reaction of nostalgia is bound to set in for audiences--like myself--who cherished the love of Seymour and Audrey, two crazy kids whose lives are better for their mutual affection. It is no exaggeration to say that watching the director's cut ending now is actually heartbreaking, more so because of the nostalgia of the original. So I won't take sides; I say that they are both equally valid endings, both have their merits and shortcomings--even if those shortcomings are purely subjective. If you've seen the theatrical release, see the director's cut; hold back the tears, sit jaw agape at the awe-inspiring conclusion, and if you need to, flip over to the theatrical ending to reassure yourself that everything's going to be alright--no one will judge.
Recommended for: Fans of a fun and endearing musical, with lots of foot-tapping musical numbers and great characters you really care about; for those who have a soft spot for B-movie scifi camp, adaptations from the stage, and outstanding puppetry.