Philadelphia Weekly

Share this Story:

If you think the musical Little Shop of Horrors is nothing more than campy sci-fi nonsense, check out 11th Hour Theatre Company and Theatre Horizon’s surprisingly thoughtful co-production at the Prince Music Theater.

Based on B-movie mogul Roger Corman’s film, the story focuses on an introverted everyman named Seymour (Steve Pacek). Seymour works pushing a broom at Mushnik’s, a florist shop on Skid Row in a generic U.S. city.

Life isn’t good on Skid Row. A man rummages through a trashcan for scraps while another sleeps fitfully on a public bench. Inside the shop, the owner, Mushnik (a crotchety Paul McElwee), and Seymour glumly wait for customers who never come.

Salvation arrives in the form of a strange and interesting plant that Seymour purchased from a mysterious “Chinese man” for $1.98. No one can identify the plant’s genus. All Seymour knows is it’s a particularly finicky (not to mention voracious) eater, requiring human blood to survive. When Seymour places the exotic plant in the shop’s window, his fortunes suddenly change. Attracted by the unusual plant, customers flock to the store. Overnight, Seymour finds himself a horticultural celebrity and the toast of the garden-club circuit. However, his love life remains in the dumps. He has eyes only for the beautiful Audrey (Melinda Bass), but she’s devoted to a sadistic dentist who abuses her mercilessly.

Complementing Alan Menken’s retro- pop score and Howard Ashman’s witty lyrics, the cast is outstanding. Pacek superbly evokes Seymour’s earnestness, but his performance goes beyond the usual portrayal of Seymour to suggest his financial ambitions. The result is a more interesting hero. Instead of being a geek, Pacek’s Seymour is responsible for his own fate.

Bass brings a huge voice to the role of Audrey and it serves her well on the dreamy “Somewhere That’s Green.” However, her potent voice threatens to overpower the more controlled Pacek on the irresistible duet “Suddenly, Seymour.”

The ensemble provides strong support throughout. Carl Clemons-Hopkins is appropriately imposing as Audrey’s brutal boyfriend, and Candace Thomas, Alex Keiper and Laura Giknis are magnificent as a sassy group of neighborhood girls. Aided by Jenn Rose’s flashy choreography, the trio shines on a rendition of the title tune and the infectious “Downtown.” M.K. Hines is the expressive voice of the giant plant (designed by Aaron Cromie) and Craig Patrick O’Brien is responsible for the vegetation’s movement.

Part of Little Shop ’s charm is its 1950s sensibility (nicely realized in Lauren Perigard’s creative costumes), which director Megan Nicole O’Brien evokes but doesn’t exploit. The script alludes to ’50s icons but instead of wallowing in nostalgia, O’Brien’s production emphasizes the parallels between Seymour’s plight and current events: stuck on a dead-end street where unemployment is rampant and poverty is a way of life, Seymour is blinded by the lure of easy money. Horizon and 11th Hour transform Little Shop into a cautionary tale about the destructiveness of greed.

With a cast of nine, three musicians and a large singing plant, Little Shop isn’t a small show, yet O’Brien’s assured staging is effectively intimate. Performers emerge from and engage with the audience, giving us the sense that we are part of this downtrodden community, effectively represented in Adam Riggar’s realistic set. In this sharp production, Skid Row could well be present-day Main Street, USA.

Though the show is undeniably fun and entertaining, under O’Brien’s expert direction Little Shop is more than just parody. ■