REVIEW: MUSE’s “Little Shop of Horrors”
By Adam Torres
There’s never been any reticence to impose subliminal meanings on Little Shop of Horrors: it’s sometimes said to be an allegory highlighting anti-black sentiment in the United States, while some suggest that it represents greed and the oft-dangerous pursuit of capital. MUSE’s production of Little Shop of Horrors doesn’t grapple with these, but that isn’t to the show’s detriment: Rachel Simmons has directed a production of Little Shop of Horrors that is pure, unadulterated, and campy fun for both the cast and the audience.
Little Shop of Horrors follows Seymour (Fred Pryce), an assistant for Mr Mushnik (Michael Kaufmann) — an unsuccessful florist in New York’s downtown Skid Row. Seymour works alongside Audrey (Lali Gill), whom he clearly treasures. So thinly veiled is his adoration of Audrey that he names a strange and interesting plant after her: “Audrey II” (Kate O’Sullivan). Audrey II — a Venus fly trap-cum avocado — brings Seymour success and celebrity, but he quickly learns that Audrey II has a taste for human blood. Soon, drops of blood don’t quite cut it, so Orin Scrivello D.D.S. (Jasper Bruce) — Audrey’s abusive boyfriend — is Audrey II’s first victim. Before too long, Audrey II’s list of victims grows, and Audrey IIs America-wide begin to achieve domination.
Despite the strength of the music and the script, it is the cast who carry this production. Through impressive vocals, Lisa-Marie Long, Carmel Rodrigues, and Renae Goodman help narrate the show. Their raw musical output is remarkable: their runs are melodic and don’t feel overwrought. Kaufmann’s voice, too, packs a mighty punch: it’s operatic and he possesses an impressive range. Unsurprisingly, “Mushnik and Son” is an audience favourite, due in no small part to the mischievous chemistry between Kaufmann and the dorkily endearing Pryce. Meanwhile, Bruce’s portrayal of Orin is dichotomous: he is either Audrey’s boyfriend or the dentist, but never both. This is by no means a bad thing: he conveys the character with complexity. As Audrey’s boyfriend, he captures the violence intrinsic to the character, but to no greater extent than necessary. As the dentist, he cleverly (and successfully) creates an aura of sex appeal. Even on the verge of a laughing gas-induced death, Bruce manages to find time to rub his nipples in a way that can only be described as the intersection of sensuality and camp.
The libretto provides an equation for the perfect Audrey: a performer should channel — among others — Carol Channing and Marilyn Monroe, but minus “their education and feelings of self-worth”, plus an extra dollop of their “sweetest and most vulnerable” traits. By taking this equation as a starting point and not as a laundry list, Gill has managed to develop an extraordinary Audrey. Indeed, from the moment she waddled into the Skid Row florist to her untimely death at the hands (or, rather, the mouth) of her namesake, Audrey was a fully-realised character. This is clear in Gill’s vocal performances: even as she belts out a celebration of Audrey and Seymour’s new found love (“Suddenly Seymour”), she captures a timid New Yorker in every perfect note. Her deer-like eyes are vacant but incredulous, and they lend an innocence to Audrey. This innocence is why Gill’s performance of “Somewhere That’s Green” feels so very earnest, but also explains why she is able to sing “why am I feeling so depressed?” and elicit laughter rather than sympathy. Audrey is at the core of the musical’s few emotional valleys, and Gill exerts a delightful control over these moments: she ensures that — as brief as they are — the audience never wallows in them.
The cast thrives in the slightly quirky theatre. The theatre at PACT is wide, but the cast generally uses the space effectively. Rob Hartley’s set design is enthralling. Consisting chiefly of milk crates, it is decorated with flowers and plants (fortunately not of the Audrey II variety). While the set isn’t elaborate, Hartley has nevertheless managed to create a clear distinction between urban Skid Row and the increasingly successful florist.
Additionally, the three Audrey IIs used throughout the show are increasingly magnificent. Exceptional lighting design and tactfully employed smoke machines transform the killer plant from magnificent to terrifying.
At Friday night’s performance, temperamental microphones inhibited the show from reaching its full potential. At times, the microphones seemed to have minds of their own: at their own discretion, they crackled or faded out entirely. Unfortunately, the audience missed key context as a result. It also meant a few words were lost amongst the (brilliant) band. More often than not, the cast projected and enunciated well enough for this not to be problematic. Sound issues also left the audience glancing around the theatre trying to determine the source of the sound when O’Sullivan was singing. However, PACT is a notoriously difficult space in respect of sound design, so the MUSE team still deserves the highest commendation.
MUSE’s production of Little Shop of Horrors is imperfect. For a few reasons, this doesn’t matter. Firstly, it comes remarkably close to reaching its full potential. Secondly, Little Shop of Horrors is fundamentally a show that has always been a little rough around the edges; it shouldn’t be performed with clinical precision. But most importantly, it’d be nigh impossible to find a cast more vibrant, more joyful on stage, or more sincerely appreciative of the audience. That is infinitely more valuable than functional microphones.