#212: Little Shop of Horrors

Release Date: December 19th, 1986

Format: DVD

Written by: Howard Ashman

Directed by: Frank Oz

4 Stars

What a joy it is watching Little Shop of Horrors in 2025.

In the almost 40 years since its release, Hollywood has increasingly, and ominously, honed its technical abilities. CGI and digital photography have made moviemaking more accessible, which is good, but also more sterilized. It’s easier to make a movie now than ever before, and it will continue to get easier as time advances - and who knows what AI will do to the film industry and human filmmakers in the years to come? 

But since when does something being easy have anything to do with great art? More accessible, yes, but not greater. Greatness usually comes with difficulty and sacrifice. 

And as far as moviemaking, what could be more difficult than making a musical about an alien plant that eats people? 

Imagine the risk involved in trying to make that a good movie. Imagine the sacrifice, especially in a largely pre-CGI world. 

For one, you’d need world-class artists and mechanical engineers to build the plant. It would take months, if not years to accomplish. You’d also need groundbreaking puppeteers to bring it to life. 

As for the human performers, they’d need to be able to sing and act. They’d need to project dignity and yearning, despite the silly plot that encompasses them. They’d need to make us laugh, but also convey the pathos of heartbreak and poverty. 

And who will write such a silly movie? And the music! It just seems impossible. The writers would need to be able to do campy fun, but also real drama. They’d need to conjure up heartbreaking ballads right alongside rollicking rock ‘n’ roll, quiet love songs right alongside soaring soul. 

Don’t despair, because Little Shop of Horrors gets all of this. 

It’s a joy, brimming with human ingenuity and creativity.        

Director Frank Oz is at the helm, and what a crew of artists he got to collaborate with. Lyle Conway, who came up under Jim Henson’s tutelage, designs Audrey II, the man-eating plant the size of an SUV, and he brought many of Henson’s greatest puppeteers with him to animate the monster. During the film’s final musical number, Audrey II took 60 puppeteers working simultaneously to bring it to life. Not only has the plant’s appearance and effect not diminished over the last 40 years, it’s gotten even more impressive. While watching it perform, with the great Levi Stubbs from The Four Tops voicing and singing, you can’t help but wonder, “How did they do this?” 

Joining Audrey II is a lovely group of human performers. It’s hard to imagine this film with any other actors. Rick Moranis seems singularly suited for the lead role as Seymour Krelborn. It’s the best role of his lovable career. And as interesting as it is imagining Cydni Lauper in the female lead as Audrey (Lauper turned the role down), Ellen Greene is perfect. She’s funny and endearingly pathetic (and sings her poor little heart out). Supporting them both are the likes of Vincent Gardenia, Steve Martin, John Candy, and Bill Murray, not to mention our Greek chorus of street urchins, Tichina Arnold, Michelle Weeks, and Tisha Campbell. If you’re anything like me, you’ll find yourself stupidly smiling for most of the movie, watching all these talented performers pour their souls into a movie about a killer plant.

But the real stars, if we must choose, are the songwriting team of lyricist Howard Ashman and composer Alan Menken. Before they went on to write arguably the greatest songs in the Disney cannon - all those songs from The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin that you’ve been humming for the last thirty years - they wrote the stage adaptation for Little Shop of Horrors in the early ‘80s. Eleven of those songs made it to this big screen version. It’s hard for me to pick which one I like the most.

All of these people - the puppeteers and comedians and vocalists and musicians - come together to put on a big show just for you, a musical remake of a hokey Roger Corman B movie from 1960. Sounds difficult, right? 

It would take a pretty special movie to pull it off.