Seymour is a down-on-his-luck florist with a crush on his co-worker Audrey. When he discovers a mysterious – and voracious – plant, suddenly Seymour and Audrey are thrust into an epic battle that will determine the fate of the entire human race. Little Shop of Horrors made its highly-anticipated return home to Off-Broadway, in an intimate new production directed by Michael Mayer that offers an unprecedented opportunity to get close — maybe too close — to an incredible plant with an insatiable appetite.
Yet against expectation, Mayer's interpretation, staged in a 270-seat theater, summons the shivery elation I felt seeing "Shop" at the East Village's Orpheum nearly four decades earlier. It restores the show to its original scale and sensibility, reminding us of the special potency of grisly things that come in small, impeccably wrapped packages. It's not an exact facsimile of the 1982 production, which was directed by Ashman. Working with an ace design team, Mayer heightens the show's classic pulp elements, its aura of low-rent noir splashed with flecks of blood-red.
Mayer's staging makes some very smart choices for the moment. In essence, he downplays the show's satirical soul in favor of its baked-in truths. Especially when it comes to Blanchard's truly stunning Audrey, a performance far from Ellen Greene and a piece of acting willing to embrace the cause of Audrey's chronic lack of self-esteem and depict it, especially during the iconic "Somewhere That's Green" number, with total seriousness.
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