Little Shop of Horrors

In brief:

This is a must for the ‘young at heart.’ Ok, if you have recently purchased a Venus Fly Trap plant, don’t go to this show. Indeed, if you have a trip to the dentist planned, then it is best avoided. But for the rest of us, Masquerade Malta and Teatru Manoel have created a Little Shop of Horrors that is enormous fun. It is bright, colourful, knowingly silly, and packed with catchy tunes that keep younger audiences grinning even when the story turns deliciously macabre. The production treats Howard Ashman and Alan Menken’s cult musical not as a solemn horror piece but as a candy-coloured monster movie with a wicked sense of humour.

In detail:

From the opening number, the show bursts with personality. Skid Row may be meant to be grimy, but this staging makes it vivid and playful: bold costumes, lively movement, expressive lighting and sharp comic timing transform the flower shop into a place youngsters can enjoy even as the plot becomes increasingly outrageous. The score’s mixture of doo-wop, rock and roll, Motown-inspired harmonies and Broadway wit gives the evening broad appeal, and the company clearly relishes every musical flourish.

I wonder if the original inspiration for all this comes from the gruesome sight of Katharine Hepburn feeding live flies to her Venus Fly Trap plant in Suddenly Last Summer. As we suffer a bad fly season this October, many Maltesers may sympathise, but a trip to this show will put you off.

Otherwise, the story began with Roger Corman’s famously quick, low-budget 1960 film, written by Charles Griffith, in which a timid flower-shop worker discovers a strange plant with an appetite for human blood. The stage version, with music by Alan Menken and lyrics by Howard Ashman, turned that B-movie premise into a loving spoof of horror films, science-fiction pictures and indeed 1960s popular culture. It went on to become a major off-Broadway and West End success, admired for its witty narration and Audrey II, one of musical theatre’s most memorable puppet characters. The 1986 film adaptation introduced a happier conclusion after early audiences reacted poorly to the stage musical’s dark ending; later releases, and this version, have restored the original cautionary finale.

The setting is Skid Row, where life’s losers congregate. Although the $100 a customer pays for a bouquet of flowers seems to get him only the kind of tiny bunch you see in Sliema at the smartest florist, not the enormous truckload you would have bought in 1960s Skid Row.

Luigi Buhagiar’s Seymour is charmingly awkward. No doubt chosen for his good looks, hidden behind a pair of Dennis Neilsen glasses, he plays a shy florist with modest dreams, and a crush he can barely confess. He has a conscience that becomes increasingly strained by a very persuasive plant. He gives Seymour enough sweetness for the audience to care about him, while finding the humour in his mounting panic as Audrey II’s demands grow more extreme. “Feed me Seymour” is the scary repeated refrain.

Michela Agius is a standout as Audrey. Her portrayal is sweet, funny and touching, but her greatest asset is her voice: powerful, assured and capable of genuine emotional force. She makes Audrey more than a comic figure in distress, bringing longing and dignity to the role, and she moves confidently between broad comedy and heartfelt balladry. Together, Buhagiar and Agius provide the show’s emotional heart: beneath the man-eating-plant nonsense, this is a small love story between two people hoping for a better life.

Francesco Nicodeme’s Orin Scrivello is a superb comic villain. As Audrey’s cruel, leather-clad dentist, he turns menace into pure theatrical relish, making the character swaggering, ridiculous and gloriously exaggerated. His performance produces some of the evening’s biggest laughs, and he understands exactly how far to push the sadism before it becomes cartoonish fun rather than genuinely unsettling.

Max Dingli gives Mr Mushnik a dry, irritable authority, while Karl Bartolo makes Audrey II a true scene-stealer. The plant is not simply a special effect: Bartolo gives it personality, menace and impeccable timing, making its musical numbers major highlights. Rachel Fabri, Natassja Chapman and Abigail Zarb, as Crystal, Chiffon and Ronette, are the show’s stylish commentary trio. Their energy is irresistible, and they guide the audience through Seymour’s escalating disasters with flair.

Anthony Bezzina directs with a light touch and evident affection for the material, keeping the action quick, funny and visually lively. Kris Spiteri’s musical leadership gives the score plenty of punch, while Valerie Burke’s choreography adds bounce without slowing the story. Simona Mamo’s costumes reinforce the bright, comic-book atmosphere, and Sergio Costa’s sound work ensures both the singers and the plant’s larger-than-life voice carry well through the historic theatre.

Although Teatru Manoel advises the production for ages 13 and above, children who enjoy playful spooky stories are likely to adore its colourful monster, broad jokes and big songs. Parents should be aware that the humour involves blood, death and a nasty dentist with a taste for sadomasochism. But thankfully the treatment is so stylised and theatrical that it feels closer to a fun haunted house than real horror.

This is a joyful, polished and thoroughly entertaining Little Shop of Horrors: a production with a powerful Audrey, a hilarious dentist, a charismatic plant, and enough colour and comedy to make even Skid Row feel like a celebration.