Little Shop of Horrors

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Cute, somewhat cuddly, coy, a little wilted around the edges wins the heart of Seymour (Brandon Dill), which is just exactly what the soon-to-be-revealed monster wants to transpire.

Joanie Brosseau-Beyette as Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors at Boulder’s Dinner Theatre. Photo by Samuel Trojanovich

Boulder’s Dinner Theatre offers one of the most exciting, cohesive, exhilarating productions of Little Show of Horrors I have ever seen, and I have seen some great productions. Something about BDT, something about the highly talented, energetic cast, something about the imagination, the attention to details by actors who are only on stage a few minutes at a time throws this production over the top.

Little Shop of Horrors is more fun than a Halloween junket ride through five haunted houses. Directed by Michael J. Duran, BDT’s Artistic/Director/Producer, choreographed by Alicia Dunfee, with musical direction by Neal Dunfee, Little Shop takes off on a high-spirited excursion and doesn’t quit until the house lights come up. Even then the energy continues to fly around the theatre.

Every once in a while a surge runs through our society with the idea of creatures from outer space invading earth. Some are just inquisitive, others superior in intelligence, some want to learn, others want to possess with iron fist domination. In the 1960’s Roger Corman produced the film, Little Shop of Horrors with outer space creatures taking the form of plants with a comedic streak running down its back intent on domination.

With Howard Ashman writing the Book and lyrics, and Alan Menken the music, Little Shop took a diminutive bow on Off-Broadway in 1982. Revived in 2003, Little Shop hit Broadway in 2003, and has been thrilling audiences ever since.

Seymour Krelbourn is exactly the type of person the monstrous invaders are after. Vulnerable, bumbling, inept, stumbling over words and pots with a heart as big as all outdoors. Dill brings Seymour alive, not as a copy of someone else, carved not just from words on a script, making him distinctly his own.

Working as an assistant to Mushnik (Wayne Kennedy) in his skid row flower shop, Seymour transfers his lovesick jellied Being for Audrey, (Joanie Brosseau-Beyette). With the plant he can pour out his love and compassion, naming her Audrey II, the way he could not, dare not reveal to Audrey. Besides, she already belongs to someone else, a bike riding, menacing dominating bully of a dentist, Dr. Orin, given a knockout characterization by A. K. Klimpke. He builds the Klimpke humor into Orin, and at the same time streaks him as a menacing womanizing abuser. Maybe the invasion from outer space made a mistake zeroing in on dentists. Not too far fetched, Dr. Orin could well be mistaken for a man-eating plant. OK, maybe not. Seymour, of course, is afraid of Orin, which is exactly the way Orin wants it to be.

Brosseau-Beyette carves and curves Audrey into the flibberty gibbet dumb blond, hiding lots of smarts, who wants to be loved and appreciated, but doesn’t think she deserves anything or anyone good in her life.

Kennedy slips into and old man fatherly mode as Mushnik, taking Seymour under his wing, feeling the pangs of skid row, deciding the shop has to close immediately for lack of customers. Seymour through his awkward stance sees the coy fascinating plant as a ray of hope. Audrey II hides her secret well until she snares Seymour in a vulnerable moment alone, with a cut finger. Blood she wants, human blood. Blood gives her strength, allowing her to grow, becoming healthy. Grow she does into a blood sucking, manipulative, demanding, foul-mouthed, R&B singing monster. Seymour trapped under impossible demands, clings to Audrey II’s promise she will give him his heart’s desire.

Robert Johnson supplies the voice of Audrey II, knocking out the rafters with his huge, glorious voice. When she commands her demands, Seymour responds, particularly with the songs Somewhere That’s Green and Feed Me. Brian Jackson and Scott Beyette play an integral role bringing Audrey to live. Not seen on stage, they manipulate the bigger than life-sized puppet into bigger than life-sized reality. Cory Gilstrap of The Puppet Palace supplies Audrey II in all her glorious stages of growth. She demands center stage, and she gets center stage.

Chiffon, Crystal, and Ronnette, a chorus for the musical, appear disguised as skid row bumpkins with animated characterizations and thrilling voices. Lexi Strickland, Claire Grout, and Emily McComber hide behind the choral activity, adding a particular special touch to the over all story with the Prologue, Little Shop of Horrors, Da-Doo, and Don’t It Go To Show You Never Know along with Mushnik and Seymour.

Amy Campion and Duran’s set design charms the socks off the stage, Linda Morken’s costume design precisely depicts exactly what one would expect these motley characters would wear.

Funny, silly, hysterical as Little Shop of Horrors is meant to be, there are wonderful poignant moments between Seymour and Audrey, especially during Audrey’s song Somewhere That’s Green, and Audrey and Seymour’s plaintiff Call Back In The Morning and Suddenly, Seymour.

Once again, BDT proves their Broadway quality treating Little Shop of Horrors as though it has never before been staged with a highly talented cast that is having more fun than a “Bowl of Monkeys”, allowing that aspect to show.

Choreographer Dunfee, not wanting to have the show end where it normally does, after Audrey II successfully manages to eat everyone, provides an enchanting ending in dance and rousing song by the entire cast. At this point, the audience doesn’t want the house lights to come up. It’s just too much fun.

BDT’s Little Shop of Horrors doesn’t want to be missed under any circumstances because it’s sheer total unadulterated fun, because of the magical expertise of the cast, because the music keeps the toes tapping, because you’ll never see a better production of Little Shop anywhere,

For $5.00 you can get your picture taken with the full-grown Audrey II after the show. Just don’t stand too close.