Book and Lyrics by Howard Ashman

Music by Alan Menken

Directed by Tom Beazley and Amy Stinton

Tickets from £9.00

Following a rousingly successful Jesus Christ Superstar, one which dismantled the boundaries of casting restrictions, Edinburgh University Savoy Opera Group returns to Church Hill Theatre with another well-loved musical, substituting apostles and silver for dentists and greenery. Running until January 27th, Howard Ashman and Alan Menken’s Little Shop of Horror stage musical, adapted by Frank Oz for cinema in 1986, offers some exceptionally catchy tunes, unique characters, and plenty of chlorophyll.

This is musical theatre’s ultimate romantic bloodbath: where the charming crushes and infatuations of Seymour Krelborn, a meek and dejected floral assistant, find a perverted way to boost their confidence after successfully cultivating a new plant species – Audrey II. With the scientific community knocking at the door, and cash flowing through the florist’s tills, Seymour works up the courage to declare his feelings for the plant’s moniker- the original Audrey. But while the pair find a blossoming adoration and strength in one another, this budding romance lives in the shadow of a dense, and thorny flora – one with a taste for more than sunlight and water.

Holding the show together as a de-facto protagonist, Conor O’Cuinn, in the politest of ways, is the perfect schmuck as Seymour – out of luck, out of love, but oh so perfectly cast. Quaint, but with a steady evolution as Seymour begins to take drastic actions to secure his desires, O’Cuinn is just as anxious as Rick Moranis’ legendary performance but brings tighter vocals and a slightly darker edge to the choices Seymour makes. And it’s not tough to see why they’re pushed to the limits under Hunter King’s Mr Kushnik, owner of the florists and a surrogate father-figure for Seymour. Playful, with plenty of comedy and fun movement direction between the two, Little Shop of Horrors hits the jovial beats quite quickly with Tom Beazley and Amy Stinton’s lively direction.  

Though with a few trembling leaves through the first act (likely only opening night jitters), where some roles could push the envelope of either their comedic presence or outlandish antics, the second proves itself to be a masterful play in leaning into the stories grim and nasty nature, all served with a twisted-smile and some killer vocals and characterisation from Thaddeus Buttrey as Audrey II, following some creative use of puppetry and colour to build the newly discovered creature out. Buttrey dials the craven hunger all the way past breaking, relishing in a much-needed blood-thirsty and toying with the emotions of those surrounding them, showcasing just how dark Little Shop can turn. Leaving a distinct impression vocally any scene with Buttrey is lifted with their bass tones, suave and R&B-like, making even this ravenous monster something to fall for.

The counter to this playful villainous romp is Allison Lavercombe’s Audrey, the plant’s namesake and Seymour’s co-worker and crush. For contemporary audiences, Audrey shifts from the musical’s more comedic and two-dimensional role, now performed here as an intelligent woman trapped within a cycle of abuse, harrowingly resonating with audiences. To shift the light-heartedness of the production’s often comedic nature into a more serious one comes over as the right, clever choices are demonstrated in Lavercombe’s strong voice and natural presence, and Beazley and Stinton’s direction.

Through their initial and closing reprise of Somewhere That’s Green, Audrey’s acceptance that life was never going to go her way is communicated in Lavercombe’s performance. And for as contemporary, clever, and individual as this incarnation of the role is – their fate remains the same, but now with added gravitas to the part, hitting with a more authentic and far less comedic note. It’s handled by Lavercombe and the team with insight, their chemistry with O’Cuinn certainly hitting the companionship mark, steadily growing into a more romantic notion. Their tension with Audrey’s initial boyfriend, Dentist Orin, hits harder thanks to a role which Nash Nørgaard Morton contorts from bad-boy plaque fighter to a far more concerning reflection of gaslighting and dominant control, amplifying our connection to Lavercombe’s strong performance.

There are some strains vocally early into the production, though likewise with the pacing come the second act there’s a tighter control of the musical direction. The band perform admirably, capturing the bounce and rhythm with Menken’s score, and marvellously rising above the venue’s known issues of projection. Gemima Iseka-Bekano, Marie Keinde and Duha Bilal often provide strong support as Crystal, Ronnette and Chiffon, locals of Skid Row and de-facto lead ensemble members who often demonstrate Emily Bealer’s choreography and movement expanding the pacing and creativity – from some tight moves during Dentist to a colourful flair of green sleeves to emulate Audrey II’s growing tendrils.

Working tightly with the costume and stage design, Beazley and Stinton’s palette for the show catapults colour and neon from the duller backdrop of Skid Row – but showcases that no matter how bright the lights are, the capitalist greed powering them is never quite as glorious as they initially appear. And with plenty of contemporary thought behind it all – Little Shop of Horrors takes as much a punch at greed and cruelty as it revels in the absurdity and joy of the musical. Feed us more EUSOG, we’re starving for a few extra helpings…

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