People’s Light presents Howard Ashman and Alan Menken’s Little Shop of Horrors

Little Shop follows the misadventures of Seymour Krelborn (Anna Faye Lieberman), an orphan taken in by Mr. Mushnik (Mary Elizabeth Scallen), who owns a failing flower-shop on the impoverished Skid Row. Seymour revives the shop by cultivating a unique and mysterious plant that he names Audrey II (“Twoey”), after his coworker Audrey (Jessica Money), whom he secretly loves. But Twoey has a growing bloodlust, persuading Seymour with promises of fame and fortune to satiate its terrible hunger, bringing grisly consequences for those around him.

Tonal variety

The show’s success hinges on hitting rapidly shifting tonal beats, something this cast achieves very well under director Molly Rosa Houlahan. But this production’s musical aspect is occasionally lacking. Lieberman is believably awkward, earnest, and conflicted as Seymour, but her vocals often fall a little short, as do Scallen’s, though she brings depth and charm to Mr. Mushnik, highlighting the comical and softening the despicable.

Though “Mushnik and Son” unites the two notably weakest singing voices, it’s great fun to watch Scallen and Lieberman prance around the stage together, and this duet is stronger than the sum of its parts. But Madeline Garcia (Chiffon), Jessica Johnson (Crystal), and especially Taylor J. Mitchell (Ronette) as the show’s Greek chorus all have standout vocals that befit their large share of the songs.

As Audrey, Money unites persuasive acting with great vocals. “Somewhere That’s Green” is meant to emphasize both Audrey’s poverty and the modest nature of her wildest dreams: life in a tiny suburban tract house that includes exorbitant luxuries like a toaster, in-sink garbage disposal, and “a fence of real chain link”. Money serenades audiences with the perfect mix of hope and self-censure for daring to dream so wildly, and it’s easy to empathize with Audrey’s longing—though the laughably modest framing of her desires stings when you realize that the modern housing market could make her frugal vision cost a quarter-million dollars.

Sincerely absurd

Anton Volovsek’s thoughtfully cultivated set features coin-operated newspaper dispensers whose headlines trumpet the mysterious eclipse that coincided with Audrey II’s arrival. Notices stick to the boarded-up glass of a nearby door, and trash spills out of an unlined garbage can. Visually dynamic and interactive, the tantalizingly detailed set plays its own role in the production.

This includes Audrey II, whose design is half-set and half-costume, and Chabrelle Williams’s vibrant performance as the killer plant will make audiences wish (as I did) that Twoey had more to say. The flamboyantly purple and pink Twoey breaks from the traditional green, and any time its true nature is acknowledged, Ebony M. Burton sets the lighting to match. Similarly, costume designer Camilla Dely slowly integrates pink costume pieces, a visual metaphor for Audrey II’s growing influence.

Houlahan’s production lets the painfully sincere live amicably alongside the absurd, and despite a few flaws, this show is well worth seeing. The juxtaposition of the macabre and the comical, the familiar and the alien, invite us to regard the maxim that there’s “no ethical consumption under capitalism” in a new, more literal light.