Review: Little Shop of Horrors (Exeter Northcott Theatre / UK Tour)

Review by Ellie Kevern

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The streets of Skid Row have made their way to Exeter, as a small auditorium manages to transport audiences straight into Mushnik & Son's little shop. This world-building transcends the stage itself - as we enter the theatre, ivy trellises line the bannisters, green tablecloths cover the tables and little Audrey IIs are scattered throughout the space. The infection has already begun before we've even taken our seats and that's exactly what makes this production feel so alive.

Howard Ashman's Little Shop of Horrors follows Seymour Krelborn, a passionate but timid botanist, as he navigates his growing love for Audrey, his oppressive and power-hungry adoptive father figure Mr Mushnik, and the increasingly dangerous influence of the mysterious plant Audrey II. Add in a maniacal dentist with a rather enthusiastic relationship with laughing gas, and you've got a story that is equal parts camp, comedy and carnage.

Yet beneath the man-eating plant and increasingly ridiculous circumstances lies something rather more sinister. Ashman's musical is, at its heart, an expose of the underbelly of society.The desperation of everyday life sits alongside the fantastical, allowing poverty, abuse, ambition and exploitation to bloom beneath the surface. The set quietly reinforces this throughout. Hanging 'RENT' signs and 'FOR SALE' notices sit alongside the shop, whilst a homeless man occupies a corner of the space. Nothing is particularly heavy-handed, but together these details create a constant sense of deprivation. Skid Row isn't simply where the story happens; it is a community shaped by desperation, where survival is always lurking beneath the surface. It's a Faustian pact dressed up in leaves and teeth.

And this production certainly blooms. The cast grew in confidence throughout, with each of the principal characters finding their own distinctive nuance. Scott McClure's Seymour physically folded in on himself, embodying the awkwardness and insecurity of a man who has spent much of his life believing he is destined to remain in the background. Opposite him, Leigh Quinn as Audrey possessed a quieter kind of power. Her shuffled little trot across the stage, particularly impressive when performed in heels, could have just been comic, but instead revealed something much more vulnerable and yet, still had us laughing. Beneath the camp exterior was a woman desperately trying to make herself smaller within a world that had already told her she wasn't worth very much. Her voice, however, refused to shrink. There was a fragility to Audrey's vocals that developed into something genuinely haunting, leaving more than one goosebump firmly in place. Quinn’s performance balanced despair with a stubborn sense of hope, making Audrey far more than the ditsy romantic interest she could so easily become.

Elsewhere in the cast was Ross Clifton's dentist. Quite frankly, the man arrived on stage as if he'd been launched from a cannon, with his portrayal of the sadistic demon dentist a full-body experience from the second he bounded into the theatre. The mania was deliciously theatrical, yet never quite lost the sinister edge beneath it. His treatment of Audrey in particular brought an uncomfortable darkness beneath the laughter, reminding the audience that this story isn't simply a silly musical about a very hungry plant.

And then, of course, there is the ensemble. It would be remiss to overlook them, as they didn't simply support the story, they seemed to breathe it. Moving together almost as one body, they created a kind of collective hive mind whilst somehow maintaining individuality within it. Their choreography or, more aptly, phoneography at the beginning of Act Two was particularly effective. Director Martin Berry and choreographer Leanne Pinder used the ensemble to illustrate both the suffering of Skid Row and the increasingly sinister influence Audrey II was beginning to exert. What began as a community gradually felt more like a community under control.

That sense of connection extended to the Street Urchins: Ronette, Chiffon and Crystal. Their vocals and movement immediately evoked The Ronettes, giving their performances that wonderful combination of tight harmony, effortless swagger and slightly cheeky theatricality. They weren't simply singing around the action; they felt woven into the world of Skid Row. Initially, I wasn't entirely convinced by their almost futuristic costumes, complete with sapling emblems, but as the production progressed, the pieces began to make sense. Their eventual transformation into full-grown plants revealed a clever connection to Audrey II. Suddenly, they weren't simply narrators hovering at the edges of the action and instead, they were part of the ecosystem. 

The production also made wonderfully clever use of the space when it came to the band. Rather than placing the musicians somewhere separate from the action, they were tucked just above the shop itself, becoming almost another layer of the set. It meant the music was always present without ever competing for attention. The band didn't feel like an accompaniment to the production; they felt like they belonged to the world of it. The set, the ensemble, the music and the performances all contribute to the same slightly grimy, slightly mad, wonderfully theatrical universe.

No Little Shop of Horrors review would be complete without mentioning Audrey II herself. I couldn't take my eyes off the plant! As she grew, she became increasingly difficult to ignore, yet even when completely still, there was something about her that made me feel as though she was watching us right back. The puppetry was remarkably convincing. Every movement gave Audrey II a sense of personality, whilst the voice that emerged from her was equal parts sassy, commanding and deeply threatening. She didn't simply grow throughout the production but instead, she took over. The plant becomes more than just a prop: she is temptation made flesh - or, more accurately, leaves. The bigger she gets, the more difficult she becomes to resist.

Little Shop of Horrors sees the first sowing of seeds for new beginnings in Exeter Northcott, bringing the people of the South West home grown, professional productions mixed with community centred theatre and projects. Martin Berry has cultivated a show that not only delights with raucous laughter but also encourages an audience to consider what they would do to fulfill their dreams and change their circumstances. After all, what's the worst that could happen…it’s only a plant. Isn't it? And to push the flower metaphor to its limit, I can’t wait to see what blossoms next here at Exeter Northcott.

Little Shop of Horrors plays at Exeter Northcott until the 17th October. Tickets from exeternorthcott.co.uk/events/little-shop-of-horrors

It then plays at Lighthouse Poole from 20th - 24th October and Belgrade Theatre 27th - 31st October.

Photos by Craig Fuller