Review: La Mirada’s ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ Finds Fresh Humanity in a Familiar Favorite

La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts and McCoy Rigby Entertainment have developed an enviable consistency with musical revivals, but their latest, Little Shop of Horrors, offers an interesting reminder that revitalizing a familiar show doesn’t necessarily require reinventing it.

Director Michael Matthews delivers a recognizably traditional Little Shop, complete with a voracious plant, Skid Row squalor and the doo-wop, R&B and early rock-and-roll influences coursing through Howard Ashman and Alan Menken’s enduring score. What’s somewhat different is the humanity Matthews and his cast find amid the musical’s more outlandish tendencies. The laughs are plentiful, but characters who can easily become cartoons are allowed to resemble people a little more often.

That approach is most apparent in Thomas Hobson’s Seymour Krelborn and Grace Stockdale’s Audrey. Hobson wears Seymour’s timidity physically. Broad-shouldered yet frequently slouched, he looks like a man trying to occupy less space than his frame requires. His silken singing voice supplies another dimension, but some of his most revealing work occurs during non-spoken beats. As Seymour’s arrangement with Audrey II grows more sinister, pain, panic and guilt register across Hobson’s face. Each compromise seems to leave a mark.

It makes for a particularly earnest Seymour, whose affection for Audrey feels like one of the few things that might pull him out of the trouble he’s gotten himself into.

Stockdale meets him on that level while making terrific comic choices of her own. Audrey still possesses the familiar high-pitched affectations, but Stockdale doesn’t lean so heavily into them that the character becomes a punchline. A bit as simple as the conspicuous klip-klop of her heels behind the flower shop earns a sizable laugh. Then comes “Somewhere That’s Green,” and the humor gives way to something almost heartbreaking. Stockdale’s Audrey isn’t dreaming of grandeur; rather, she wants an ordinary home, security and someone who loves her. Her sweetness and hopefulness make those modest aspirations unexpectedly poignant, while a voice capable of considerable power can seemingly be turned on like a switch.

Together, Hobson and Stockdale establish the production’s emotional center, with their softer exchanges ranking among its most memorable moments and occasionally achieving a profound solemnity in a musical whose most famous attraction is a wisecracking carnivorous plant.

The surrounding performances don’t abandon Little Shop’s eccentricity. Joslynn Cortes, Janaya Mahealani Jones and Marisa Moenho are terrific as Crystal, Ronnette and Chiffon, respectively. Part Greek chorus, part ’60s girl group and seemingly always ready with an observation, the trio brings vivacity and sauciness to the proceedings. Each is a vocal dynamo, and together they give the score additional ballast whenever they groove back into the story.

Travis Joe Dixon gets perhaps the greatest opportunity to show his range. His Orin Scrivello retains the dentist’s inherent absurdity, but this version can also be genuinely unnerving. Dixon gives Orin an egocentric swagger and an enthusiasm for sadism that makes Audrey’s predicament more troubling. His inspection of Seymour’s mouth, followed by the gleeful diagnosis that he’s “abscessed,” turns menace into a joke without entirely erasing the menace.

Dixon later demonstrates impressive versatility through Orin’s assortment of secondary characters, transforming into everyone from an unhoused man outside the flower shop to an NBC representative, a female Life magazine representative whose grandiose manner carries an amusing whiff of Moira Rose from Schitt’s Creek, and then a Southern gentleman discussing licensing. His delirious final encounter with laughing gas is especially well played; his increasingly labored panting, laughter and desperate pleas become so convincing that, against better judgment, one might almost feel sorry for him.

Jay Brian Winnick similarly keeps Mr. Mushnik from becoming a simple caricature. His opportunism remains intact, but so does the desperation of a shopkeeper trying to keep a failing business alive in the worst part of town. It’s easy to understand why success matters so much to Mushnik, even when his sudden fatherly affection for Seymour seems closely tied to what Seymour can do for the business.

Audrey II supplies another, considerably less human personality. Wilkie Ferguson III gives the plant a soulful, sassy and formidable voice that grows more maniacal along with its appetite. His James Brown-esque screams lend that hunger a funky urgency capable of getting heads bobbing even as Audrey II demands progressively more horrifying meals. Puppeteer Betsy Zajko complements him with remarkable physical comic timing. The plant can earn a laugh through movement alone, and Zajko’s work becomes more impressive as Audrey II grows, whether managing its enormous physical presence or fishing out such unwanted items as rat poison and a machete from its mouth.

Visually, the production benefits from Scott Pask’s vibrant scenic design and William Ivey Long’s costumes, originating with the 2003 Broadway production and its national tour. The crooked storefronts and wings extend Skid Row’s dilapidation across La Mirada’s sizable stage, while Steven Young’s lighting adds colorful sci-fi flourishes. Josh Bessom’s sound design gives Audrey II appropriate boom and lets thunderclaps augur the danger ahead, and Melissa Dupont’s hair, wig and makeup design keeps the characters rooted convincingly in the show’s outrageous world.

Clarice Ordaz’s choreography is appropriately restrained. This isn’t a musical that needs to become a dance showcase, and movement instead serves the story and builds urgency as Seymour’s crisis worsens. Under Jennifer Lin’s musical direction, the orchestra sounds full and robust, giving Menken’s score plenty of muscle without overwhelming the performers.

Matthews, meanwhile, makes efficient use of the production’s roughly two-hour running time. The pacing is intentional without being unrelenting. Little Shop moves quickly enough that its escalating absurdities never have time to wear out their welcome, yet this staging knows when to quiet down and let Audrey and Seymour simply be vulnerable with one another.

The result still strikes all the familiar chords that longtime Little Shop fans expect without making the production feel as though it’s simply going through the motions. The plant gets bigger, the situation gets crazier and Menken’s melodies receive the treatment they deserve, but there’s a little more feeling beneath the comedy this time around. For newcomers, it also makes for a particularly inviting introduction to why this strange little musical has remained so beloved.

It’s another reminder of why La Mirada belongs among Southern California’s strongest musical-theater houses. The theater may frequently favor established titles, but there’s something to be said for taking a show audiences already know and delivering it with this level of talent and craftsmanship.

This Little Shop of Horrors doesn’t radically alter the recipe, nor does it need to. It simply allows the people caught up in all the blood, camp and botanical mayhem to feel a little more human, which in turn makes their hopes, mistakes and consequences matter a little more. And at a brisk two hours, including intermission, it sates the appetite while leaving you wanting to be fed just a little more.

Cover image caption: Thomas Hobson, Grace Stockdale and Jay Brian Winnick in the La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts/McCoy Rigby Entertainment production of Little Shop of Horrors at the La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts in La Mirada, CA. Photo is by Jason Niedle.

The La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts/McCoy Rigby Entertainment production of Little Shop of Horrors continues through Sunday, October 11th at La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts. Performances are Thursdays at 7:30 p.m., Fridays at 8 p.m., Saturdays at 2 p.m. and 8 p.m., and Sundays at 1:30 p.m. and 6:30 p.m. For tickets and additional information, visit lamiradatheatre.com.