REVIEW: Trustus Theatre's Little Shop of Horrors is a Win!

“His Audrey II is a botanical Mae West.”

Once again Trustus Theatre knocks another show out of the ballpark. The Little Shop of Horrors was born as a movie way back in 1960. Directed by Roger Corman, the film featured (among others) a young Jack Nicholson. The musical adaptation opened Off-Broadway in 1982 as Little Shop of Horrors. It went on to open in the West End in 1983, Broadway in 2003, and has lived on in numerous tours and revivals, and countless community theatre productions. It has been produced more than once on various Columbia stages, with sold-out houses each time.

The show opens in a dark and dingy Skid Row. A Greek Chorus harkens back to the girl groups of the ‘50s in the prologue It’s funny, it’s sharp and it’s beautifully choreographed.

Our hero is Seymour Krelborn, an orphan employed in Mr. Mushnik’s run-down flower shop. (Of course it’s run-down. It’s in Skid Row.) His co-worker, Audrey, joins him in lamenting their lot and wondering if there is any escape to a better life. Seymour is seriously crushing on Audrey, bless his nebbish little heart. Audrey is in an abusive relationship with a frighteningly sadistic dentist. Mr. Mushnik bemoans the lack of business and wonders if it might be time to close the shop for the last time.

On the possible last day of business at Mushnik’s, Seymour comes in with a mysterious “exotic” plant. He suggests to Mushnik that if they put the plant in the front window, it might attract the customers they’ve been sadly lacking. With Audrey’s help, he convinces Mushnik to give it a try. Wondering what to call the plant, Seymour gallantly dubs it “Audrey II.”

Sadly, Audrey II weakens and appears to be dying despite Seymour’s valiant attempts to pamper and nurture. One evening, an accidental prick of Seymour’s finger gives Audrey II a taste of her favorite treat; the way to A2’s heart is blood. And chaos ensues….

Kristan Claiborne, Abby Smith, and Mel Driggers are the “Greek Chorus as Ronettes.”  They have gorgeous voices, and their tight harmonies are a counterpoint to the drab, dreary set and the drab dreary costumes and the scary underbelly of our story. “The human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced, as such enemies often do, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places.” 

The residents of Skid Row, Seymour, Audrey, and Mushnik are all yearning for something more, something better. Audrey “can’t” leave her abusive boyfriend because she sees him as a way out. Audrey II seemingly gives these characters the answers to their dreams. But (and there’s always a “but”) at what price? How far are our loveable ragtag residents willing to go to make their dreams come true.

Jessica Fichter’s (Trustus Theatre’s executive director — see our interview with Ms. Fichter in the spring 2023 issue of Jasper Magazine) vision of the piece makes this so much more than a musical with a puppet. The inequities of society, the substandard living conditions in which a frightening number of people live, underemployment, and the greedy, vociferous specter of insatiable capitalism are brough to life with vivid clarity. The set puts the audience square in Skid Row with its haphazard angles and dim, dingy lighting. (Warning – there is a “fog” effect from time to time. Nothing major, but if your sinuses are sensitive you might want to sit further back.) Janet Kile’s costumes are realistic and evocative, and each character is dressed perfectly. Randy Moore outdid himself (again) as Musical Director. Matthew DeGuire served as Props Master, and I do hope he had a dozen people helping him backstage. What a herculean task that had to have been. Every technical aspect of this show was without visible flaw (and I say “visible” because all manner of chaos can happen without the audience ever knowing it). Every member of the crew deserves the same kudos as the cast.

And what a brilliant cast. (I’ll attempt to mention them in order of appearance.)  As mentioned earlier, the “Ronettes” were perfection. Applause again to Kristan, Abby, and Mel. Katrina Patrice is stunning and funny and spot on in every role she takes on, and her blonde wig was just the right touch (IYKYK) Lanny Spires inhabited every one of his many roles to the point of disappearing completely. Jonathan Monk was the only person I could ever imagine playing Seymour. He was so pitiful and hopeful and … accommodating. Brittany Michelle Hammock was a most marvelous Audrey; her vocal quality matches her every mood and move. Hunter Boyle never disappoints. He always puts everything he has into every role he plays, and his Mushnik is no different. He is simply magical. Stann Gwynn is loathsome and despicable and delightful as the sadistic dentist, Orin. I have no idea how he managed to sing “Now (It’s Just the Gas)” while wearing a gas mask, choking, and dying without ever missing a note. He belongs in the same magical category as Hunter.

And then there’s Audrey II.  This ain’t no puppet, boys and girls. This is bawdy, bodacious, beautiful Terrance Henderson in all his glory. His voice, his moves, his costumes…. His Audrey II is a botanical Mae West. He is a gift.

This was the first time I’d ever seen Little Shop of Horrors. (I’m skeeved out by puppets.) I’m so glad I saw this one. I’m going back. Everyone should see this show. It’s a perfect storm of theatrical talent, with some of Columbia’s and the Southeast’s finest appearing on and behind the stage. Don’t miss it.

"Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" at Workshop Theatre - a review by August Krickel

Shattered survivors struggle over scraps of nourishment in a barren, apocalyptic wasteland in Workshop Theatre's new production of Edward Albee's classic play, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?  At least, it seems that way, as we spend a few desperate hours in the alcohol-fueled, vitriol-filled lives of a seriously disturbed, and disturbing, married couple, George and Martha. Audiences eager to experience Albee's dark fable with no holds barred will undoubtedly get their money's worth and then some, thanks to brilliant characterizations by a committed cast. Metaphors notwithstanding, the set-up for Who's Afraid is deceptively simple: two academic couples drink, carouse, and argue into the wee hours of the morning. Martha drunkenly and shrewishly criticizes George's shortcomings as a husband, a professor, and a man; he returns fire with wry, catty observations on said drunken shrewishness. Like rival boxers engaged in a harmless exhibition bout, often one or the other can't resist sneaking in a sucker punch or two. Neither really knows where to draw the line, but a bizarre game/deception has enabled the marital battle to rage on for 23 years. Like many, I read this play many years ago, and saw the Burton-Taylor film version, but I had forgotten how devastatingly witty the dialogue is. Elena Martinez-Vidal portrays Martha as an aging Snookie, the once-scandalous college president's daughter, now using booze and random affairs to carry her through a seemingly unhappy marriage. For Martha, it's far easier to get laughs from a clever play on the author Woolf's name and the nursery rhyme, than to actually discuss (or understand) Woolf's work.  Stann Gwynn as George wears a natty, professorial blazer, but sinks his hands deep into its pockets as if it were an old sweater, indicating general despair. Oddly, however, he is verbally clever and quick, nimbly playing with words, images and ideas; if this brilliant man's career has stalled, one wonders how responsible his drunken wife may have been in the squashing his ambitions. Both leads are at the top of their acting game, utterly believable as these amusing yet unlikeable characters.

Lee Williams and Giulia Marie Dalbec play a younger couple, labeled Nick and Honey in the program, although Nick is never referred to by name, and only he ever calls to his wife, as "honey."  Dalbec is either offstage or passed out (or both) for almost half of the play, but does a great job in a radically different role for her, playing mousy rather than the usual vivacious. During long stretches while others are speaking, she is always completely in character, busy with countless, unobtrusive little bits of business that make perfect sense.  It would be very easy to say that Williams seems awkward and self-conscious... except that Nick the character is supposed to be seen that way.  One could add that he is at times overwhelmed by the forceful personalities of the two leads...yet again, the character is written that way. Albee never gives Nick the lines to establish him as a scholar or scientist; in fact, in many ways he seems to be a younger, blander, incomplete version of George himself, with modest career goals, a wife who can't hold her liquor, a wealthy and larger-than-life father-in-law, and unspoken issues in his past. (The Trekkie in me wants Nick and Honey to be George and Martha from some alternate universe, visiting via a temporal flux, but no such luck.) Overall, Williams does his best with a difficult role.

I might have wanted to see a deeper debate on science vs. history or philosophy, but Albee is working in a different direction entirely, as the couples spend a solid two and a half hours (plus intermissions) seemingly fighting over nothing.  There's a central (and famous) plot twist that I won't reveal here, but in retrospect, it seems telegraphed from early in the first act, but I'm uncertain how newcomers to the show will perceive it.  Martha tells George that he doesn't know the difference between truth and illusion, to which he replies "No, but we must carry on as though we did."  In interviews, the playwright has professed a desire to aggressively engage the audience in the business of understanding the material, and accordingly we have to fill in many of the blanks and connect the dots for George and Martha's backstory and motivations. Only at the very end do we glimpse the actual affection and co-dependency shared by the couple, which then explains much of the dysfunctional fiction they have created, but audiences, scholars and critics have spent the last half century debating just how believable and effective that may be, from a literary standpoint. From a dramatic standpoint, it's quite moving.

Director Cynthia Gilliam allows the fast and furious dialogue to proceed naturally, never missing any of the many laugh lines that pepper the dark material.  I was surprised at how fresh and contemporary the 50-year-old script seemed, with just the tiniest hint of the Mad Men era, before certain modern expressions became common.  Costumes (by Janet Kile) are authentic, and yet could be worn today; a couple of random references to the Depression and World War 2 are the only things to indicate the setting. Towards the show's conclusion, George recites part of a Latin requiem, while Martha recounts an often-told story. Gilliam cleverly takes advantage of Gwynn's rich voice and has him actually sing the words, giving the moment a haunting beauty that is not otherwise found in the original.  Randy Strange's set accurately depicts an ordinary, upper-middle class living room, but I must praise whoever dressed the set (I'm guessing Meg Richards, credited for props.) Among all the customary suburban bric-a-brac are two framed photos, and sure enough, they are youthful portraits of Gwynn and Martinez-Vidal.

The ultimate question becomes: did I enjoy the play?  My answer is that I thoroughly enjoyed and admired the performances by the cast, and the new insights gained into the material via the director's vision.  I’d really question someone who actually enjoys Albee, much as one might admire the first ten minutes of Saving Pvt. Ryan, but not technically enjoy them.  Albee is one of the giants of contemporary theatre, and undeniably a genius, although possibly a mad genius. Joe Six-Pack who might otherwise be watching WWE Raw will likely not appreciate this work (although it features similar smackdowns and trash-talking!)  Any literate adults with backgrounds or interests in literature, sociology or psychology, and who want to see challenging themes acted out live by gifted performers, need to see this production.  With only seven performances left in a 199-seat theatre, there's no excuse for there not to be standing room only.  The show runs through Sat. Nov. 24th, i.e. the Saturday after Thanksgiving, contact the Workshop Box Office at 803-799-6551, or visit http://www.workshoptheatre.com for ticket information.

~ August Krickel