A strange plant was put on display at the flower shop—an ominous flower, the appearance of which marked the beginning of this story. The flower didn’t need the usual care—no watering, no sunlight—because by its very nature, it’s… a man-eater. And every evening, it waits for a new victim to join it for dinner.
The movie is absolutely enchanting—one of the masterpieces of the ’80s, surprisingly stylish, wildly funny, and filled with rousing music, bringing together a constellation of the top American comedians of the ’80s. After watching this movie, your mind feels clear and your spirits soar to the max; and while watching it, your feet start tapping involuntarily, keeping time with the rhythm of every musical number. There’s so much to this movie… but then again, is there even a point in talking about Frank Oz’s films? This brilliant comedy director is famous for making nothing but masterpieces with the genre’s best actors—just take *Where’s Bob?*, *The Hunchback of Notre Dame*, *The Cool Guy*, or *In and Out*—each film is a whirlwind of positive emotions.
And “Little Shop of Horrors” isn’t just a comedy—it’s a whirlwind mix of ’60s dance beats, dark humor, dazzling special effects, light fantasy, and childlike playfulness.
When you watch this movie, you instantly forget that it’s a remake—and not just any remake, but a double remake. ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ and ‘Don’t Eat My Mom,’ released in 1960 and 1973, respectively, are the “mom and dad” of this film. But Oz has created something entirely original, so we have no right to speak of any “plagiarism.” All that remains of the old stories is the plot; everything else has changed—the humor, the style, the atmosphere. To be fair, it’s worth noting that even the first film wasn’t particularly serious—it was an ironic fairy tale about how a plant defeats a human—while Frank Oz created a grotesque, almost parodic comedy based on it.
The director’s greatest achievement is his subtle stylization in the vein of classic musicals from the ’50s and ’60s, when Fred Astaire and the “funny girls” dominated the screen. And this stylization extends beyond the music—it permeates everything: the vibrant costumes, the dance numbers, the cityscapes, the cinematography, and the characters’ behavior. The characters break into song in all sorts of situations—and it doesn’t matter at all whether they can sing or not, or whether they have a good ear for music or not—they happily belt out playful trills to catchy melodies. Particularly memorable is the film’s title song, “Little Shop of Horrors,” performed by three Black women at the very beginning and end of the film. And the music in the film doesn’t feel out of place at all—the singing characters, who are often annoying in “real” musicals like *Chicago*, seem completely natural here in their vocal performances.
Speaking of horror, in Sonnenfeld’s masterpiece *The Addams Family*, filmed five years after “The Little Shop of Horrors,” we see the same pattern as here: the horror elements are just as stylized as everything else, and thanks to their lighthearted presentation, mockery, and toy-like quality, they don’t instill any fear.
I don’t think even a 5-year-old would be scared by this movie—absolutely everyone can watch it.
As I’ve already mentioned, Oz has assembled a unique ensemble cast. The only thing missing for complete perfection in the film is Dan Aykroyd, Chevy Chase, and Eddie Murphy. The rest of the giants of American comedy are all here. In the lead role is Rick Moranis, who was always perfect at playing the roles of small, lovable losers. A harmless, bespectacled guy—just one look at this pitiful, scrawny figure makes you want to pat him on the shoulder and say, “It’s okay, old man, everything will work out, don’t be sad”—he basically plays the same role everywhere, but it’s always HIS role. When he was very young, at the height of his career, he was incredibly funny in his signature role (though, to be fair, he wouldn’t have been interesting in any other type of role—his facial expressions and physique are just too distinctive).
Unfortunately, his biography serves as a prime example of the plight of a good one-role comedian in film. Like many of his fellow comedians, the brilliant Moranis could not withstand the competition from versatile performers like Kerry and Murphy in the mid-’90s, and is now virtually forgotten, even though his talent has not diminished in the slightest. All that’s left is to rewatch films from a time when small-time losers appealed to audiences more than the pushy and aggressive humor of Carey, Murphy, Tucker, and the like.
His other roles are pure farce. Steve Martin. The magnificent Steve Martin, who, first of all, is dyed a radical black, and second, plays the role of a sadistic dentist whose malice is hilarious—he takes such savage pleasure in pulling out the teeth of his hapless patients that you simply can’t help but be delighted watching him! Martin here is simply a burst of madness, a ball of energy, a bundle of craziness. The way he goes all out playing the vicious dentist is a sight to behold. A performance worthy of the circus ring!
Bill Murray proved a worthy partner for Martin. What could be more terrifying for an evil doctor than a sadomasochistic patient? That’s exactly the kind of patient Murray played, resulting in several minutes of roaring laughter. Martin hurts him, and Murray’s mouthpiece literally flies out of his mouth with joy—which infuriates the nervous dentist beyond words.
And John Candy parodies his fellow comedian Robin Williams—who stole the show in *Good Morning, Vietnam!*—by playing a radio announcer, a sort of one-man band. Meanwhile, James Belushi looks great as a dim-witted agent inspired by the idea of selling a vile flower all over the world. I almost forgot about the charming Ellen Green, who appears as a platinum blonde à la Marilyn Monroe—wearing her signature dresses—and speaks like the starlet dolls from 1950s musicals, in a thin, slightly squeaky voice. At the same time, her figure reminds us of the sexual revolution of the ’60s, and her revealing outfits will seduce more than just Moranis.
And the film also features a cute little man-eating flower with very expressive facial expressions, a great voice, and behavior that’s quite free-spirited for a plant. Together, these wonderful characters create a magnificent, enchanting mix—a comedy that’s a rare gem of positivity, both funny and electrifying, where the action swings from the problem of dental care to near-Dostoevskian depth in scenes where the flower feeds Moranis Raskolnikov’s ideas about world domination through murder. You have to admit, that alone brings a smile to your face! What can an hour and a half of nonstop positivity do to a person!?
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