I first caught wind that Madi Bouchta was directing Little Shop Of Horrors around this time last year. Cayden Ong had just sent out an OUDS-wide call seeking a director for his own dream show, Little Shop. A year later, Ong and Bouchta have mounted an incredibly successful run at the O’Reilly, soon to be followed by a turn at the Oxford Playhouse next term for Cross Keys Productions’ Our House. Bouchta is a director who knows how to get things done – Little Shop has been, in her words, “a year in the making”.
In most regards, this commitment and love for the show comes across. The top of my list of praise is puppet designer Kat Surgay, whose plants caused the opening night audience to gasp and cheer in glee, myself included. The reveal of Charlotte Ward (an Audrey II puppeteer) during the curtain call triggered a standing ovation. The design was immensely well thought-out, and the puppeteers (Ward, alongside Grace Yu and Harriet Wilson) succeed in syncing their movements to Wally McCabe’s scenery-chewing Audrey II, who similarly brought the house down upon their appearance in the bows. Rightfully so, McCabe owned every element of vocal gymnastics the role required and more; their growled delivery of ‘Suppertime’ sent shivers down my spine.
The eight-person cast succeeded in filling the space, both vocally and physically, thanks to Miranda Forbes’ energetic choreography. Will Jacobs’ Seymour was absolute perfection, from the anxious twitching of his band-aided hands to the ease with which he belted his moral dilemma during ‘Feed Me’. This is Jacobs’ OUDS debut but my God, if he isn’t in every show that I see from here out I will riot. He had impeccable chemistry with Eliza Hogermeer’s Audrey, who also never hit a wrong note. Hogermeer was angelic, bringing a lovely grounded nature to a character so often caricatured. You can tell that the directors have worked hard to lend some weight to Audrey, exemplified in ‘Somewhere That’s Green’, where Audrey fantasises about the white-picket life she will never lead, with the Urchins (Praise Adebusoye, Lauren Lisk, and Subomi Adeleye) acting as her husband and children.
Adebusoye, Lisk, and Adeleye as the urchins had an infectious energy. I got the sense as the show went on that they were genuinely having fun with each other on stage, which is always lovely to see. Their harmonies were incredibly tight and assured, and their taunting of Seymour during ‘The Meek Shall Inherit’ was a joy to witness. Additionally, the number’s quick-change multiroling seemed to fall naturally to Cameron Maiklem, who played three characters in rapid succession (and, indeed, about eight characters across the whole show) with confidence and motorboating madness. Tell Mrs Luce to give me a call.
Maiklem’s rendition of one of my favourite numbers from the original musical, ‘Now (It’s Just The Gas)’ was unfortunately hampered by sound issues. Maiklem, as dentist Orin Scrivello D.D.S., wore a BDSM-style Bane mask, which unfortunately garbled his diction through no fault of his own. I am certain from Maiklem’s physicality that it was an amazing performance, but audience members I spoke to who were not already aware of the lyrics did not comprehend a thing. Whilst I understand the direction that the costume department went in by making the mask more menacing than the oft-used space helmet, one wonders if this incomprehensibility is the reason that the space helmet style has become a staple in the first place. I hope, mostly for Maiklem’s sake, that this is resolved on future nights: it was clear how much work he has done to perform an incredibly difficult song, and his work alongside the directors and music department deserves to be done justice.
The show as a whole suffered more than a few sound mishaps. The mixing issues were more than frequent, and often meant that the cast were woefully unheard below the blare of the twelve-strong band. Hogermeer’s climactic end to ‘Suddenly Seymour’, for example, as well as the layers of vocals in ‘Downtown’, and much of the complex three-part harmony in the introductory titular song were completely lost. As such, it seemed to take the show a while to get on its feet. Even when the team seemed to find their stride by Act I’s ‘Ya Never Know’, the issue recurred upon the opening of Act II, where Hogermeer and Jacobs’ patter duet ‘Call Back In The Morning’ was drowned out by the sound effect of ringing phones.
Similarly, the slow-burn opening of the show may have been due to the cast’s lack of comfort with the set. Amelia Morton’s three-storey scaff filled much of the O’Reilly’s floor, and consequently limited much of the space that was usable for the show’s blocking. It was certainly an impressive feat, with tendrils of Audrey II’s roots taking over the stairs and shelving by Act II, but it wasn’t a well integrated part of the production. Once again, this is more than likely the mark of opening night; after all, the cast has only had limited time to get used to singing on seven-metre high shaky flooring.
Much of the lighting, however, was incredibly fitting for the show. Sarah Webb’s design was both effective and incredibly fun; my highlight was the five consecutive green-white gunshot flashes towards the end of the show. I could almost feel the stress radiating off of Deputy Stage Manager Paddy Harmer when I met him after the show and asked him about these cues, but he need not worry – they were programmed, called, and operated perfectly.
Horror comedy musicals with horrifying endings are no stranger to the O’Reilly, and Little Shop has reinstated the genre with a bang. The reinterpretation of the final number, ‘Don’t Feed The Plants’, as the ensemble torturing and taunting Seymour was a direction I didn’t expect, but nevertheless thoroughly enjoyed, perhaps even more than the traditional use of that song as a clap-along closer. It was (forgive my pretentious theatre reviewer coming to the fore here) a fitting end to this Faustian tale.
Walking back to Wadham with Assistant Director Thushita Maheshkumar Sugunaraj, I could hear the last dregs of the cast and crew chatting excitedly behind us, pub-ward bound, all wearing plant sprouts on their heads. The pride in their show was palpable – and warranted. Despite a few teething problems, Little Shop proved itself to be a show with bite.
