MANILA, PHILIPPINES — The Sandbox Collective’s take on Little Shop of Horrors is a delightfully quirky romp, going heavy on the laughs while relishing in the inherent campiness of the material. Longtime fans of the musical, however, might notice it goes light on one of the play’s meatier flavors: social commentary. More farcical than Faustian, this particular trip through Skid Row is an acquired taste, one that remains immensely enjoyable as long as expectations remain tempered.
Little Shop of Horrors, originally written in the 1980s by Howard Ashman (book and lyrics) and Alan Menken (music), tells the story of Seymour Krelborn, a schleppy young plant shop assistant working in the run-down urban slum known as Skid Row. He pines after his co-worker, Audrey, who is trapped in an abusive relationship with Orin, a dentist with a nitrous oxide addiction and a psychopathic degree of sadism. Seymour’s fortunes begin to improve—both in terms of romance and his overall lot in life—when he chances upon a mysterious plant that grows as long as he feeds it human blood.
If you’re unfamiliar with the play, trust us — it’s a comedy. Little Shop is, in fact, one of the more entertaining black comedies to grace an off-Broadway stage, balancing its themes of class struggle and corruption with a lively Motown-inspired soundtrack, dazzling visuals, and plenty of gags.
For his interpretation, director Toff de Venecia tilts that balance in favor of the laughs, delivering an ambitious yet possibly polarizing version of the musical. There’s a heavy emphasis on the physicality of his performers, almost teetering to the point of caricature. In other hands, this might’ve made the play difficult to watch, but Toff’s trust in his actors shows in how they deftly pull back on the camp at just the right moment.
This is most apparent in Reb Atadero’s Seymour, who charms with his slouchy, good-natured smallness before squeezing and stretching his body language during his bigger moments in a manner reminiscent of bodabil. Feeding off of that energy is Sue Ramirez as Audrey, who made her Philippine theater debut in this writer’s viewing. Sue channels Betty Boop in all the best ways, playing the role of “kind-hearted bimbo” to a tee.
As entertaining as they both are, however, Reb and Sue aren’t quite able to deliver on the more melancholic undertones that their characters are known for, with much of their sadder notes limited to their song numbers. Reb, for instance, absolutely nails Seymour’s desperation during the final pleas in “Skid Row (Downtown)”, wailing out to anyone who might be able to tell him how to get out of his situation. Sue delivers a tear-jerking moment as Audrey’s humble, lower-middle-class fantasies give way to her current reality in Skid Row at the end of “Somewhere That’s Green”, a jarring emotional transition handled beautifully by the actor.
But these emotions don’t seem to translate outside the music, with the actors more focused on delivering laughs, often through cheeky, wink-wink-nudge-nudge moments with the audience. Because of this, by the time the couple makes it to the play’s seminal song, “Suddenly Seymour”, it takes a small stretch to feel a connection between them deeper than friendship. Which is a shame, really, because as far as love songs between two broken people go, this has to be one of the most heartfelt ones of the 20th century: a dawning realization of how the downtrodden Seymour and Audrey lift each other up. These emotional beats weren’t earned in the lead-up, at least in this writer’s viewing, leaving Reb’s and Sue’s rendition a little less impactful than it could’ve been, albeit beautifully sung nonetheless.
The same rings true for the other human denizens of Skid Row, characters for whom the stakes may be lower, yet are still essential for fleshing out the milieu. Among them, Audie Gemora is given the most opportunity for pathos as Mr. Mushnik, Seymour’s boss and de facto father figure, and Audie swings for the fences with it. One can sense that his Mushnik really cares for Seymour, despite always talking to him like the boy is the living embodiment of a stress headache. The moment he realizes what horrors have been taking place in his shop delivers some of the most complex emotions of the show: a blend of fear, concern, and betrayal that permeates through every quiver in Audie’s voice. All that’s lacking in an otherwise strong performance is that subtle undertone of desperation brought about by living in a lower-income neighborhood.
David Ezra was given one of the play’s most difficult roles as Orin Scrivello, a character written to be absolutely detestable—perhaps even more of a monster than the man-eating plant, Audrey 2—yet also strangely sympathetic at the time of his death. His passing, in fact, is a key thematic turning point in Little Shop, where audiences are meant to question who the real monster is. David hits all the right comedic notes for the role, going deliciously over-the-top with his character’s sadism, but misses on Orin’s underlying need for approval and acceptance. Because of this, it becomes easy to forget that Orin is human, even as he’s pleading for his life.
Tying everything together is the play’s very own Greek chorus, The Urchins, a trio of teenage girls who both serve as narrator and as diegetic residents of Skid Row. Abi Sulit, Paula Paguio, and Mikee Baskinas are largely effective as the musical foundation of the show, with Abi in particular proving how much of a powerhouse she is as a vocalist. The only point of improvement this writer can think of is in their inconsistent accent work, a quirk that seemed to plague every member of the cast during our viewing.
At the center of it all is Julia Serad’s Audrey 2, a deceitful, ever-hungry alien plant who craves human blood. Julia voices the role of the monster with incredible relish, with the puppet immediately popping off the stage from her character’s first appearance. Toff made several creative choices that make her Audrey 2 feel remarkably novel despite the role’s age, so much so that there was an audible gasp from the audience when the monster made its presence fully felt. Julia clearly enjoyed the direction, oozing with evil intent (and a bit of sass) every time a word escaped her lips. By the time the play reaches its denouement, Audrey 2’s presence consumes—rather aptly—everything around her.
Where the character work may be lacking in terms of physicalizing the play’s inherent themes of class struggle and oppression, Mio Infante’s set and costume design—along with Joseph Matheu’s lighting design—is particularly effective. Their Skid Row is bare, uneven, broken down, and almost painfully gray in palette, creating a delightful contrast with Kayla Teodoro’s toxically colorful puppet design for Audrey 2. Juxtaposed against each other, there’s a sense of visual conflict between the downtrodden world of the play and the monster’s alien anatomy: the stage is at once drab and garish, miserable and thriving, defeated and full of promise. As Audrey 2’s influence on Skid Row and its people grows in Act 2, so too do the set, lighting, and costumes transform to look more like her, subsumed by the alien threat.
Taken only for what is presented onstage, there’s a lot to enjoy about The Sandbox Collective’s Little Shop of Horrors. It’s wildly imaginative, undeniably hilarious, and very clearly made with a lot of love. Audiences will almost certainly have a good time at the theater if they’re looking for a black comedy.
But there’s also something darkly funny about a play with themes of class struggle somehow missing its chance at delivering social commentary in a country like the Philippines. The current political climate, for instance, is rife for satire driven by Faustian propositions. When that satire is baked into the material itself, when a play’s very setting is so reminiscent of everyday Filipino life, it’s always going to be disappointing when those two dots are left unconnected.
Perhaps it’s because the direction wanted to remain as faithful as possible to the source after committing to a few creative swerves. There’s a distinct American-ness to the production that rings true to Howard Ashman and Alan Menken’s original vision. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to honor the material with an accurate representation of it.
When there are themes so strongly connected to the audience’s own milieu, however, a few more of those creative swerves aren’t just warranted; they’re appreciated. Yes, Little Shop of Horrors is a comedy, and yes, this production delivers satisfactorily on that end—but it’s also much more than that, especially for our local audience.
Besides, what’s more Filipino than being able to laugh under the heel of systemic oppression?
“Little Shop of Horrors” runs from July 05 to July 28, 2024 at the Globe Auditorium, Maybank Performing Arts Center, Bonifacio Global City. Tickets are available via Ticketworld.
“Little Shop of Horrors” also features an alternate cast with Nyoy Volante as Seymour, Karylle Tatlonghari as Audrey, Markki Stroem as Orin, and OJ Mariano as Audrey 2. Audie Gemora plays Mr. Mushnik with both casts.
Adobo Magazine is an official media partner of The Sandbox Collective’s 10th season.
