This is one of the few Roger Corman productions that I've enjoyed. And it's mainly because of the ghoulishly amusing story, a couple of outrageous performances, and the wit built into Charles B. Griffith's script.
Gravis Mushnik operates a flower shop on "skid row" in Los Angeles. He can afford two employees, the innocent Audrey and the clumsy, mother-dominated Seymour. The boy is so inept he sends flowers to a funeral with a "Get Well" card, and others to a hospital patient with "Rest in Peace." To keep from being fired, Seymour brings in a strange plant, a mutated Venus fly trap. The plant is small at first, a bulb the size of an avocado, but when it's fed flesh, it grows as large as a refrigerator. It's up to Seymour to keep finding it fresh meat and he does -- a railroad detective, then a sadistic dentist, and finally a beautiful whore. Two accidents, one self defense. Seymour decides that the plant will make him famous and rich enough to marry Audrey. In the end, Seymour is consumed by his own ambition.
I would guess that the budget was something less than that available to a marching band in St. George, Utah. The opening, noir-like narration by a detective, accompanies a picture of Skid Row, and it really IS a sketch, in a crowded style something like Robert Crumb's. Some of the performances are so poor that the actors might have been dragged in from the street and paid off with a box lunch.
But, oh, the presentation! Gravis Mushnik, the store's owner, is a big man with dark eyes, like Charlie Chaplin's frequent villain. His speech is full of Yiddish locutions -- flowery, ironic, unabashed and unashamed. "It's a finger of speech." "Come, talk on me." And the signs on the wall of his shop. "Lots plants cheap!" And, "We don't letting you spend so much." He's a marvelous character, the waving of his arms, the agonized ululations, and the rolling of his eyes heavenward with disbelief.
The sometimes sharp wit extends to lesser characters, like Dick Miller, the customer who buys bouquets only to eat them. "Be back tomorrow. I love kosher flowers." When Seymour's mother tells him, "They're presenting my son with a trophy," Miller comes back with, "Oh, yeah? What'd he do, run away from home?" I won't go on about the scene in the dentist's office except to mention Jack Nicholson as the whining pain freak with the high-pitched voice. Oh, and the insane dentist who drills Nicholson's teeth full of holes and mixes the filler, saying, "I can't afford silver. This stuff doesn't last long but it tastes good," and then takes a spoonful of it.
The musical score is by Fred Katz, a popular cellist and jazz musician of the period. I doubt he was responsible for what we hear on Seymour's Mom's radio: "Music for old invalids. And now -- Sickroom Serenade." The movie has no mercy.
Gravis Mushnik operates a flower shop on "skid row" in Los Angeles. He can afford two employees, the innocent Audrey and the clumsy, mother-dominated Seymour. The boy is so inept he sends flowers to a funeral with a "Get Well" card, and others to a hospital patient with "Rest in Peace." To keep from being fired, Seymour brings in a strange plant, a mutated Venus fly trap. The plant is small at first, a bulb the size of an avocado, but when it's fed flesh, it grows as large as a refrigerator. It's up to Seymour to keep finding it fresh meat and he does -- a railroad detective, then a sadistic dentist, and finally a beautiful whore. Two accidents, one self defense. Seymour decides that the plant will make him famous and rich enough to marry Audrey. In the end, Seymour is consumed by his own ambition.
I would guess that the budget was something less than that available to a marching band in St. George, Utah. The opening, noir-like narration by a detective, accompanies a picture of Skid Row, and it really IS a sketch, in a crowded style something like Robert Crumb's. Some of the performances are so poor that the actors might have been dragged in from the street and paid off with a box lunch.
But, oh, the presentation! Gravis Mushnik, the store's owner, is a big man with dark eyes, like Charlie Chaplin's frequent villain. His speech is full of Yiddish locutions -- flowery, ironic, unabashed and unashamed. "It's a finger of speech." "Come, talk on me." And the signs on the wall of his shop. "Lots plants cheap!" And, "We don't letting you spend so much." He's a marvelous character, the waving of his arms, the agonized ululations, and the rolling of his eyes heavenward with disbelief.
The sometimes sharp wit extends to lesser characters, like Dick Miller, the customer who buys bouquets only to eat them. "Be back tomorrow. I love kosher flowers." When Seymour's mother tells him, "They're presenting my son with a trophy," Miller comes back with, "Oh, yeah? What'd he do, run away from home?" I won't go on about the scene in the dentist's office except to mention Jack Nicholson as the whining pain freak with the high-pitched voice. Oh, and the insane dentist who drills Nicholson's teeth full of holes and mixes the filler, saying, "I can't afford silver. This stuff doesn't last long but it tastes good," and then takes a spoonful of it.
The musical score is by Fred Katz, a popular cellist and jazz musician of the period. I doubt he was responsible for what we hear on Seymour's Mom's radio: "Music for old invalids. And now -- Sickroom Serenade." The movie has no mercy.