Seymour Krelborn is a nerdy orphan working at Mushnik's, a flower shop in urban Skid Row. He harbors a crush on fellow co-worker Audrey Fulquard, and is berated by Mr. Mushnik daily. One day as Seymour is seeking a new mysterious plant, he finds a very mysterious unidentified plant which he calls Audrey II. The plant seems to have a craving for blood and soon begins to sing for his supper. Soon enough, Seymour feeds Audrey's sadistic dentist boyfriend to the plant and later, Mushnik for witnessing the death of Audrey's ex. Will Audrey II take over the world or will Seymour and Audrey defeat it? Written by
In the original cut of the film Paul Dooley played the part of Patrick Martin. When the cast and crew returned several months later to shoot a new ending, Dooley was unavailable so James Belushi stepped into the role. Dooley received a "special thanks" credit in the film and his scene appears in the black and white workprint ending that was available on the original DVD release. The 2012 Director's Cut Blu-Ray/DVD release restores Dooley's part, and conversely it's Belushi who receives a "special thanks" credit. See more »
During "Skid Row" when Seymour walks down the alley to the gate and homeless people crawl it up and sing, there is a black man in a black beret, who, a few seconds later, when Seymour turns and runs out of the alley, is standing on the sidewalk with a bottle in a paper bag. See more »
On the twenty-third day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, 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...
See more »
"Special Thanks" are given to Paul Dooley, because his scenes as Patrick Martin were cut and re-cast with James Belushi. Dooley's scenes are restored for the Director's cut, and consequently Belushi gets the "Special Thanks" instead. See more »
One of the most unappreciated films of the eighties, the songs, performances, and especially the affectionate screenplay all harken back to the cheap old days of Roger Corman and his B movie compatriots. From Steve Martin's sadistic Elvis-inspired dentist to the early girl-group rock score, "Little Shop" moves with an appropriately cheesy style that lets you in on the joke, yet never insults you for loving those poverty row movies.
23 of 23 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?