REVIEW: Little Shop of Horrors - Woodward Productions, QPAC

Little Shop of Horrors - Presented by Woodward Productions at QPAC Cremorne Theatre

Director: Alister Smith

Music Director: Heidi Loveland

Music Supervision: David Young

Choreography: Dan Venz

Puppet Design: Brenton Van Vliet

Designer: Penny Challen

Lighting Design: Declan O'Neill

Sound Design: Ben Murray

Costumes/Props: Alex Heien

Welcome to Skid Row, Los Angeles. A place where dreams go to wilt, hope is perpetually under-watered, and survival feels like a full-time job with no pay rise in sight. It’s a bleak, monochromatic corner of the world where people are told, both explicitly and implicitly, that they don’t matter. And it’s here, of all places, that a strange little plant promises something intoxicating: visibility, success, love.

Little Shop of Horrors follows Seymour Krelborn, a timid florist’s assistant with a chronic case of bad luck and worse self-esteem. When he discovers a mysterious plant with a taste for blood, his fortunes begin to change. Fame, money and romance suddenly feel within reach — provided he keeps feeding his new green friend. As the plant grows, so too does Seymour’s moral dilemmas.

If you’ve never seen Little Shop of Horrors before (hello, it’s me), this production is a perfect introduction. This beloved cult classic by Howard Ashman and Alan Menken (yes, those Disney legends) hails from a time when weird and wonderful movie musicals thrived. Think Rocky Horror and Beetlejuice. Beneath the catchy-as-hell doo-wop score and absurd humour, Little Shop is a sharp Faustian warning: don’t trade your soul for a shortcut. And whatever you do… don’t feed the plant!

This QPAC season sold out. Then it extended. Then it sold out again. Honestly? They could have filled the Playhouse. Still, the Cremorne Theatre felt electric, with excellent views from every seat. Produced by Alex Woodward, this season is directed by Alister Smith, with choreography by Dan Venz, musical direction by Heidi Loveland, music supervision by David Young, and striking, film-faithful puppet design by Brenton Van Vliet. Smith leans confidently into both the absurdity and the substance of the piece. His vision honours the camp while keeping a firm grip on the show’s darker undercurrents. The pressure to succeed. The hunger to be seen. The quiet terror of believing you’re disposable.

Dan Venz’s choreography propels the story through the doo-wop trio of Kimberley Hodgson, Anna Francesca Armenia and Nykita O’Keeffe. Their rhythmic bopping, attitude and crisp harmonies operate as a playful Greek chorus. The trio are absolute stars. Their harmonies are flawless, their sass is endless, and as ever-present observers of Skid Row, they never miss a beat. I do slightly worry about their necks after all that sassy head action, but it’s a sacrifice clearly made for the greater good.

At the heart of the show are two tender, hopeful souls.

Maxwell Simon as Seymour is endearingly awkward from the moment he shrinks into himself onstage. His jittery physicality, slightly whiny vocal quality and deeply relatable panic when the plant starts talking make him a compelling and sympathetic lead. His chemistry with Kirby Burgess as Audrey is a highlight. Styled to perfection with a stiff blonde wig and slinky costumes, she brings softness, sincerity and strength to a character that can so easily slip into caricature. Her Somewhere That’s Green is intimate and heartbreaking. It’s quietly hopeful, painfully modest in its dreams, and sung directly to the audience like a secret confession. Bonus points for giving us an Audrey speaking voice that’s expressive without tipping into “annoying”. Call Back in the Morning is staged with clever corded-phone chaos, and Suddenly Seymour soars with gospel-style backing vocals and heartfelt sincerity and goofiness.

Bryan Probets’ Mr Mushnik benefits from the assurance of a theatre veteran, most evident in Mushnik and Son, where the number lands its laughs while still finding surprising emotional warmth. Stephen Hirst is a comic chameleon, particularly as the unhinged Orin Scrivello, D.D.S. His dentist is sadistic, wickedly funny, and unnervingly at ease locking eyes with the audience. He flips from charm to genuine threat in an instant. Beyond Orin, Hirst shows he's the jack of all trades (and costumes), with a standout turn as the generic rich guy, delivered with sharp satirical bite.

And then there’s Audrey II. A true marvel. Matthew McKenzie delivers a booming yet sass-filled voice performance, paired with Charles Ball’s expert puppeteering. The plant evolves through multiple forms with astonishing effect. From the wilting pot plant, to the Seymour-operated puppet, to the full monstrous reveal complete with roots that move like arms, the puppetry is mesmerising.

The band, Annie Silva on bass, David Whittingham on guitar, Luke Volker on keys, and Steve Fischer on percussion, bring Menken’s score to life with flair. Sound design by Ben Murray, paired with Heidi Loveland’s musical direction, delivers a rich, punchy sound that never lets the energy drop. Feed Me in particular is a sensory feast, with lighting, sound and staging combining into something almost hallucinatory.

Designer Penny Challen’s painted set and props feel lifted straight from a sketchbook, beautifully echoing the illustrative style of Audrey II itself. The glowing florist signage and lighting strips framing the shop create a constant sense of containment, as though the characters are boxed in from the very start. The opening moments establish a striking visual language: a black-and-white world from floor to wings to flowers to costumes. It feels like a comic book come to life—flat, graphic and stylised—and sets the perfect foundation for a story that’s about to grow wildly out of control.

Costumes and props by Alex Heien smartly track the show’s moral descent. Stark monochrome gives way to saturated greens as Audrey II’s influence spreads. The muses’ emerald sparkle is especially satisfying once colour finally floods the stage. Likewise, Declan O’Neill’s lighting is used sparingly at first, the palette deliberately drained of colour. Slowly, green begins to creep in. By Act Two, the visual transformation of the space is genuinely jaw-dropping and the show just keeps getting funnier. And darker. The reveal of the final Audrey II puppet drew audible gasps.

I overheard a teen at interval say, “It’s really murder-y,” which honestly feels like the most accurate review possible. This Little Shop of Horrors is funny, stylish, musically tight and thoughtful. Beneath the camp lies a warning about capitalism, complicity and the cost of being seen in a world that profits from your silence. I walked in knowing only three songs and walked out completely converted. I would absolutely see it again if it weren’t already sold out!

A bold, brilliant musical by Woodward Productions that reminds us: know your worth, protect your integrity… and never, ever feed the plant. 🌱