We’ve all been there, right? There you are, sweeping the floors of a down-and-out florist shop in the worst part of town when a sudden eclipse of the sun brings a Strange and Exotic plant into your life, bringing fame, fortune and questionable moral choices along with it.

If you don’t relate to that scenario, don’t worry: The Court Theatre’s production of cult musical classic Little Shop of Horrors will take you there. It’s bursting with energy, irresistible characters, bopping tunes, and is the exact injection of fun you need in your life.

Seymour Krelbourn is the unlikely hero of this B-horror-turned-musical-comedy, a broke and awkward florist’s assistant who has a secret crush on his co-worker, Audrey, and a mysterious plant that he’s dubbed Audrey II. The unusual horticultural species soon brings throngs of spendthrift customers to Mushnik’s Florist, but in the meantime Seymour has discovered what food it prefers, and suffice to say it’s not sunshine.

The cast is absolutely stellar, the set transports us directly to the scuzzy, brow-beaten streets of Skid Row, and there are a few surprises that have you grinning all the way through both acts, the intermission, and all the way home. With performances as slick as Orin Skivello’s hair and some brilliant production design choices that literally give you chills (never has an illuminated DINER sign shifted a mood so well), the entire show is just a ridiculously good time, ridiculously well executed.

Real standouts are the Urchins, who captivate us from the first notes of the opening number. Throughout the show it’s difficult to keep your eyes off them, especially when they seem to become extensions of the plant itself. They are physically and vocally brilliant, utterly deserving of the resounding cheer they receive at curtain call.

Rutene Spooner somehow manages to take up less space on stage than should be physically possible – his clumsy, nervous, overworked Seymour is completely lacking in confidence, and Rutene makes us love him for it. Mr Mushnik, entertainingly self-serving and hilarious in his outrage (“Don’t you Mr Daddy me!”), does a great tango and looks surprisingly good with a rose between his teeth. Roy Snow is a hysterical delight as sadistic dentist Orin Skivello, DDS, pelvic thrusting through perhaps the wackiest role of all with a gleeful relish that has the entire audience hanging on to his every word. “Say aah,” he commands, and we obey. “Now spit!” Thankfully, nobody does that we notice.

Monique Clementson absolutely kills it (well, not literally) as Audrey. She’s perfectly believable as the insecure, daydreaming love interest, rushing on and off stage as though perpetually afraid of being late to something, giggling and squeaking in a comically endearing way when she talks about Seymour’s “inner beauty”. But Monique makes Audrey her own, using her excellent comedic timing and a serious set of pipes to give a strength and magnetism that can so often be missing from the character.

Brady Peeti’s humanised portrayal of Audrey II is a stroke of genius. It draws our attention to the plant and her antics before we really know anything is amiss, and gives an otherwise inanimate object (“Does this look inanimate to you, bitch?”) distinct, and often hilarious, personality. It allows her to be a character before she’s really a character, and turning your eye to the plant at any given moment rewards you with guaranteed entertainment. From fanning her armpits and making kissy noises for Seymour’s bleeding finger to pushing one of the Urchins out of the way for a photo, this plant is larger than life from the very outset.

Despite its subject matter – domestic violence, murder, a touch of sadism – there’s an undeniable innocence to Little Shop. The Court’s production is charmingly self-aware, from Audrey’s dream of her “big, enormous, 12-inch screen” to the repeated description of the “strange and interesting plant”. It’s very easy to enjoy a show when it’s clear that everyone involved in it had, and is having, an absolute ball. This is so very evident here, and when you exit the theatre to a foyer filled with – well, you’ll see – it will be to undeniable feelings of joy that will last at least until the plants take over the world.

In allowing the show to laugh at itself, The Court Theatre’s Little Shop of Horrors has the audience eating out of the palm of its fronds.

courttheatre.org.nz