The Little Shop of Horrors

In Brief: I may be in the minority when it comes to my views on Roger Corman's The Little Shop of Horrors (1960) — specifically, my assertion that it's a better film than Frank Oz's musical remake or the off-Broadway adaptation that provided its basis. To be clear, it is in no way superior from a technical perspective, but it does hold a deeper appeal to cultists who can't help but appreciate the audacity of its production. Principal photography was completed in two days on leftover sets from an unrelated film with a cast of Corman regulars, and the threadbare production values are blatant. The charm of Corman's movie is its willingness to embrace its limitations and carry on, the unbridled enthusiasm of everyone involved elevating what could have been a throwaway picture in lesser hands. Following his work on Corman's Bucket of Blood, screenwriter Charles B. Griffith had found his niche in black comedy, and Griffith's tone combined with outlandish performances from Jonathan Haze, Dick Miller and a young Jack Nicholson lend the film a level of camp appeal that would come to define much of Corman's work. It's not the most professional piece of filmmaking out there, but it shows what can be achieved with little more than determination and ingenuity.