
Feed Me, Seymour. Again.
Some movies deserve a place in cinematic history because they're important cultural artifacts. Others earn their place by featuring a homicidal houseplant, a sadistic dentist, a leather-clad motorcycle enthusiast, and enough glorious lunacy to make respectable people question their career choices. Frank Oz's Little Shop of Horrors (1986) belongs firmly in both categories, and its arrival on SteelBook is another opportunity to celebrate one of the most wonderfully deranged musicals ever smuggled into mainstream American cinema. This is the sort of picture that reminds us Hollywood once possessed the magnificent stupidity to spend serious money on something completely insane. A singing, man-eating Venus flytrap from outer space? Absolutely. Give the bastard a production budget and hire Steve Martin.
Born from Roger Corman's famously cheap 1960 B-movie, transformed into an off-Broadway musical, and eventually unleashed upon unsuspecting moviegoers, Little Shop of Horrors is a beautiful collision of exploitation cinema, Broadway showmanship, and 1950s creature-feature hysteria. Rick Moranis plays Seymour Krelborn, a painfully awkward florist whose discovery of an unusual plant promises to rescue a failing flower shop on Skid Row. Unfortunately, Audrey II has dietary requirements that would make Jeffrey Dahmer reconsider his grocery list. Ellen Greene is marvelous as Audrey, a woman whose dreams extend no further than a little house somewhere that's green, while Steve Martin attacks the role of Orin Scrivello, DDS, with the unrestrained enthusiasm of a man who discovered dentistry was the only legitimate profession allowing him to hurt people for money. Throw in Bill Murray as a masochistic dental patient, and you've got a cast that understands precisely how ridiculous this whole enterprise is without ever treating it like a joke.
What makes the film such a goddamn delight is its refusal to apologize for being a B-movie dressed in expensive clothing. Audrey II isn't some weightless computer-generated monstrosity assembled by technicians who have never touched anything more dangerous than a keyboard. It's a magnificent practical-effects creation, a drooling, snapping, singing nightmare that occupies physical space and gives the performers something genuinely monstrous to confront. Levi Stubbs supplies the creature's unforgettable voice, bringing Motown swagger to an organism with a taste for human flesh, while Alan Menken and Howard Ashman's songs turn murder, poverty, abuse, and botanical cannibalism into infectious entertainment. Oz directs the madness with remarkable discipline, never allowing the spectacle to overwhelm the characters or the film's gloriously diseased sense of humor. There's craftsmanship here, the kind that makes you nostalgic for a Hollywood that trusted puppeteers, musicians, and actors to create magic without requiring an army of digital janitors to clean everything up afterward.
The new SteelBook gives this beautifully grotesque production another excuse to invade the living room, and there's plenty worth revisiting beyond the musical numbers and carnivorous wisecracks. The film's famously darker original ending, in which Audrey II's appetite becomes a considerably larger problem for humanity, remains one of the great examples of Hollywood getting nervous about giving audiences exactly what the story deserved. That alternate conclusion is worth seeking out, whether you're encountering the film for the first time or revisiting it for the fiftieth. The theatrical ending might be more comforting, but the apocalyptic version has the wonderfully nasty spirit of Corman's original coursing through its veins. Watching those monstrous plants lay waste to civilization is the sort of gleeful cinematic anarchy that makes you wonder why anyone thought audiences needed a happy ending in the first place.
Forty years later, Little Shop of Horrors remains a gloriously twisted reminder that great entertainment doesn't have to be respectable, realistic, or remotely sane. It needs personality, imagination, a willingness to offend delicate sensibilities, and occasionally a giant fucking plant demanding fresh human meat. Moranis has rarely been better, Greene gives the movie its bruised heart, Martin steals everything that isn't bolted down, and Audrey II remains one of cinema's great monsters. The SteelBook gives collectors another reason to welcome this beautiful freak back into their homes, although anyone familiar with the picture knows that bringing home strange vegetation is generally a terrible idea. Buy the movie. Crank up the volume. Celebrate the madness. Just remember that when something in your collection starts demanding blood, it's probably time to stop watering it.



4K Ultra HD + Digital / Limited Edition Steelbook
Home Video Distributor: Warner Bros.
Available on Blu-ray - October 6, 2026
Screen Formats: 1.85:1
Subtitles: English; French; Spanish
Audio: English: Dolby Atmos; Dolby TrueHD 7.1; DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 ; French: Dolby Digital 2.0 ; Spanish: Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono
Discs: 4K Ultra HD; single-disc set
Region Encoding: 4K region-free
Seymour Krelborn is a down-on-his-luck flower shop assistant whose discovery of a mysterious, exotic plant turns a struggling Skid Row business into an overnight sensation. There's just one small problem: Audrey II doesn't survive on sunlight, water, and the occasional helping of Miracle-Gro. It wants blood, preferably human, and its appetite is growing faster than Seymour's ability to supply the neighborhood's disposable population. Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, Steve Martin, and an outrageously talented supporting cast bring Frank Oz's gloriously demented horror-comedy musical to life, complete with unforgettable songs, spectacular practical effects, and one seriously pissed-off vegetable.
VIDEO
Warner Bros. brings Little Shop of Horrors to 4K Ultra HD with a new restoration featuring Dolby Vision and HDR. The film's exaggerated colors, theatrical lighting, elaborate sets, and extraordinary practical effects make it an especially appealing candidate for the format. Both the 94-minute theatrical version and the 103-minute Director's Cut are included, allowing audiences to choose between Hollywood's relatively cheerful conclusion and Oz's considerably nastier vision of botanical Armageddon.
The restoration promises to give Audrey II's slimy, oversized personality the visual attention it deserves.
AUDIO
The release features a Dolby Atmos soundtrack, giving Alan Menken and Howard Ashman's magnificent musical numbers plenty of room to breathe, grow, and occasionally threaten the human race. Levi Stubbs' booming vocals, the infectious doo-wop harmonies, and Steve Martin's gloriously obnoxious dental number are the primary attractions. With music so essential to the film's identity, the upgraded audio presentation is a welcome addition.
Supplements:
Commentary:
- See below
Special Features:
Warner Bros. hasn't simply tossed the movie into a shiny metal case and called it a birthday celebration. Two newly produced featurettes revisit the film's legacy and the mechanical wizardry behind Audrey II, while returning supplements explore the production, deleted material, and the notorious alternate ending. Particularly welcome is Frank Oz's commentary, which provides insight into the decisions behind one of Hollywood's strangest mainstream musicals.
- NEW: To Feed or Not to Feed: For the Love of Little Shop
- NEW: Mean Green Mother – Creating Audrey II
- Original theatrical audio commentary with Frank Oz
- Frank Oz and Little Shop of Horrors: The Director's Cut
- A Story of Little Shop of Horrors
- Outtakes and deleted scenes with optional commentary
- Director's Cut ending with optional Frank Oz commentary
- Both theatrical and Director's Cut versions
- New 4K restoration with Dolby Vision/HDR
- Dolby Atmos soundtrack
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Composite 4K/Blu-ray Grade
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