Ellen Greene can still do a killer Audrey.
In conversation, she seamlessly slips in and out of that singular voice ā a little breathy, a little squeaky, a little lispy, a little New York ā that made her āLittle Shop of Horrorsā heroine an instant icon. It wasnāt a register sheād planned on hitting at the audition. It just came out of her in the moment, and it stuck.
āI didnāt think about it,ā Greene, 75, said in a recent interview with The Associated Press. āIt was weird, I mean, I donāt know where half of this stuff came from.ā
Back on tour with āLittle Shopā
In her long and robust career on the stage and screen, Audrey is perhaps Greeneās defining role. Her tragicomic shopgirl of skid row belted her way into audiencesā hearts off-Broadway in 1982, and then in Frank Ozās 1986 film opposite Rick Moranis.
The catchy musical about that flesh-eating plant is never too far in the rearview either. Every few years it seems sheās beckoned for an encore. In 2015, she reprised the role for three sold-out shows, with Jake Gyllenhaal playing Seymour.
Starting this weekend, she’ll be making stops around the country for the next few months for 40th anniversary screenings, from Seattle (Aug. 18) to Atlanta (Nov. 13). Performances of āSomewhere Thatās Greenā have been promised too.
‘Somewhere Thatās Green’
That aching ballad about wanting more, aside from being one of the big showstoppers, holds a special place for Greene. She remembers first listening to it on the unemployment line, waiting to get her check, and quietly singing along.
āI just knew there was an Audrey inside of me waiting to be born,ā Greene said.
She carried that feeling to the audition where composer Alan Menken jumped in to play the piano with lyricist Howard Ashman, already her great friend, looking on. When she finished, everyone was in tears.
Getting the role wasnāt any sort of immediate windfall either. When they started at the WPA Theatre in New York, she was being paid $50 a week for a month of rehearsals and two months of shows off-Broadway. But it was a hit. One night, Steve Martin, who would later play Audreyās abusive dentist boyfriend in the film, even came to see it with Mary Tyler Moore.
On the stage, she performed āSomewhere That’s Greenā sitting on a trash can. For the film, Ashman wrote the number to be staged like the Leslie Caron and Cyd Charisse numbers they both loved, where a character walks into a room and suddenly theyāre in a different outfit for the song.
āYou would think I would just have been floored and so excited that he gave me this gift,ā she said. āInstead, I call him up and Iām crying my eyes out. And Iām saying, wait for this, āWhereās my trash can?āā
Ashman, she said, just laughed and assured her that theyād elicit the same response when the camera pans out to reveal sheās still on skid row. Ironically, this whole exchange happened before sheād even officially been cast in the movie.
How the audience saved Audrey from dying
The story of how the film was made is long and bumpy. John Landis was originally attached to direct, then, briefly, Martin Scorsese, before it found its way to Oz. Greeneās participation was never a given, either. Producer David Geffen wanted to get a ābigger name,ā like Cyndi Lauper, on screen.
āI never thought I would have gotten the film,ā Greene said.
But itās hard to imagine anyone else turning in a performance as distinctive. Test audiences loved her Audrey so much that they wholly rejected an ending in which she dies.
āI love that death scene, personally,ā Greene said. āBut I had an inkling, you see, because Frank directed the Audrey for the screen more heroine-like.ā
Heād taken out lines from the play like āyou donāt meet nice boys when you live on skid row,ā she said in Audrey-speak. She thinks it set her up a little differently. Then at the end, thereās the line āwhen I die, which should be very shortly.ā On stage, she said it to the audience. In the film, she says it to Seymour. It’s more intimate and serious.
āFrank thinks itās because we didnāt take a bow, like in the play, but I think itās because itās just the line is interpreted two different ways. One sets it up that this is silly and Iām OK, and the other one is itās real and itās touching,ā she said.
Oz ultimately relented and they shot a happier conclusion. Now, Greene just likes that they both exist (the original in a directorās cut).
Keeping Howard Ashman’s memory alive
Remembering āLittle Shopā is also a way to remember Ashman, who died of complications related to AIDS in 1991. Their friendship was one of many laughs, songs and adventures. He even took her on her first trip to Paris.
āWe got into my room and he put on a bubble bath, because he knows I love bubble baths. I got into the bath, he gave me Champagne, he gave me caviar, he put on Piaf,ā she said. āWe had separate rooms, of course, but we were close, so what can you do? And Iām from the theater, so Iām not modest.ā
He also looked out for her. When they were drawing up contracts for the āLittle Shopā stage run, all she could think about was making sure London was in there. Unbeknownst to her, Ashman had also given her a half point of the profit, ābecause I created Audrey,ā she said.
āThatās how generous and kind he was and how much he loved me,ā she said. āEverybody loves Audrey because we, I, loved her first. And everybody loves āLittle Shopā because we put so much love in it ā¦ I am so grateful and very humble because when they love āLittle Shopā, they keep it alive, and they keep Howard Ashman alive.ā
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