Welcome to Six Damn Fine Degrees. These instalments will be inspired by the idea of six degrees of separation in the loosest sense. The only rule: it connects – in some way – to the previous instalment. So come join us on our weekly foray into interconnectedness!
Moving on from the uncanny to straight up spooky: I used to love Halloween. I threw massive parties and carved pumpkins with agonised faces barfing up sepia spaghetti!
Then, I had kids.
I still throw parties, but I spend the entire month of October hoping that this year is the year that they have finally outgrown Halloween.
But then, my 12-year-old tells me it’s her favourite party of the year, “even better than my birthday”. And when I invite the 14-year-old’s friends, their parents inform me that those hulking adolescents with their poker faces have been secretly, eagerly awaiting the invitation. So of course I bust out the life-sized skeleton, hang the wreath of glowing eyeballs on the door and throw together a party. We do trick-or-treating and a movie. I make my kids carve the pumpkins, though.
The choice of movie is an ordeal in itself. It has to be spooky but not too spooky. Fun, but not too slapstick. For three years in a row, that meant we watched Nightmare Before Christmas. (Apparently, this hasn’t stopped the 14-year-olds from coming, but I finally put my foot down. No more Jack for the next few years.) We had Spirited Away (2001), Hocus Pocus (1993), Coraline (2009) and Corpse Bride (2005). This year, my procrastination desperation got the better of me and I grabbed the first movie I found on my shelf: Alan Menken’s Little Shop of Horrors (1986).
You guys, none of those teens had ever heard of Little Shop of Horrors. I’ve since asked my millennial coworkers – none of them recognised it either. Only one of them, once prompted, remembered Rick Moranis from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids (1989).
Watching teens – all of them raised with modern media sensibilities – sample a 1980s horror comedy musical was a ride.
Here is a short list of observations:
- They were all really into the music and followed along with the lyrics. Tichina Arnold, Michelle Weeks and Tisha Campbell as the three background singers got the most love.
- Some audible tutting when the magical-Chinese character trope makes an appearance in the form of the shopkeeper who sells Seymour the plant.
- When Steve Martin’s character gets introduced (“he’s a dentist because he’s a sadist”), no fewer than three of them protested. “But I like my dentist! He’s really nice!” OMG what.
- All of them hated Audrey’s lisping voice. I told them she’s meant to sound like that and to listen up for when her voice changes. When she burst into the refrain of “Suddenly Seymour” with a roar, they gasped. They got it. They really, really got it. That made me so happy.
- In fact, none of them knew what to do with the comedic way the dentist boyfriend’s abuse is handled – and I’m glad of it. The casual, cynical, humorous cruelty is very ’80s, I think. At the same time, when Audrey runs after him in her heels, gasping, “I’m sorry, doctor! I’m sorry, doctor!”… I mean, that is still pretty hilarious.
- When Seymour tells Audrey to wipe off her make-up because she doesn’t need it anymore, my 14-year-old straight out drawled, “That’s pretty controlling. Is he one of those, what’s it called, nice guys?”
- While Seymour is waiting for his radio interview, the studio assistant bends over, and the plant leers at her prominent butt. I always assumed the plant was just another male creep, portrayed that way for comic effect, but then my 12-year-old said, “Is she on her period?”… whoa.
The biggest reveal, however, – and I had not the slightest idea – was that this movie has two endings. Apparently, the first one, in which everyone dies and the plant takes over the world Godzilla-style (by looming over the Statue of Liberty and tossing around a few New York taxis), was such a bust during the test screenings, they shot another ending. In that one, Seymour rises from the destruction of the flower shop, vanquishes the plant and saves the girl. That’s the ending everyone knows and loves.
You can guess what happened.
Yeah, I showed this group of mystified teens the version in which everyone they rooted for dies. Those silent “WTF??”s in their eyes will haunt me till next Halloween.
But hey, maybe by then they’ll finally be too old for Halloween.
A Damn Fine Cup of Culture 