Photo courtesy of WARNER BROS Comedian Rick Moranis is one of the stars – along with plant Audrey II – of the film, ‘Little Shop of Horrors.’

How in the world did Hollywood manage to make a movie out of “Little Shop of Horrors”? The premise of this 1986 American horror classic musical film, directed by Frank Oz, is so comical – an evil plant arrives on Earth to demand human blood from an unassuming botanist and take over the planet – that it seems like the whole thing is one big joke.

And in fact, it is a joke. Sort of. The movie’s origins date back to 1960 when super-low-budget director Roger Corman was given access to some sets that were used to shoot another film. There was also the 1982 musical on Broadway.

Working fast, Corman came up with a horror-comedy idea based on his time hanging out in LA coffee shops. Originally, it was about a vampire music critic; then it was about a chef who cooked his customers, and then finally the chef was made into a plant so that the violence wouldn’t run afoul of censors.

The Miller Cinemas in Lewistown will show the 1986 remake of “Little Shop of Horrors” on Sunday, Sept. 14, at 6 p.m. Doors open at 5 p.m. Tickets cost $5. Exclusive Putrid Pete popcorn buckets will be available.

At a time when so many movies show such cold-blooded calculation, here’s one heedless enough to be hilarious. “Little Shop of Horrors” arrives with enough baggage to make it into a thoroughly timid project and yet the movie has the off-hand charm of something that was concocted over the weekend.

This is not only a musical and a comedy, but more of a revue of sorts with comedians Bill Murray, John Candy, James Belushi and Steve Martin, who steals the show as a sadistic, motorcycle-riding dentist.

Yet at the heart of the movie is a basic sweetness, an innocence that extends even to the centerpiece of the story, which is a man-eating plant named Audrey II.

The plant makes its appearance one day in a flower shop window, having arrived from another planet. It immediately begins to grow, to look around itself, to attract attention and to exhibit an appetite for human blood. It also changes the lives of the three people who work in the store: shop assistant Seymour (Rick Moranis); sales clerk Audrey (Ellen Greene) and their kindly, blustering old boss, Mr.

Mushnik (Vincent Gardenia). Suddenly, they have the sort of fame thrust on them that is usually reserved for lottery winners and freak accident survivors.

There are all sorts of people with ideas about how to exploit the wonderful plant, and others who wish it no good. The movie uses them as the occasion for gentle satire and broad comedy, and there’s the sense that “Little Shop of Horrors” is amused by just about whatever comes into its mind.

There is also a romance as Seymour falls in love with Audrey, but must win her away from the evil dentist (Martin), who roars around on a motorcycle and gives her black eyes.

Meanwhile, Audrey II inexorably grows, nourishing itself with blood from a nick on Seymour’s finger and developing a taste for human flesh. Moranis also has developed a personality in this movie and, in a way, that’s as surprising as Audrey II’s achievement.

After being typecast as a nerd on SCTV and in such limited and predictable films as “Strange Brew,” he emerges here as a shy, likable leading man in the Woody Allen mode.

The movie sometimes makes his work look easy. But he has to carry a lot of the exposition and hold most of the conversations with the plant, and without him the movie might not have been half as confident.

Greene repeats her New York and London role as the human Audrey, and by now the wide-eyed, daffy blond with the pushup bra has become second nature. Her big musical number, “Suddenly Seymour,” has the bravado of a Broadway show-stopper.

All of the wonders of “Little Shop of Horrors” are accomplished with an offhand, casual charm. This is the kind of movie that cults are made of, and the reason why it remains popular after nearly 40 years.

Rating: PG-13

Runtime: 94 minutes

Grade: B+

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Greg Williams is a reporter and Weekend Editor for The Sentinel. A Mifflin County native, he has been writing for The Sentinel since 1991.