On the Naming of the Horror in Little Shop of Horrors

Herein presented: a lukewarm take on the symbolism of naming the monster in Little Shop of Horrors “Audrey II.”

A brief recap of the musical is perhaps in order. Seymour works in a flower shop, has a crush on Audrey, Audrey is in an abusive relationship, Seymour discovers a strange plant after a random eclipse, names it Audrey II, the plant craves human blood, Seymour starts killing people to feed it, gets super famous, decides that killing people isn’t worth it, the plant eats person-Audrey, Seymour sacrifices himself to kill the plant. Naming the plant Audrey II is presented as “I’m in love with Audrey-the-person so I’m going to name this awesome new plant after her,” but whatever the actual reasons for it from either Seymour’s perspective or that of the writers, the symbolic implications are fascinating.

Broadly, Audrey II is a man-eating plant that has no morally-good rationale for making Seymour kill people. Sure, it tells Seymour to kill ‘bad people’ because the world has enough of those, but there is very little if any subtext in the musical that the plant wants to rid the world of only ‘bad people’. In fact, the Finale Ultimo says the plant goes on to “eat Cleveland, and Des Moines … and this theatre” [in some recordings, “and where you live”], so the ‘bad people’ thing was only a means of starting the killing spiral.

This presents the logical conclusion that since Audrey II wants to kill people willy-nilly for no reasoned end besides controlling the world, and Audrey II is named after Audrey-the-person, Audrey-the-person necessarily either shares those basic values or (for juxtaposition/foil reasons) has the opposite of those values.

First, the second. The Audreys are at best weak foils, as foils imply opposing parallels in action and/or intention. In action, Audrey II kills people without remorse and with ill intent; Audrey-the-person is responsible for death, but is passive in her killing. Yes, the Dentist and Seymour die because of Audrey-the-person, but not because of her intentions or actions but expressly because of these men’s desire to ‘have’ or ‘save’ her. Audrey-the-person does not express a desire for the Dentist to die - she is the victim of abuse and his death releases her from that, but she herself does not expressly motivate the killing. She doesn’t tell Seymour “gee, it sure would be nice if someone - hint, hint - killed my boyfriend,” Seymour looks at her situation and goes “yeah, I could probably kill that guy and things would be better for Audrey.” Then Seymour’s death, as well, is not intentional on her part. It is a reaction to the plant’s having hurt Audrey.

So when Audrey-the-person has no agency in the killings that are done around her I’m not certain that calling the Audreys foils is relevant. It is interesting to consider them as killings done on her behalf, and therefore as a commentary on how Seymour’s perceptions of Audrey-the-person’s needs motivate killings in the same way as do Audrey-the-plant’s intentional calls-to-killing. Murdering the Dentist is seen as at least equally rational as a reaction to his abuse of Audrey-the-person as it is as a reaction to the plant’s motivation. “She projected an aura of needing help, which was the same as actively asking me to murder him.” I would imagine (and hope) that it was not the explicit intention of the author to put forth that sort of idea, that it is purely coincidental. And if you don’t delve that deep, the foil argument isn’t that strong.

Then the naming decision paints the Audreys as sharing basic values. At the most innocent end of the spectrum, this is a simple coincidence, the name is meant only as a reflection of Seymour’s attraction to Audrey, I should stop overanalysing things, everything’s okay. But I think that it bears talking about, how naming the monster after the person necessarily invites comparisons of their desires. Audrey-the-person is compared to an entity that is maliciously working toward the killing off of people in general, even without portraying either as the immediate culprit of these deaths (see: the Dentist’s death as a result of his abuse of Audrey, and from Seymour’s desire to do away with him, so it’s not either Audrey’s fault, but the impetus for his death comes from the convergence of the two Audreys). What is the point, then? That women want to cause chaos and destruction, and prey on emotional vulnerability and desire to help just to achieve their horrible, gruesome ends? When Audrey II gives Seymour an excuse to kill the Dentist, it is effectively mirroring how Audrey-the-person is also giving Seymour an ‘excuse’ to kill him. Yes, it could just as well be a commentary on how Seymour’s killing the Dentist over the ‘excuse’ of this abuse is morally wrong and the situation of helplessness or pain isn’t tantamount to an incitement to violence, but at the same time the plant is named after her. These are implications that have to matter because the connotation of sharing a name is so strong, such a trope, so important to so many stories. Is it oversight? Is it commentary?

This lukewarm take comes without touching on Audrey II’s consumption of Audrey-the-person, as that is another large can of worms, nor is there commentary here about the possible ingrained sexism of the ‘I killed someone for her, but she was in pain so essentially she made me do it’ reading. I just genuinely found it interesting.

Hyperawareness of puns in a second language

I was thinking recently about how the acquisition of a second language seems to (at least anecdotally) lead to a more acute ability to detect puns.

It is my belief that this phenomenon comes from the separation between words and concepts in a second language. In a native language, the concepts are so ingrained within the words themselves that there is no separation between the word and its meaning. But even in second languages acquired very early on, languages in which a person is incredibly fluent, there is a small layer of disambiguation that comes from learning the second language as essentially a set of translation words for the concepts in a native language.

Less abstractly: an infant learns the word “ball” in their native language(s) as the word for the concept of the thing that is the ball. They are introduced to the object, then the word “ball” is repeated until the child learns to recognise the word as being a set of sounds by which the idea of the ball-object is related from person to person. If that child is introduced to a second language after they have made this connection, the second language’s word for “ball” is connected to the native-language word for “ball” and not the intrinsic concept of the ball itself. This very slight disconnect leads to what I think is an imperceptible, split-second decision whenever a homophone is introduced in the second language, even far later in life, where the possibly ambiguous word is highlighted in that person’s mind and split into all of the possible concept-meanings, then the applicable concept-meaning is chosen and placed within the context.

In this way, the second-language learner reflexively considers all of the possible meanings of a given word as a step in processing that word, where for a lot of simpler concepts a truly native speaker might have such a deep word-concept tie that they would not experience that step. This naturally leads to a higher sensitivity to wordplay in a second language, particularly puns.

But I would be willing to believe that development of second language skills might increase this ability to detect puns even in a first language, if not to the same extent. I suppose it might depend on the degree to which the native speaker is aware of their second language, or the situation in which the speaker finds themselves (for example in terms of the ratio of native to non-native speakers in the conversation).

I’m interested in the extent to which the age of acquisition, length of acquisition, and number of languages (especially in different language groups/families) affect this phenomenon, as well as whether it extends to syntactical wordplay or just puns and single-word-based wordplay. If you have any thoughts on this, or any related personal experiences, please don’t hesitate to share.

Emotional contexts of language acquisition in Russian and Anglophone households

A brief thought about how the language differences between Russian and English contextualise cause and effect during a child’s first language acquisition period, especially with regard to the concepts of pain and hurting. 

Russian children grow up being told “ей/ему больно” when they hit a toy or try to pull the cat’s tail. This roughly translates to “you’re hurting him/her/it,” but not exactly. Its more literal translation is “he/she/it feels pain.” Long-form, it’s “you’re causing him/her/it to feel pain” (ты делаешь ей/ему больно). An American child would likely never hear their parent say “it feels pain” in the same context, only “he doesn’t like that” or “you’re hurting him.”

This is interesting from the standpoint of where it places the blame for the action, how it distributes cause and effect. The Russian child, purely with the language given, reads the concept of pain as intrinsic to the object or person he’s hurting. The child hit the hamster, the hamster now feels pain. To some extent, there is an abstraction with the concept of “you’ve hurt the hamster.” There is another logical step the child has to take from “I’ve hurt something” to “that something is in pain” that just doesn’t exist as a linguistic difference in normal Russian speech. The action has immediately resulted in a consequence, and that consequence is a change in someone else’s state of being. English focuses on the cause (you hurt her) and Russian on the effect (she is hurt).

This is not to say that children growing up in an Anglophone environment are less likely to internalise the ramifications of causing pain. I only mean to bring this up as an interestingly different pathway in terms of language acquisition and emotional awareness. My idiomatic French in child-raising situations is not stellar, but the same concept might be interesting to apply to the French equivalent of these phrases (tu lui fais du mal, you’re doing [something] bad to him), and to other languages. Also of interest might be different emotion-association phrases such as “I missed you” versus the Russian “я по тебе скучал/а” (I was lonely from your absence) or the French “tu me manque” (you were missing from me). Patterns in how these phrases are laid out within and across languages might be interesting to consider as perhaps being tied to the acquisition of compassion and interpersonal relationship emotions during the childhood language acquisition period.