#maybe happy ending bway

[d-criss-news]

DarrenArmy: Darren’s updated bio in the November Maybe Happy Ending Playbill

[datshitrandom]

 Darren Criss on Broadway | How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (2012) ⇢ Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2015) ⇢ American Buffalo (2020) ⇢ Maybe Happy Ending (2024) | ♡, ♡, ♡, ♡

[na-page]

DARREN CRISS - Late Night with Seth Meyers | December 16, 2024 | 📷 Lloyd Bishop

[biggestcringefailure]

can maybe happy ending have a fandom please and thank you

[sheisgiventofly]

If Maybe Happy Ending gets cancelled it's because I was planning a trip to nyc to see it in December, and things rarely work out smoothly for me.

I'm so sad 😭😭😭

[dcluver131]

Yall! It’s happening! Tickets on sale through September 7, 2025! “A firefly’s light can’t burn out too quickly”

[shegoestoeleven]

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Is Darren Criss aware that his look for Maybe Happy Ending is just reverting back to Blaine Anderson?

[caus34concern]

i'm tired of pretending that play rehearsal/theater isn't some sort of escape mechanism for christine and that she doesn't have a ton of underlying issues so here's this thing

an escape mechanism is a mental process which enables a person to avoid acknowledging unpleasant or threatening aspects of reality.

"I look around, and everyone's hurting. I wish there was something real I could do to make things better, but I don't know how. So I guess I'll just do theater."

christine's whole character revolves around play rehearsal/theater and her passion for it. when it starts, she's happy. when it's over, she's sad. basically, on a surface level, her entire personality is just being an eccentric theater kid. theater could just be a hyperfixation of hers since she does have adhd, but hyperfixation itself can also be a coping mechanism in the way that sometimes it leads to the avoidance of your problems and instead just causes you to turn to your hyperfixation as a distraction which is basically just escapism. she mentions doing similar when she talks to jeremy right before the pitiful children in the bway production.

for a more in-depth analysis on how and why it's an escape mechanism, it's basically just rooted in how christine wants things to be easy. she said so herself in voices in my head. and that's why she enjoys theater. because it makes her life easy. everything is planned out in a script and there's no uncertainty or pressure of having to decide what to do. she doesn't have to worry about making mistakes or sudden surprises or going off-topic into some tangent because everything is planned. if something happens in a play, it probably happened for a reason, and that reason ultimately usually leads to a happy ending.

another thing about theater she likes is acting. she mentions in a guy that i'd kinda be into that she doesn't relate to other people her age unless she's on stage which is basically just her indirectly saying that she feels disconnected to others and only feels connected when she's on stage. when she's playing a role. when she's acting as someone else. basically, she only connects with people when she pretends to be someone who she's not. in addition, she says in i love play rehearsal that the only time she gets to be the center of attention is when she's acting. there's also this line from the i love play rehearsal demo where she says that when she's being praised on stage she feels like she's in control but then remembers it's just the role she's acting which gives another example of how she uses theater and acting as an escape mechanism. she uses it to feel in control because, as mentioned previously, with a script she won't have to worry about what comes next. she feels in control knowing that everything will work out in the end, but then she remembers that that isn't actually her life and she's merely just acting out someone else's. so she actually isn't in control. her story doesn't have a script to follow or have an ending to be happy about yet.

now onto some of her underlying issues. acting and her lack of sense of self kind of go hand in hand. you know the phrase "losing yourself in a role"? yeah, take that but make it literal and that's christine. due to her often playing roles and acting as someone else, she loses her sense of self. and since she has no friends or at least isn't shown to have any, she has no way of telling what her "true self" is. maybe if she had a friend, they'd be able to tell her that she wasn't herself or that what she was doing was something she wouldn't usually try doing, but since she doesn't, she doesn't know what her true self is. she doesn't know herself outside of the role she acts. she doesn't know herself outside of theater which is practically her life. even jake fell in love with her acting rather than her. the reason jake liked her is because seeing her acting made him feel something and that's all it ever was. the reason they broke up is because "she wasn't juliet". christine was mostly reduced to and liked for her acting by jake. jake didn't like her for her.

and it's due to her lack of sense of self that makes her subconciously a people pleaser. she doesn't realize because she finds it natural to pretend to be someone she's not. she doesn't realize because she doesn't have a sense of self to begin with. christine mentions in i love play rehearsal that she wonders if she's living up to all she's meant to be. at first, maybe it's about her acting. something like am living up to the expectations of those around me? but with her previous issues taken into account, it might instead be am i showing people who i actually am instead of who i can be? jake said something similar himself in the bway version of upgrade. he asks christine when was the last time she tried something new that wasn't on stage. she's been limiting herself to a life on stage and grown used to acting as someone else to the point that she's never actually able to "live up to all she's meant to be".

ok that's it i just really needed to get this thing out of my system, and i hope this causes one less person to mischaracterize christine or water her down to an eccentric theater kid with adhd because that girl is so insecure and sad

[caddyheron]

Hii what are your opinions on the Gretchen & Regina relationship? Both in musical and in the film :)

thank you for opening this can of worms, im answering with regard to 2024 movie and bway production! i don’t remember enough about 2004 movie and musicals are my favourite thing

OKAY SO. I’ll start with Gretchen feels like it’s a transactional friendship, she’s convinced, for awhile, that it’s a good friendship, she gives (and gives and gives and gives) to Regina and she gets things back! (mostly just criticism). I find that she has so much worry for Regina and her primary goal all the time is to keep Regina at the very top of the social hierarchy - that’s her role, her job, it’s who she is, she works for Regina. Obviously “What’s Wrong With Me” is sort of the song where i find Gretchen starts to have some realisations and it all comes flooding that huh. maybe this isn’t transactional and maybe I’m not actually happy at all. The lines “what’s wrong with me? / could it be you? / it’s probably me” stick out to me so much and it’s like. That is essence of Gretchen and Regina’s relationship (pre end of the movie, anyway), Gretchen loves Regina without condition and reservation and she will justify it to herself as much as she can “when I realised Regina’s love language was anger…”, because she can’t see a world where is isnt second in command to Regina, where her life doesn’t revolve around Regina and her feelings. For Regina, she’s possessive over Gretchen, Gretchen is *her* friend and I find that Gretchen has to be the person Regina trusts the most because Gretchen knows everything about her. She cares about Gretchen, but cares about her because she knows she needs Gretchen in a way, although she wouldn’t admit it.

I have so many headcanons about their friendship that make it extend beyond “faux-transactional friendship where Gretchen gives and gives to keep Regina in power”. So everything else I say is headcanon.

I have so many hcs about Regina’s mental health and that only Gretchen knows about it. She’s helped Regina though so many things that she feels obligated in every single way to get her through everything. No one would ever be able to tell something was wrong because Gretchen made sure of it - she has everything on hand and knows what she’s doing. In “What’s Wrong with Me” (reprise) the lines: “Hug me while my shoulders tense / And we’ll pretend we’re find / Though we both know one day / There’ll be blood on the floor / But which will betray / the other one more” capture so much of how I see things. Everything is so wrong but if Gretchen can keep up Regina’s perfect image and not make Regina angry at her for as long as possible, then it will be *fine*. I hc Gretchen has severe anxiety but she’s also incredibly, incredibly functional and not one person knows. There’s little transactional help, she doesn’t get to be down, or feel bad or have things wrong, and, on the other hand, neither does Regina but Gretchen is always there to fight Regina’s battles alongside her with no one to help fight hers.

This is so much nonsense rambling and really surface level that I can and will dive into deeper because there’s so much significance in so many places, like Gretchen giving Regina her abuelito’s music box and it being left in the closet. That just feels like a metaphor for their relationship.

[swan--writes]

For Dewey song fics can you write six degrees of separation by Coldplay please x

This got a little intense, sorry.

Warnings: no happy endings here, dead dove: do not eat

Words: ~2915, unedited again

You shouldn’t be thinking about it. Yet, here you were, staring at your dark ceiling and thinking about it.

There were so many more productive things you could be doing with your energy. There was a book on your nightstand that you had been meaning to read, there was a show you had been meaning to watch. You could doodle, you could journal, you could call a friend. It had been at least an hour since you first lied down, you knew you weren’t going to get to sleep any time soon.

A glance at the clock dismissed the idea of calling anyone, but you still pulled yourself up and slipped out of bed. Your estimate had been right, you had been lying in bed for an hour and four minutes. It was late, your roommates would kill you if you made too much noise. But it was late enough that the threshold for too much noise was higher than usual.

You padded to the kitchen on bare feet and washed your favorite mug. As soon as you felt the warm water on your hands, your breath went shallow.

You’ve read the books, you’ve watched the shows.

Immediately, you shut off the water and leaned heavily with your hands on the sink.

What’s the best way?

You squeezed your burning eyes closed for exactly five seconds.

No-one knows.

The feeling of water had become almost unbearable, but at seemingly random times. Showers were a crapshoot now – sometimes you enjoyed them as much as you had before. Sometimes you stood under the water, waiting for your skin to fall apart like paper. Like a sticker on a water bottle. Like a friendship on the fast track to Out of Time.

Meditate, yeah, hypnotized…

In the year and four months of your friendship, the most that had happened between you and Dewey was a drunk kiss that both of you half-forgot.

Anything to take it from your mind.

What you remembered was the moment you had fallen apart. It was your fault.

But it won’t…

It was your fault, and you didn’t regret it.

Go.

Your hands curled tightly around the lip of the sink.

You’re doing all these things out of desperation.

With your lips pressed into a tight line, you pushed a sigh through your nose.

You’re going through six degrees of separation.

Through rapidly blinking eyes, you saw your mug sitting beside the sink. It was wet, with a few soap bubbles clinging here and there. Good enough.

Seven minutes later, you were curled up under a fluffy blanket, on your couch, with a scalding hot cup of tea. You turned the TV on and promptly retreated into your own head. The place where your quartz pendant rested against your chest was the only cold spot on your body, and the weight of it felt like it was crushing your sternum. It was meant to keep you grounded, though, so you supposed it was doing its job.

First, you think the worst is a broken heart…

The rerun on the screen before you couldn’t distract you from it. Nothing ever could.

What’s gonna kill you is the second part.

The last time you saw Dewey Finn, you were getting lunch with him. You had rehearsed the conversation you knew you would have with him a million times.

“So I’m standing at the front of the room, looking at these kids–”

“For once.”

“–and I notice something smoking behind the backup singers.”

“Oh no.” Oh no. The pit of your stomach sank, even as you watched his bright eyes, his animated hand gestures. Dewey loved his job, the kids he taught. And you loved him.

You loved his stories, his voice, his hands and the way they danced across every instrument he played. You loved the way his hair flopped into his face, and the way the sunlight liquified his irises in his early-morning snapchats. He snapchatted you every morning so he wouldn’t go back to sleep. You loved that too – loved that he would think of you for that. That he was so comfortable with you, so open. Dewey was your favorite person, and you adored him.

“I have no idea who it was, but one of them set the drumkit on fire.”

“What?” Here, you laughed. You had to.

“The skins were on fire, I swear.” You could barely make out his words through his laughter, and over your own. You were bent forward over the table, and he leaned toward you, shaking his head. “I’m not lying.”

“Jesus…”

He straightened in his seat and slowly let his laughter fade, wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape him. “So I’m sorry I had to cancel on you last week, Rose was not happy with us.”

And, there it was. There she was.

Dewey would never get back together with her, not with the way they had left things. Even in the face of your uncertainty, your confusion when it came to him, you felt confident about that. In the grand scheme of things, however, it made almost no difference when it came to you. For all his ‘doneness’ with Rosalie, he was still using her as a shield. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a conversation with Dewey where his ex hadn’t come up.

Whether he might have had feelings for you, in this or any timeline, the fact remained that there was a principal-sized divide between your feelings and your friend, and you couldn’t see a way through it. For the longest time, you could at least see around it – you and Dewey could still be friends after you talked about it. But the more you thought about what you would actually need to say to him, the more you were forced to face the truth. The thing you knew yourself well enough to understand on the deepest level you possessed.

Without a chance – without a maybe – your friendship with Dewey had no future. You liked each other as people, you trusted each other as friends, the foundation was solid. But yours was the kind of relationship that either progressed or petered out. You couldn’t wait around for him to either process what had happened with Rosalie or realize how much you cared about him anymore. This had to stop.

“Yeah, um…about that,” you began. From there, you let it out. You spoke slowly, deliberately, trying to convince yourself – and him – that this wouldn’t be forever. That you needed to take a step back, but that it was temporary. The light in Dewey’s eyes said that he believed you, and he understood. He thanked you for talking to him about it, apologized for the distance that had begun to creep in between you, and walked you down the street in the rain before you had to part ways. You thought about asking him for a hug. You immediately thought better of it.

And the third is when your world splits down the middle.

Tonight, sitting in front of the practically muted TV with a cup of tea and a crystal crushing your sternum, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe you should have told Dewey the truth. By now, it had been two and-a-half months, and here you were, still thinking about it. Was it guilt? Was it love? You had loved him, hadn’t you? Or maybe you only thought you did, because it was so easy to believe what you were feeling was love.

On the other hand, maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was just your desire to be loved, to be wanted by someone who wasn’t a completely awful or creepy or useless person. Maybe it was relief at finding someone who actually seemed to care about being your friend, and maybe once the shock and awe of having someone in your life who genuinely wanted to be there had worn off, you got bored with the new status quo. Maybe you deserved for the crystal at your sternum to shove its cold way through your skin, through your bones, to ricochet through your whole being and tear you apart the way your heart was growing ever more convince you already were, and make real what you felt you might deserve.

Maybe you had kicked the only person you wanted to lean on when it came to all of this right off the map of your life because you were just so convinced that your relationship had been destined for more than it could ever be. Maybe you just fucked up, and now it was too late to take it back.

No.

Groaning quietly, you took a long sip of your tea, letting it warm the spot where the quartz sat. You pulled your blanket around yourself more tightly and shook the last of the darkness off, literally shaking your head. Dewey wasn’t the first person you had had these feelings about, even if you had felt the strongest about him. Stewing like this wasn’t going to help you move on, and you always moved on. There was no sense in it. You knew you had to let it go.

And fourth, you’re gonna think that you’ve fixed yourself.

It was only natural, then, that you would see him the next day.

You had gotten to the record shop first, you were confident about that much. When you first walked in, the store had been Dewey Finn-free. And yet…

“Fuck,” you breathed. He wasn’t looking at you, and you were fairly confident he hadn’t seen you at all. Dewey was a terrible actor, he was ignoring your presence too convincingly. He was standing in the next aisle, but the shelves were so low that you could see him clearly from the waist up.

You could also see the person he was with, and they were touching his arm the way you used to. The way you wished more than anything that you still could.

Fifth, you see them out with someone else.

Dewey’s…companion had their back to you, you couldn’t tell who they were, or if you even knew them. Short brown hair, black coat, delicate hand. Could have been a friend. Could have not. Either way, it didn’t matter. You had to get out of there.

All you could hear on your way to the door was the sound of your own breath. Mentally, you were kicking yourself mercilessly. You should have been able to hold your ground by now. It was over, you knew that. But the dread in your stomach and the cold at the back of your neck were pushing and pulling and shoving and tugging and screaming at you to get out of there. Your heart wouldn’t rest and it drove your breath into hyperdrive. You had to shove your hands into your coat pockets so you wouldn’t see them shaking. Your steps were jerky, throwing your usual walk into disarray and your hips into confusion. You stayed on course toward the door. And God, you had almost made it.

“Y/N?” A gentle hand caught your arm. When you jumped in surprise, your feet actually left the ground. There was no time for you to try keeping your arm loose, and you jerked it away from him. “Whoa, sorry.” Dewey held up his hands and your eyes pinged between them before settling on his face. His scruff was shorter than you remembered, but the bags under his eyes were deeper, his skin a touch grayer. “What are you–?”

“You look terrible,” you deadpanned, not letting him finish his question. Dewey tried to chuckle, but a look of frustration pinched his face and turned the sound into a huff.

“So do you. Where have you been?”

You shook your head. “Nowhere, I…” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “…I’ve just been busy.”

“Right.”

And the sixth is when you admit you may have fucked up a little.

“Really, Y/N, what’s going on? You said you’d text me, what–?” Dewey cut himself off then, realization touching his eyes. “You lied,” he murmured. You shook your head, fully aware that you looked like a butterfly who’s strayed too close to a Venus fly trap to argue its case. Dewey was prepared to catch you out, whether you were the fly he was looking for or not. Maybe you were. “You lied, you said we weren’t done.”

“I didn’t realize we would be.”

“Bullshit.” The cashier glanced at you both sharply, and you shot him a quick apologetic look before returning your eyes to Dewey.

“Can we go outside?” Though you asked, your hand was already on the door. Ten seconds later, you were standing just to the right of the door and Dewey was staring at you just as hard as he had been inside. “When I first decided to talk to you, I thought we would be fine eventually.” You paused, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t. “But yeah, once we started actually talking, I kinda knew that was it.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you or–”

“Why? You were.”

This would have been so much easier if Dewey were yelling at you. If he had been visibly angry in any way. But for the first time since you met him, his expression was closed for business. His forehead and his lip corners and the bridge his nose were all troublingly smooth. He was giving you nothing. You were afraid you were giving him much of the same. As much as you had prepared for that last talk you had with him, this felt infinitely more rehearsed. Canned. Yet you meant every word.

“No. I had feelings for you that I didn’t know what to do with, and I let them get the best of me for a while. That was unfair. But I never meant to use you or hurt you or…or anything. I just…” Now you had to look away, unable to face his unchanging expression. You shook your head again. “I fell in love with you,” you said to the brick exterior of the building beside you. “I fell in love with you, and I couldn’t stay friends with you when a part of me would be feeling that for fuck knows how long.”

Silence.

Finally, you had to risk a glance back at Dewey. Once your eyes landed on his face, you couldn’t look away again. His mouth was hanging open, just a little, just enough that you were convinced his shock was genuine. His disbelief.

“I…” It was his turn to shake his head. “I didn’t know, Y/N, I just figured–”

“Yeah, well, now you do.” Wearily, you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to shrug everything off. You couldn’t, you knew you couldn’t, but you had to try.

“You should have said so.”

“What would that have changed.”

“What–everything. It would have changed everything.”

You grimaced. “That’s not true.”

“Wha–?”

“You didn’t feel the same, Dewey, you never have. What difference would baring my soul have made when you couldn’t give me what I wanted anyway?” Dewey stared at you. He blinked once, twice. You were right, but he couldn’t say it. You gave him a short nod, feeling the tension that had filled the air between you just moments earlier suddenly disappear, shoved away by a gust of winter wind, knocking its obtrusive way down the street, around the corner, and out of sight.

This wasn’t closure, exactly. If Dewey said or did the wrong thing, you would take him back in a heartbeat. His friendship, his love – such as it could ever be – you would take it.

Oh no there ain’t no help, it’s every man for himself.

You couldn’t give him the chance.

You’re going through six degrees of separation.

“I have to go.”

“Wait.” He reached out for you, lamely pawing at the air and letting his hand drop when you stepped back.

Oh no there ain’t no help, it’s every man for himself.

“You should get back inside, it’s cold out.”

“Please don’t, I miss you.” Your brow flickered with doubt at his words. It was doubt in your own decision, you knew, but you didn’t let it take residence in your face.

You’re going through six degrees of separation.

“I miss you too,” you all but whispered. For a split second, Dewey seemed relieved. But then you took another step back, and the relief left him. “Bye.”

Oh no there ain’t no help, it’s every man for himself.

You didn’t look at him again. Hands back in your pockets, you ducked your head against the wind and scurried away, setting him down the same road you had been on for the last two and-a-half months.

Oh no there ain’t no help, it’s every man for himself.

Dewey stood alone, confused, feeling his heart slowly compressing inside his chest. He stared forward at the middle near-distance, at the spot where you had stood, at cold winter air. The air was pressing against his sternum, crushing it. His breath sped up, his heart ricocheted through his chest, pushing him in all different directions. He shouldn’t just be standing here. Yet here he was, staring at nothing and thinking about it way too hard. How could his heart be breaking like this, now, after all the time that had passed? How had he fucked up like this?

How could you just be out of his life like this?

.

.

Buy Me a Coffee

[d-criss-news]

michaelah.jpg: helperbots assemble 🤖🩵 📸 for @ maybehappyending

[datshitrandom]

Darren Criss | Late Night with Seth Meyers | Maybe Happy Ending | December 16, 2024 | 🎥 via LNSM

[na-page]

DARREN CRISS - Are you an Oliver or Claire? 🤔🤖💜 | Maybe Happy Ending | December 12, 2024 | 🎥 MHE

[eyes-like-the-night]

I got tagged by @darling-disastrous thanks hon!! ☺️❤️

You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. 

Put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs then tag ten people! No skipping! (or maybe some skipping. I’m not your dad, do what feels right)

1) You’re Gonna See The Vampires Dance- Dance of the Vampires, yes this is the bway production I literally only have this on my phone because Mandy Gonzales kills it during the beginning and then I skip the rest of the song.

2) Die Schatten Werder Langer Reprise - Elisabeth das Musical Audio from a boot of the ‘92 production

3) Einladung zum Ball - Russian cast album

4) Happiness of a moment - Master and Margarita cast album

5) Nosferatu - Dracula das musical

6) Zu Ende - Dracula das Musical

7) Phantom of the opera bonus -Moscow album

8) Challenge/prayer -Onegin audio from a bootleg

9) Tango - Master and Margarita cast album

19) Emma’s Reasons - Jekyll and Hyde OBC

Im going to tag whoever wants to do this

[susandsnell]

Hi lovely! I've been listening to the Little Shop of Horrors soundtrack all week. it's always so good, and I know it's one of your favs--have you ever gotten the chance to see it live or be involved in a performance? what kind of changes/new interpretations would you like to see in future productions?

Hi, dear! Sorry for taking time to get to this.

Good taste! Sadly, I’ve gotta answer no to both for the first question. I haven’t done theatre in years (and lack the talent and time now), and I’ve only ever seen videos of various stage productions and, of course, the movie (and multiple cast recordings). Hope that’ll change soon, but I doubt I’ll be able to catch the upcoming major revivals (Off-Bway and, more importantly, Pasadena) as they’re both limited runs quite far from where I live. 

As for changes/new interpretations, boy do I have a lot. 

Pasadena’s a good example of taking the initiative to have more racially/LGBT+ diverse casting needed for a 37-year-old musical, and adds a lot to the source material by doing so. Also, play up the Jewishness of characters other than Mushnik! While the creators were themselves Jewish and I find him a funny character, the stereotype would be a little less flagrant if he were balanced out by, say, Seymour also being explicitly Jewish (have him kiss the mezzuzah on the shop door, have articles of clothing or slight dialogue tweaks that suggest it, etc), especially since he was in the original movie! 

Also, please give us a female Seymour one day, guys. I’m begging. Give us wlw in cheesy sci-fi and horror!!! Seymour’s archetype as played by a woman would be fascinating, and the gender dynamics of the show, especially wrt Audrey and Orin, would shift dramatically. I know the show’s crosscast before and had women sing for Audrey II, so I don’t see why it can’t go for other roles! 

 I’m also big on spectacle, and with the fantastic new technology we see in stage animatronics and puppetry with shows this past season like Beetlejuice and King Kong, I’d really love to see a production that just goes for broke with their Audrey II’s. Let’s see something like the giant snake or Kong for its final form in Don’t Feed The Plants as it descends on the audience. 

And as a whole for spectacle, it’d be neat to see what modern projection-mapping and stage effects can do for other key scenes - Now (The Gas) could go full sci-fi madcap, Crystal, Ronette and Chiffon could have more quick changes or over the top entrances (including from descending platforms from above, truly fulfilling the ‘Greek Chorus’ feel of it), etc. 

And you know what? A revolving/turntable set might add a lot to the drama of the story and the pace of some of the bigger ensemble numbers - have the audience be moved through the daily hustle and bustle of Skid Row, have Act I close out by moving Seymour and Orin’s corpse slowly into the dark at the back of the stage where the gaping maw of Audrey II lies in wait while Crystal, Ronette and Chiffon move to the foreground and warn the audience of the “creepy things to be happening”. Best yet, Meek Shall Inherit - watch Seymour stand in the centre platform while the publicity figures, and indeed, the weight of his choices, swirl and swarm around him like sharks, with the trio descending and closing in the inner circle. 

I also feel like no staging ever quite gets Don’t Feed The Plants right, aside from Audrey II? Having the dead characters in flower costumes, even as an homage to the original Altman movie’s ending, is a little too silly, even by the show’s standards, and their heads popping out of the plant are a bit odd, too. I’ve seen some amateur/regional productions on Youtube that have them sing their solos somehow still alive, brandishing a bunch of Buck Rogers-esque drive-in sci-fi weapons to fight off the oncoming alien plant apocalypse, but that kind of takes the punch out of their deaths (unlike Sweeney Todd, where the dead characters are established as such from the opening and phase in and out of the narrative). Maybe do some cool undead-inside-the-plant visions with projection mapping like the undead Squip at the Be More Chill? Backlight the puppet and do silhouette work like they do for Two Ladies in Cabaret? I dunno. 

Oh, and most importantly! Stop playing Audrey’s abuse for laughs. It wasn’t funny in the 80s, and it isn’t funny now. The scenes where Orin’s berating her for not calling him “doctor” shouldn’t be framed as goofy for fear of making the audience uncomfortable, because ha-ha, her voice is squeaky or something. The stage narrative already is mad unfair to her compared to the movie’s (I prefer the happy ending, sue me), so I’d like to at least take what she’s going through a little more seriously. Also, without altering the script too much, you can easily build a stronger dynamic between her, Crystal, Ronette and Chiffon! Round out the ladies, guys. 

Thank you so much for asking! I’m sure there’s more I’m missing, but this is all I got for now!