Some Fringe transfers look hopelessly dwarfed by their new West End homes; watching this exuberant production of Little Shop of Horrors, you wonder how it ever squeezed into the tiny Menier Chocolate Factory. Like Audrey II, the murderous plant with fearsome ambitions, the show has expanded boldly and energetically. Mushnik's florists and Orin's dental practice unfurl from the wings like virulent foliage; in between, designer David Farley evokes all the filth and desperation of the poorest gutter in a big, heartless town.
Emerging from this destitution, the cast have the larger-than-life quality of cartoons - not least the bequiffed bad-girl chorus, who seem to have arrived on stage straight from John Waters' cult camp movie Hairspray. The one new performer for the West End, Alistair McGowan, enters into this effervescent spirit with undisguised glee: his sadistic dentist is shamelessly self-adoring, sleazily aping Elvis's pelvic thrusts, then ripping open his shirt to fondle his chest. If McGowan's motley collection of television producers and magazine editors in the second act are slightly less successful, it's only because they're more buttoned-up.
Elsewhere, it's the details that make this such a charming production. Lynne Page's crafty choreography tempers the most saccharine lyrics by marrying them to raunchy moves. Although too loud at times, the band impressively handle the shifts from 1950s doo-wop to dirtier 1970s funk. And there's lovely work from Mike McShane, the molasses-rich voice of Audrey II, sneakily sliding from dulcet to needling to monstrously arrogant. It's remarkable that two shows with puppetry at their heart should be on the same West End street simultaneously; like Avenue Q, Little Shop is kooky, irresistibly feel-good and deserves to run and run.
· Until June 2. Box office: 0870 040 0046.
