`SHOP OF HORRORS' NEEDS A LITTLE PRUNING.

Byline: Evan Henerson Theater Critic

Then again, maybe size is overrated.

Not for Audrey II, of course. Perish the thought. In order to entertain venues with capacity of the Ahmanson Theatre, the bloodthirsty plant of ``Little Shop of Horrors'' needed to grow and grow and grow some more. And so it has come to pass that the leafy menace created by Martin P. Robinson and the Jim Henson Company has reached the dimensions of a storage locker and can now extend slowly - and, truth be told, rather phallically - over the first few rows of the audience. Quite a puppet, that.

Yes, ``Two-ey'' has grown, and the musical has expanded with it. ``Little Shop's'' touring production, closing out the Ahmanson season through Oct. 16, occupies the house with all the bells and whistles: Scott Pask's mock horror-esque scenery, Donald Holder's lighting, the musical arrangements of Michael Kosarin and big bad Audrey II, the production's undisputed star.

Not gone, but certainly muffled amid the Broadway bombast, is the piece's underground subversiveness. Composer Alan Menken and author/lyricist Howard Ashman created ``Little Shop'' to be a kind of low-budget spoof of campy B-horror flicks as, indeed, the original Roger Corman film was. Granted, this is a show about a Venus flytrap with world domination on its agenda, but the effects were supposed to be on the cheesy side.

Listen - preferably unencumbered - to the soundtrack, to the rousing ``hopes and dreams'' anthem ``Downtown'' or to the wickedly comic ``Dentist!'' Listen to Tari Kelly's soiled heroine Audrey (for whom the plant is named) singing about her domestic ambitions in ``Somewhere That's Green.'' With ``Little Shop,'' Menken and his late partner Ashman - before their Disney days - turned out a smartly vicious little piece that thrives on a smaller scale. Big-ify the voices, the amplification and all the external trappings, and matters get a little more over the top than they probably need to be.

Director Jerry Zaks has left some things properly in place both for Broadway and the tour. The small cast, most notably. As polished as all the leading performances certainly are, there's nobody more skilled than James Moye, who breezes his way through the sadistic dentist Orin Scrivello, a bewitched flower shop customer, an agent and ``everyone else.'' The doo-wop Greek chorus trio of Chiffon (Yasmeen Sulieman), Crystal (Amina S. Robinson) and Ronnette (LaTonya Holmes) are marvelous as well.

For those who never saw the play or either movie (Frank Oz directed the 1986 musical version), there's a sad sack florist named Seymour (Anthony Rapp) who, when not worshipping shop mate Audrey, is experimenting with interesting and unusual new plants. Falling practically into his lap is the fast-blooming Audrey II, whose growth and fame turn Seymour into a celebrity. Small problem: The plant lives off human blood, requiring our hero to become a murderer. Not that there aren't people in ``Little Shop'' who are desperately in need of offing. Most notably Audrey's boyfriend, the aforementioned Orin.

Did I mention that ``Little Shop'' is a comedy? It is. A dark and broad one. The plant - both small and big - gets plenty of laughs, and Michael James Leslie's voice work for Audrey II is sassy and bullying.

Everything about this production is smooth and efficient. The jokes fall right where you'd expect them to land. The visuals are engaging, often arresting, and Rapp, Kelly and Lenny Wolpe as shop owner Mushnik are all in strong voice.

Still, here's hoping ``Little Shop'' gets a speedy return to its more modest roots, where small-housed, semiprofessional theaters can blitz audiences as much with the musical's source material as with the giant plant.

Evan Henerson, [phone]

evan.henerson(at)dailynews.com

LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS - Two and one half stars

Where: Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N. Grand Ave., Los Angeles.

When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Sundays; through Oct. 16.

Tickets: $25 to $80. Call [phone].

In a nutshell: When bigger isn't necessarily better.