Original caricature by Jeff York of the main cast of BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE (copyright 2024)
When I saw the original BEETLEJUICE film in the theater at a sneak preview 36 years ago, I found it be a wonderfully imaginative and well-produced funhouse of a movie. It may have been unwieldy and undisciplined from a story perspective, but the great characters, spooky/funny design aesthetics, and superb performances across the board more than made up for my questions about its inconsistent doorways to the afterlife, shifting rules for the dead, and out-of-nowhere sandworm nonsensicalness. The same can be said about this long-overdue sequel cleverly entitled BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE. (You know what the next sequel is going to be entitled, don’t you?) But three decades on, such traits are the stuff of Tim Burton’s resume, and his aesthetic feels like an elixir here compared to all the boring and predictable cookie-cutter prequels, sequels and reboots ruining Hollywood as of late. This franchise’s erraticism – its tangents, adlibs, and throw everything against the wall schtick – are now its strengths and they give this film and welcome and giddily offbeat effect from start to finish.
Winona Ryder returns as former Goth Girl Lydia Deetz, now making a living as a host of a paranormal TV show where she uses her ghost-seeing talents to help those battling haunted homes. She’s become a celebrity, lost her husband to a freak accident, has a teen daughter, and is in an odd relationship with her hands-on producer Rory (Justin Theroux). Poor Lydia is still haunted herself by visions of the specter Beetlejuice and her near-death experience of becoming his ghoulish bride. It’s one of the new movie’s funnier conceits that the rebellious teen who wholly embraced her dark side has turned into a worrywart now dreading the beyond.
Lydia doesn’t have it easy with her kid Astrid either. Her off-spring is an eye-rolling Gen Z teen who believes her mother’s visions are baloney. Astrid is played by Jenna Ortega, doing a subtle variation on the more cynical aspects of her WEDNESDAY character from the hit series on Netflix. Astrid’s acidic relationship echoes the one that Lydia had with her stepmother Delia (Catherine O’Hara) in the first film. You’ll remember that avant-garde artist Delia was nothing if not wholly self-absorbed, not exactly Lydia’s cup of witch-brewed tea. Not long into the story, Delia informs her daughter and granddaughter that her husband Charles has died so the three women, along with Rory in tow, return to the famed haunted house from the first film to pack up his belongings and hold his funeral. (Jeffrey Jones does not return in his iconic role, nor do Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin as the previous homeowners, the ghostly Barbara and Adam Maitland. They’re all missed.)
Returning in all his glory, however, is the singular Michael Keaton as the ghost with the most, and boy, does the veteran star make the most of his screen time. His Beetlejuice was more of a supporting character in the first film, but here he’s the veritable lead, getting a number of story threads criss-crossing with Lydia and Astrid, including his battle to once again marry Lydia to return to the real world, as well as fight off his vengeful ex Delores (Monica Bellucci) in the after life. Keaton’s puckish poltergeist is a hoot from start to finish and you can’t take your eyes off him when he’s in a scene. There’s a lot going on, but the film also tosses in Astrid’s budding romance with a local townie (Arthur Conti), and a subplot involving Willem Dafoe as a dead actor still playing his famous cop role in the ghost world. Yet the film never sinks under the burden. Instead, director Burton and screenwriters Alfred Gough and Miles Millar err on the side of fun over overly complex plot machinations.
Without giving away all the hilarity that you’ll want to experience without preview, suffice it to say Burton et al do repeat a number of the first film’s best bits, but it goes beyond fan service as they manage to inject some fresh trappings around the known schtick. And all the actors give it their all, even Burn Gorman as the stern-faced local minister, so it’s hard not to get caught up in the energy. Burton’s creature creations also get plenty of time to shine too, including that infamous double-headed sand worm, as well as the shrunken-head Bob whom we met in the afterlife waiting room.
One thing markedly different here, however, is a certain ghoulishness that gave the original movie much more malice. Beetlejuice was genuinely scary at times in the first film, and he even did in some worthy victims (ahem, Robert Goulet’s businessman), but here his menace is more mensch. The humor is still dark, but it’s not ever pitch black. In fact, Burton’s foray into television with the hit series WEDNESDAY feels edgier than anything he’s doing this time out here. And while Ortega can stare down anyone better this side of Aubrey Plaza, her character here isn’t nearly as dangerous as her Ms. Adams is on the show. Ortega’s a good ingenue here, but she’s never dangerous. Such homogenization isn’t a deal breaker, but I wish this sequel played it all a bit nastier.
Still, if you don’t laugh out loud during the climatic church ceremony, you might belong in the afterlife waiting room. The set piece is an absolute riot, offering up some supreme lunacy that equals most anything in the original. With Keaton, O’Hara, et al. firing on all cylinders and Burton ensuring that even the familiar tropes never overstay their welcome, this film will play as a ginormous crowd-pleaser. And here’s hoping the next sequel doesn’t take 36 years to rise from the grave.
