He’s back, baby.
Before Michael Keaton was Batman, he was Beetlejuice.
In Tim Burton’s 1988 film of the same name, Keaton portrayed the titular ghoul; a lecherous, foul-mouthed “bio-exorcist” hired by the recently deceased Maitlands (played by Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis) to scare away the new occupants of their home. However, instead of focusing on his job, Beetlejuice becomes infatuated with the teenage goth Lydia (played by Winona Ryder) and schemes to make her his bride.
Burton’s sophomore film, following his inspired director-for-hire work on Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, showcased his now-signature blend of creepy and whimsical, with a macabre sense of humor. Now, over three decades later, the Maitlands might have moved on (actors age, but ghosts don’t), but much of the original gang returns.
Lydia, now a middle-aged celebrity ghost hunter, is tormented by the undead and stuck in a relationship with Rory (Justin Theroux), her clingy, New Age-y producer. Lydia’s daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega) refuses to return her calls, her stepmother Delia (Catherine O’Hara) remains as self-absorbed as ever, and her father Charles… well, death is central to any Beetlejuice story.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice marks Burton’s return to the director’s chair after 2019’s Dumbo. The film reportedly revitalized the 66-year-old, giving him more creative freedom than he had while working with Disney – can you imagine it. However, the screenplay by Alfred Gough and Miles Millar feels formulaic, with more effort seemingly spent on keeping certain characters in the story without the need or certain actors (SPOILER1).
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice introduces a host of new characters – Willem Dafoe as B-list action star turned hardboiled ghost cop, Monica Bellucci as a vengeful Frankenstein/Corpse Bride hybrid – and expands the role of the Afterlife. However, this crowded narrative, of which the film’s poster is a clear indicator, often prioritises logistics over relationships. There are some clever details, like Beetlejuice running a bio-exorcist boiler room staffed by shrunken heads, but these touches remain in the background.
The cast is fully committed. Keaton sleazes back into the striped suit with ease, Ortega delivers a solid performance as a slightly more normal version of her Wednesday Addams character (from the Gough-Millar-produced Netflix series), and Theroux mines laughs from the pathetic and insincere Rory. However, Ryder’s Lydia feels somewhat diminished, worn down by life; like Rocky Balboa without the head trauma.
A subtitled black-and-white flashback to Beetlejuice’s origins, inspired by Mario Bava, hints at the untapped potential of the film. But after 36 years,2Burton’s once-charming aesthetic has become a brand – maybe even a cliché. The practical effects that were innovative back then now feel dated, with some moments reminiscent of The Mask, itself thirty years old, rather than something fresh. Even a singalong to Richard Harris’s “MacArthur Park,” while visually striking, feels a bit too safe. It’s telling that the biggest laugh from the audience came from a nod to the original film.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is fine. It’s “More Beetlejuice“, for better or worse. It’s a legacy sequel, but without the heart or originality of the first. Say what you will about the abandoned Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian concept, at least it would have been something different.
- Nobody has ever been more in a film more than Jeffrey Jones is not in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.
- In the case of the 72-year-old Keaton, literally half a lifetime.
