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Because we live in an era of reboots and lega-sequels where nothing is sacred, everyone knew we’d eventually get a new Beetlejuice film.
The original movie is one of my favorites with a great blend of humor and weirdness that makes it feel unique. In the vein of Gremlins or Ghostbusters, it’s that special kind of movie that could be successful in an era before movie theaters were on life support: a fun, creative, PG-rated idea that could appeal to everyone without dumbing down for anyone.
On top of that, it was during the golden era of Tim Burton when his visual style and quirky storytelling seemed to be in perfect balance. The stop motion! The German Expressionism! The slightly subversive humor with an undercurrent of heart. These are present in Beetlejuice and many of my other Burton faves like Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, Edward Scissorhands, Ed Wood, and his two Batman films.
So despite not wanting the inevitable Beetlejuice sequel, I was cautiously optimistic when it was announced that Burton would return alongside key members of the original cast Winona Ryder, Catherine O’Hara, and of course Michael Keaton.
Even though the trailer did the cliche of the slowed-down version of a familiar song, I figured this movie had more potential than something like Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire or Twisters because at least we’d have the visual style of Burton.
This story sees Lydia Deetz (Ryder) as a popular TV show host who has sold out her supernatural abilities for money and fame—a weird choice, but okay. She’s dating (?) her manager, played by Justin Theroux, and has an outcast daughter named Astrid (Jenna Ortega) from a previous relationship with a wonderful guy who is now deceased—but, for some reason, not visible to her.
Her mother Delia (O’Hara) is a famous artist who moved from sculpture to performance art and still misses her own deceased husband (the appropriately absent Jeffrey Jones).
At the same time, everyone’s favorite “ghost with the most” (Keaton) is running a little business in the afterlife and lamenting not getting to marry Lydia. And for some reason, he’s also being tracked down by a soul-sucking ex (Monica Bellucci) who is herself being tracked down by a former actor turned afterlife detective (Willem Dafoe).
If that seems like way too many storylines, that’s because it is. To call the story by Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, and Seth Grahame-Smith a mess is to be generous.
This movie strays so far from the core idea of the original with so many characters and so many flat jokes that it ends up feeling much more like a generic Disney or Nickelodeon Halloween movie than the fresh and inventive fun of Beetlejuice.
The characters are more of a collection of references to things we’ve seen before than actual characters. A sleazy TV producer that probably would have been played by Phil Hartman if this film was made 30 years ago? How creative. A goth teenager who pouts and laments that her mom doesn’t understand her. So fresh. Astrid even dates a boy (Arthur Conti) she soon discovers is a ghost from the ‘90s. So basically Tate Langdon from the first season of American Horror Story.
Keaton and O’Hara do their best to try to save this movie and Burton’s visual style is a slight saving grace, but I felt myself getting increasingly disappointed as the generic plot chugged along.
We get catchphrases, we get “hold for applause” moments that didn’t garner more than a light chuckle from the audience at my screening, we get repetitive jokes (Soul Train. Get it? Soul Train), we even get a musical sequence set to “MacArthur Park” that attempts to capture the fun of the “Day-O” scene but severely overstays its welcome.
So even though the director and the core original cast return, the uniqueness and creativity are absent. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice only serves as an example that the first film was lightning in a bottle and, as the song says, we’ll never have that recipe again.
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