I had never seen the original Beetlejuice until preparing for this double-sized sequel, but it is an absolute blast. The story is refreshingly simplistic about a recently deceased couple Adam and Barbara Maitland (Alec Baldwin, Geena Davis) haunting their old house to get rid of its new occupants with the help of the unhinged demonic bio-exorcist Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton). The film represents director Tim Burton at the height of his powers and never allows exposition, or complete sense, to get in the way of its unbridled fun. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, now arriving 36 years later, is a bit more sprawling, a bit more ramshackle, and certainly less taught than its predecessor, but it continues to prove a silly delight.
The film dispenses with Baldwin and Davis entirely, with one passing line referring to their convenient absence, and instead focuses firmly on Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) the goth child who could see the dead in the original. She is now all grown up, yet sporting the same bob, and putting her medium skills to use in a television career with her producer-boyfriend and repugnant slim ball Rory (Justin Theroux). Lydia is now settled in her relationship with her avant-garde exhibitionist mother-in-law Delia (played in wonderful returning form by Catherine O’Hara) but estranged from her own daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega) who believes her mother is a sham. However, the tragic death of Lydia’s father Charles, which is not so tragic considering the now disgraced actor who played him, forces them back together and to the town of Winter River for his funeral.
In truth, the film embarks on about four different plotlines all at once, none of which are fully thought through and are all somewhat, but not really, tied up by the time the credits roll. One thread involving Monica Bellucci’s Delores could be removed entirely without changing a line of remaining dialogue or plot and it would make zero difference. It feels as if the writers couldn’t think of a satisfying reason to say Beetlejuice’s name three times and continue his story, which paradoxically is why it is so enjoyable. Rather than weighing things down with lore or the idea of a legacy sequel, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice unburdens itself from all that and acts entirely in the name of fun.
No one is having more fun than Burton himself who appears energised after making a series of flattened and uninspired pictures at the House of Mouse. His unique, twisty, macabre style feels once again brought to life in three-dimensional technicoloured clay. There is creativity and innovation to the design and set pieces, including a couple of musical numbers, we have not seen from him in a long time. This is the world he created, and it is the sandbox he was born to play in. Yes, Bellucci is entirely superfluous, but she also makes for a stunningly gaunt corpse bride and provides a great visual of her stapling her body back together. Does Willem Dafoe’s deceased actor-turned-underworld cop have any discernible effect on the plot? No, but he looks great and gives us a couple of laughs. Does it make sense that a character would need to get on a train to go to an afterlife they are already in? Again no, but it leads to a good pun and some soul music.
It’s messy and doesn’t quite live up to the original, but Beetlejuice Beetlejuice makes for a wonderful, autumnal, ghoulish treat.