The Juice is Loose (Again): "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice"
Tim Burton is back with another visit to his quirky, intricately designed comic horror universe.
BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE
104 minutes; PG-13
Critic’s Grade: B+
Where to watch: In theaters
Tim Burton’s “Beetlejuice,” released way back in 1988, was a haunted house horror comedy of the highest order, characterized by quirky, unexpectedly gruesome creature effects, surprise scares and giddy musical montages, including a memorable dinner-table sequence set to Harry Belafonte’s “Banana Boat (Day-O).”
Largely driven by the madcap antics of an over-the-top Michael Keaton as the title character, a ghostly villain who was alternately frightening and amusingly looney tunes, the movie — Burton’s second directorial effort, following “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure” — was refreshingly out there and whimsical, a real blast. It still feels that way.
Making a sequel to such a one-of-a-kind film is always a risky proposition. How do you capture the spirit of the original and expand on the story, attracting new audiences without disappointing longtime fans of the first movie?
Burton, with the help of Keaton, other original cast members and several new players, mostly accomplishes that mission with “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,” effectively reanimating the vibe of its predecessor if perhaps overloading the frequently unwieldy narrative with one too many subplots.
Time’s march — 36 years! — is reflected by the ages of the characters, and the actors who portray them: Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder), once the sullen goth teen, is now a largely neglectful middle-aged mom to a sulking goth girl of her own, Astrid (Jenna Ortega, of television’s “Wednesday” and two “Scream” films). Lydia spends her days as a famous “psychic mediator,” starring as the host of a paranormal-themed reality TV show called “Ghost House,” in collaboration with her clueless New Age-y producer/boyfriend (Justin Theroux, fully game for the role). Astrid doesn’t buy her mom’s stories about those long-ago encounters with the dead. “I only believe in things that I can see,” the teenager says.
And Lydia’s annoying, pretentious stepmother Delia (the always reliable Catherine O’Hara) has gained success as some type of performance artist, with a gallery show titled “The Human Canvas.”
Several passages, in a break from the ‘88 production, are a bit reminiscent of a blend of Spielberg and Stephen King scenes; they’re nicely warm and fuzzy, with a touch of menace. The fictional village of Winter River, Conn., location of the family homestead to which Delia and Lydia return, this time with Astrid in tow, gets the burnished mid-fall treatment — autumn leaves in beautiful shades, covered bridges, American flags, pumpkins, kids on bicycles, parents in festive sweaters, and Halloween decorations. This Floridian is a bit envious.
The story, though, is largely set inside the aforementioned house, which serves as a portal to a trippy, partly familiar underworld. It’s home to demonic prankster Beetlejuice; a just-back-from-the-dead, soul-sucking corpse bride (Monica Bellucci) who was once married to Beetlejuice; shrunken-head dude Bob, who sports striped fashions a la Beetlejuice; a one-time TV tough guy (Willem Dafoe) now working as a detective; various freshly dead arrivals, including a pair of shark attack victims, one headless and one absent a body below the waist; and even some members of the lead characters’ family. A serial killer also figures into the goings-on.
The music-injected passages — an a cappella version of “Banana Boat,” at a gravesite; a salute to TV’s old “Soul Train,” at a train station; a huge production of Jimmy Webb-penned ‘60s hit “MacArthur Park,” complete with a giant cake left in the rain, at a church — are loads of fun. Although one wonders whether those numbers will resonate with anyone under about 50.
By the same token, there are numerous quick-hit pop culture nods — to the likes of late football star turned murderer O.J. Simpson and the 1993 Tommy Lee Jones thriller “The Fugitive,” among others — that are similarly long in the tooth. Those references, while amusing, feel a bit lazy and self-indulgent on Burton’s part.
The new film, like “Beetlejuice,” benefits from an anything-goes approach as well as perpetually busy visuals and sight gags informed by the director’s typically idiosyncratic sense of color and design. It’s simultaneously gloomy but color soaked, another fractured fairy tale, Burton-style, that inevitably isn’t as sneakily subversive as the first adventure in this particular universe.
Not that I’d reveal the spoilers anyway, but the plot machinations matter less than the overall surreal experience created by a now-mature director who appears to be thoroughly enjoying revisiting one of his greatest hits. Best just to jump on Mr. Burton’s Wild Ride, hang on and enjoy the funny, sort of psychedelic trip.
Copyright 2024 by Philip Booth. All rights reserved.