Vintage ‘Beetlejuice’ Squeezes Out a Tasty “Boo”-jolais

Hollywood invests too often in creating sequels of earlier successes. If a brand still has value, who would leave money on the table? Cinematic history has proven that re-crafting sequels offers poor odds. For example, how well were audiences rewarded with Caddyshack II or the update to The Blue Lagoon? Yet, with certain genres—like Indiana Jones or Ocean’s 11—lovers of heist films will go to weird and exotic places, trusting that, wherever they’re taken, they’ll be treated to their favorite and familiar old wine. Thirty-six years after his original premiered, Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice Beetlejuice has uncorked another ghoulish “chase for the prize” caper. And we are promised repeatedly it’s been made from the same classic grapes; Michael Keaton, Winona Ryder and, most delightfully, Catherine O’Hara have all returned to the same old vineyard. But has this bottle of red improved?  Has the wine aged well?  And just what are we tasting here?

Well, there’s that familiar hint of bananas, a touch of wedding cake, a tinge of (sand) worm oil, and a lot of welcome nuttiness. If these were the flavors of the original release, then devotees of the 1988 escapade will not be disappointed. Newcomers should give it a taste, too.

Dark, dark, dark

The new story opens with the former ingénue, Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder), still sporting her Goth tastes and spiked bangs, bemoaning her current fate as the tired host of a TV show about haunted houses. Her smarmy producer Rory (Justin Theroux) insists his love for her has nothing to do with opportunity, and speaks only in self-serving platitudes of devotion; he demands they get married before Lydia moves on—or loses—her career. Except, suddenly––presented by means of claymation––Lydia’s father almost dies in a plane crash at sea, only then to be half-eaten by a shark. Which means her Mom, Delia Deetz (Catherine O’Hara,) must re-open the horrid mansion that sits atop the town of Winter River to hold her husband’s funeral. But first the two women must retrieve Lydia’s daughter, Astrid (Jenna Ortega), from her boarding school. Astrid hates her mother, shrugs the loss of her often-absent father, yet finds adoring comfort in Grandma. And while the detached Deetz family re-assembles for the funeral, Rory is determined to have his wedding, too. Disgusted by the thought, Astrid escapes on bicycle and bumps into a cute boy (Arthur Conti) who, without giving anything away, hides a very dark secret.

Weird, weird, weird

OK, now, that’s just what’s happening in the “living” world.  Interspersed throughout the reintroduction of Delia and Lydia, and subliminal to a shallow exposition of Astrid’s young life, the underworld is meanwhile threatened by the accidental re-emergence or, rather, re-stapled body parts—of Delores (Monica Bellucci) who, as it’s told, was hacked to pieces when married to the “ghost with the most,” Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton, of course.) Delores has a talent for sucking the truth out of immortal souls and she is determined to serve revenge on her ex, who now appears to run the dark world, assisted by shrunken-headed ghouls like “Bob” and heroic, but stiff-as-his-Smith-and-Wesson, actor Wolf Jackson (Willem Dafoe).

Okay, yes, there’s a lot going on. And, although seemingly complicated, the plot, while amped (as in amphetamines) with song & dance, sight gags galore, and freakish characters seemingly created just to fill up the waiting rooms of hell, moves forward without a care. This is craziness, after all.  And the more, the merrier. Just bring it on. You want weird? Wait for the wedding scene.   

Catherine O’Hara, Catherine O’Hara, Catherine O’Hara

Michael Keaton, of course, returns with as much bombast as his character commanded in the original. He’s no less subdued, but much of the Groucho Marx schtick he spewed 36 years ago is missing. Seldom does he break “the fourth wall” in this comic romp, but he’s still a joy to behold. Winona Ryder, now more motherly than moody, must make choices as memorable and macabre as she did when younger. Here, she motivates most of the mayhem. Sadly, Willem Dafoe is wasted in a character completely unnecessary to the action. And, no fault of her own, Monica Bellucci (former Italian model and Tim Burton’s “partner”) plays the singular dimension of a furious widow.

But then, there’s Catherine O’Hara. She makes her every scene a masterclass in playing the simple-minded mensch. Given to creative pursuits, her character is clueless to the value of talent or, for that matter, the tragic timing of life-changing events. Not the brightest bulb on the marquee, boy, does she shine!

Tim, Tim, Tim

If there’s any fault in being a director auteur, a title Burton can claim and deserve, it may be found in the dangers of collaborative scriptwriting. Clearly, with Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, some “Moses” of moviemakers (was it Burton himself?) came down from the mountain and decreed that every memorable moment from the original film had to reappear in the sequel. Day-O (The Banana Boat Song), animated Saharan sand worms, visually repetitive black and white stripes, awful, “Dad-joke” puns, and, not one, but many shrunken-head “Bobs” are all shoe-horned into this re-adventure. The opportunity to create anything wildly new and beyond seems to have been squeezed out of multiple draft cycles. And, perhaps to a lesser offense, some of the sight gags and one-liners just fall flat. Yet, there is so much to follow and enjoy, the odds of every joke hitting its mark is as likely as a Hollywood sequel claiming “top box-office” on its opening weekend. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice just did. Does that matter? If the wine is fine, fill your cup!

Images courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures.

C. Prentiss Orr is a Pittsburgh-based writer who covers film, live theater, and other topics for Entertainment Central. He is the author of the books The Surveyor and the Silversmith and Pittsburgh Born, Pittsburgh Bred.

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