Beetlejuice Beetlejuice…
My oddity need not be your problem.
It’s one of those old movies that you must see. At least once. Just so you don’t come off as ignorant when the crowds you like to mix with quote it. I grew up on ‘old’ comedy, on vaudeville and abstraction. On nonsense and circus. The very first time, I watched Beetlejuice out of a sense of obligation.
All the other times, I just couldn’t tear myself away.
When I heard they were making a sequel after thirty-five years, I admit I was apprehensive. When have sequels ever been a good thing? Especially after so long. Especially after the story was over. Except that’s the beauty of nonsense worlds — the story need never be over. As Tim Burton so gracefully proves with this latest offering.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice picks up in modern times, yet in other ways, it feels like not a day’s gone by in Winter River. Sure, Lydia Deetz has grown up, the Maitlands have absconded into some unmentioned after-afterlife, and Monica Bellucci’s a mix-and-match, attractive-like-all-get-out zombie bride. But it’s more or less business as usual for Michael Keaton’s Beetlegeuse (and what more do we really need?).
