★★★

They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Did they ever? If convention dictates that the average movie ought to follow at least some form of logical progression, the answer can only be no. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice – the rather marvellously titled follow up to 1988’s original ‘juice – is as zany an offering as anything in the Tim Burton catalogue to date, and all the better for it. All the better and, in a great many number of ways, the worse. Certainly, there’s nothing here to ingratiate newcomers nor win over the original skeptics. Put simply, Beetlejuice doubled is just as puerile, unfocused and weird as its forebear, and no less reliant on the talents of its gloriously gothic cast ensemble to tether its grounding.

More cult classic than one of the stone cold variety, the original Beetlejuice was only Burton’s second film on release. Looking back, it’s terribly familiar stuff from the director, all deep set exaggerations and thrillingly practical in its delivery of staccato stylistic approach. How easy it is to forget that this was once a bold new vision for comic horror from a dynamic new cinematic voice. Thirty-six years later, it’s a meaner feat to try and sell Burton’s madcap box of tricks as fresh. Certainly, from Dark Shadows to Dumbo, Burton has seemed to struggle of late to capture the imaginations of audiences and critics alike. 

To this end, there is something rather creditable in Burton’s approach to Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. A legacy sequel if ever one was, this second Beetlejuice burns a touch less exclusively on the fuel of nostalgia than most, boasting a narrative that, though wildly overstuffed, demonstrates a desire to try something new with the franchise. Such is not to say Burton’s return to Winter River, its model realm and those beyond the pale, is not doused in fond reminiscence. The opening shots alone, tuned to a familiar Danny Elfman vintage, recall Burton’s heyday with a rush of wist-filled warmth. Even as the plot diverts from familiarity, there are nods to concepts, visuals and verbatim straight from the original. Never mind the returning cast, a stronger presence for Burton’s shrunken headed stiffs proves a thrill.

As before, it is Winona Ryder who provides the film’s beating heart, reprising the role of once gothic teenager Lydia Deetz. No longer a teen, but no less gothic, Lydia now makes a living as a psychic mediator for the paranormal reality TV show ‘Ghost House’. She’s more fragile now, more brittle and less self-assured. ‘Where’s that obnoxious goth girl who tortured me?’ decries step mum Delia (Catherine O’Hara). Tortured herself, it would seem. Lest we forget, Lydia sees dead people. She has a daughter now too. This is Jenna Ortega’s Astrid, a part not so far removed from Wednesday Addams or Scream’s Tara Carpenter but exquisitely done. Also on the scene is Justin Theroux’s instantly unlikeable Rory – Lydia’s new age producer boyfriend. As for her father, concerns of problematic casting are quickly assuaged by the film’s funniest sequence, a stop-motion interlude that leaves Charles Deetz semi-mauled by a claymation shark. 

It’s Charles’ death that draws the trigenerational family back to Winter River, the three women united in death and for a funeral at the old Maitland haunt. On which matter, Beetlegeuse awaits. A beefier part for Michael Keaton does only to ramp up the kooky, his irking Robin Williams schtick reprised with impressive accuracy. There’s always been a sense with this one that the part, all fanfare and zany energy, really ought to feel more iconic. Perhaps, for some, it is. Still hellbent on securing Lydia for his bride, Beetlegeuse has his own subplot to contend with this time around – there are many of these. A wicked introduction for spurned former spouse, Delores (Monica Bellucci), sees the bridezilla staple her dissected body parts back together and soul suck a cameoing Danny DeVito into flat pack. She’s cold on his case.

More and more Burton ladles into his soupy seconds. The fun is frenetic but anticlimactic, each wormy threat wrapped up without a hint of heft. They just end. And yet, if it’s hard to imagine a film like Beetlejuice catching light in the modern arena, it’s all too easy to envision Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, a well cast and timely sequel, performing just swell. An aversion to computer generation lends the film’s effects a pleasingly homespun aesthetic, while tip top music boosts the fairground vibes. A third spin of the big wheel feels unlikely now but you just never know when it comes to bioexorcism.

T.S.