Burton outdoes himself with ‘Beetlejuice’ sequel

There is simply no other filmmaker like Tim Burton. The man whose imagination gave the world Edward Scissorhands, the best Batman flick ever, Ed Wood, and Corpse Bride, amongst many must-watch films, has done it again. His sequel to Beetlejuice, 36 years after the original 1988 production, is brilliant.

As sequels go, no matter what creators do, they will always be compared to a predecessor. In Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’s case, enough time has passed to almost fit in two generations, even a titbit more, many of them oblivious to the genius of the manic, trouble-making demon played closely to the bone by Michael Keaton in the first installment and reprised with the same slap-in-the-face gargle and choke hyperactivity in the second.

Talking shoowah and walking doowop

Winona Rider returns as Lydia Deetz, this time as a middle-aged mom and television psychic because so many years have passed since she last danced with Beetlejuice. She still dons the eighteenth-century clobber, but she is no longer the uppity teenager.

Instead, she’s mom, vulnerable and scarred with life. Her daughter, played by Wednesday, also known as Jenna Ortega, is a new generation of Gen Z rebellion and funk.

Of course, Lydia also has a narcissistic boyfriend who’s also her manager. He talks shoowah, walks dooowop, but believes only in money and self-love. Dysfunction, but Burton style.

Willem Dafoe does a great star-turn

A family tragedy draws everyone back to the Deetz family home where Beetlejuice first made his ascent, or descent, depending on how you look at it. It’s the curtain raiser to a whole host of plots and sub-plots. Beetlejuice sees the family gathering as an opportunity to finally wed Lydia through to the underworld, as in the world of the dead. The investigation is led by a gloriously funny and eccentric Willem Dafoe as a police inspector.

Then, there’s Mrs Deetz, Lydia’s mom, who adds a whole boatload of colour and frilly hilarity in hot pursuit of her eccentricity. In between this, Monica Bellucci’s body parts are split from a few boxes in janitor Danny de Vito’s storeroom. The hapless cleaner trips and spills, knocking Bellucci’s body part storage boxes over and, in Addams Family style, she puts herself back together again. Stapled and mad as a hatter. She sucks the soul out of De Vito’s wonderful cameo before going on a hunt to find Beetlejuice because the demon ditched her at the altar.

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In between all this, Ortega falls hopelessly for a boy in her mom’s old neighbourhood. The trouble is, he’s a ghost, murdered his parents and now, after swapping out souls, she’s his target because he wants to get back to being alive.

True Tim Burton style

In true Tim Burton style, the bizarre and macabre are made beautiful in a morbidly fantastical manner. Elements of previous Burton films are scattered throughout, and if you are a fan, you’ll recognise them instantly.

Think Frankenweenie, Corpse Bride, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children and Sleepy Hollow. You’ll find them all here if you watch carefully. It’s little bits of breadcrumbs, and it makes watching the movie so much more enjoyable.

The soundtrack is equally as whack as the first film. The Bee Gees wail about one thing while on-screen; it bebops to another beat. Eery atmospherics are dotted everywhere, and the director’s trademark pale-to-colour to washed-out visuals create mood, not subtly at all, but in your face and brash. Burton wants audiences to experience his imagination just like he does.

The 1988 edition of Beetlejuice was Burton’s third feature. Since then, the library of his sublime filmmaking has grown exponentially. And while some critics have slammed the movie because it recycles some ideas and notions from the first film, well, get a grip. It’s a sequel with the same narrative but a different starting point.

Filmmaking is not about winning a Nobel Prize. It’s about entertainment. And Beetlejuice Beetlejuice serves it up in generous measure.

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