A terrific trifle of a film, a squealing sequel, a sprawling celebration of the original with some audacious new moves including a MacArthur Park lip sync symphony worth the price of admission.
You can’t help but love and laugh at Michael Keaton doing his sticky spectral shtick and then there’s scene stealing Willem DaFoe looking like he’s turned up for a Wes Anderson movie and having fantastic fun as deceased actor, Wolf Jackson, whose claim to fame in life was playing a hard boiled detective and in the afterlife he plays the role for real.
Catherine O’Hara drolly daffy as the ditzy Delia Deetz and Winona Ryder also returns as Lydia. Widowed and mother of a teenage daughter herself, played by Jenna Ortega, conditions combine and conspire for the sleazy zombie to resurface and cause havoc for this new generation.
After an unexpected family tragedy, three generations of the Deetz family return home to Winter River. Still haunted by Beetlejuice, Lydia’s life is turned upside down when her rebellious teenage daughter, Astrid, discovers the mysterious model of the town in the attic and the portal to the Afterlife is accidentally opened.
With trouble brewing in both realms, it’s only a matter of time until someone says Beetlejuice’s name three times and the mischievous demon returns to unleash his very own brand of mayhem.
Monica Bellucci brings a monstrous beauty to the stitched up soul sucker, Delores, and Justin Theroux is suitably slimy as Lydia’s faux woke fiance, Rory.
BEETLEJUICE, BEETLEJUICE is a spooky, kooky collage of a film, that mostly hits and occasionally misses, with Tim Burton throwing a lot of stuff off the wall and through the ceiling, targeting funny bones and tickling ribs and a sly cerebral humour stalking the laugh response.
Visually striking, it could well match the original with a Best Make Up Oscar.
Will there be a Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice? If it’s as entertaining as BEETLEJUICE,BEETLEJUICE, bring it on.
