Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024) - Tim Burton’s sequel is a gory feast for the eyes (and the memories)
Credit: allocine.fr
It’s only taken thirty six years for Tim Burton to get round to Beetlejuice the second – and how thrilling it is that he has. His new flick, featuring half of the original cast and a new set of, albeit, rather familiar faces, is a joy to behold, full of the first one’s slapstick dark humour and strange (but celebrated) dance sequences. Does it quite live up the original? Perhaps not. But it’s witty, stylish and does a lot more of what its predecessor did so well – in other words, it has a heck of a lot of juice.
Three decades after her almost-wedding, Lydia Deetz is now a supernatural TV talk show host, estranged from her daughter Astrid and only half-invested in her relationship with Rory (Justin Theroux), a producer and world class schmuck. When stepmother Delia (now the host of an interactive piece of performance art at a Soho gallery) announces her father Charles has died in a tragic shark attack, the family is forced home to Winter River, where Lydia must revisit her past and, most hideously, the very ghost – or “bio-exorcist” – that tried to marry her many years ago and left her so traumatised.
At the core of the sequel is naturally the original trio, on top form once again – Winona Ryder is as strange as Catherine O’Hara is dramatic, and Michael Keaton’s ability to slip back into the role like it was only yesterday they wrapped filming for the first is nothing short of exceptional. Jenna Ortega as Astrid is a welcome addition to the Burton School of the Weird and Wonderful – following her roles in Wednesday and the Scream saga, as well as her commentary off screen that she enjoys playing ‘strange’ characters, the casting of the twentieth first century’s most popular scream queen seems almost an obvious choice. Amid the afterlife’s waiting room, Danny DeVito as a deceased janitor who drinks bleach as a pastime, and a picturesque shot of the original house draped in black mourning sheets, there is also, of course, a “forced dance sequence” – MacArthur Park does not quite live up to Day-O (if you know, you know), but considering the latter has become such a cult scene, this is simply Burton giving us the next best thing after his unapproachable original.
Between Lydia, Astrid and the infamous Betelgeuse, what Burton’s sequel does suffer from however is a case of too many storylines, designed so to incorporate its array of new faces. Though this does not make or break the film, there is a sense of something unfinished, incomplete as a result – Monica Bellucci as Betelgeuse’s soul-sucking ex-wife for instance is as amusing as it is unnecessary, while William Dafoe’s afterlife detective feels rather redundant (in both senses of the word). But then again, just as Bellucci pieces parts of her body back together, who ever said a selection of plots couldn’t simply be stapled together too, if only for a little bit of fun? In all honesty, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice does, in the end, seem to be ‘just for fun’ – too many plot lines? Don’t take it seriously, it’s just a bit of fun. Betelgeuse opening his jacket and quite literally ‘spilling his guts’ while posing as a therapist? It’s just a little bit of fun. Justin Theroux’s man bun? It’s just for fun. And believe me, you will have lots of it.