A review for the previously released.
There’s possibly no better way to introduce Beetlejuice than with the immortal line, “It’s showtime!” A fitting proclamation from a film that blends chaos and comedy with the grim subject of the afterlife, where the living are the ones overstaying their welcome. In Tim Burton’s iconic horror-comedy, the afterlife isn’t peaceful; it’s a hellish tedium of bureaucracy and paperwork.
After their sudden death, Adam (Alec Baldwin) and Barbara Maitland (Geena Davis) find themselves trapped in their home as ghosts. Their peaceful afterlife is disrupted when the eccentric Deetz family moves in, led by the artistic Delia (Catherine O’Hara), her husband Charles (Jeffrey Jones), and their goth daughter Lydia (Winona Ryder). Unable to scare away the unwanted inhabitants, the Maitlands seek the help of a rogue bio-exorcist, Betelgeuse (Michael Keaton). Chaos ensues as they learn that summoning Beetlejuice is much easier than getting rid of him.
What really sets Beetlejuice apart is its exploration of the afterlife. The film is essentially a reverse haunted house story—where it’s the ghosts who are haunted by the living—delivering a fresh twist on traditional horror tropes. Burton’s world-building – one of the key factors that keeps the movie feeling fresh and relevant decades after its initial release – is a macabre delight, from the bureaucratic limbo of death to the bizarre characters inhabiting it. The film’s creatively cartoonish special effects and offbeat designs cement Burton’s style as distinctive and inimitable. The performances, particularly Keaton’s frenetic turn as Beetlejuice, add wild energy to the film, his bio-exorcist-for-hire unpredictable, vulgar, and utterly captivating, making the character both repellent and fascinating. Ryder’s Lydia offers a surprisingly poignant counterbalance, grounding the film with her lonely but fearless portrayal of a teenager lost in her own world, while Davis and Baldwin provide the heart of the film and O’Hara and Jones a dash of zaniness.
There are times where Beetlejuice can feel like a series of strange set pieces and sketches stitched together rather than a convincingly cohesive story. The pacing rushes through quirky scenes, giving the impression that Burton was occasionally more interested in showcasing oddities than telling a fully realised tale but for some, this slapdash approach works in concert with the unreliable nature of Betelgeuse himself, a character that can sometimes overpower the quieter moments of the movie, especially the burgeoning “chosen family” subplot between the Maitlands and Lydia.
Compared to Tim Burton’s films, Beetlejuice stands out as one of his boldest, most playful projects. While it doesn’t have the emotional resonance of Edward Scissorhands or the dark gothic grandeur of Batman, its off-kilter charm and grotesque humour set the template for much of his later work. It is a precursor to the aesthetics of The Nightmare Before Christmas and Corpse Bride, which revel in his trademark gothic twistiness and whimsical oddity. Beetlejuice may be less polished than some of his later films, but there’s appeal in its rough edges and unrefined chaotic energy which he later polished and perfected.
More than 30 years later, Beetlejuice retains its zany energy and cult classic status, even if it’s not the most narratively tight film in Burton’s canon. Its consummate ability to merge distorted visuals with a playfully morbid sense of humour, along with unforgettable performances, ensures its place in the cinematic afterlife.
