Michael Keaton can do almost anything on screen, even bring parts of “The Flash” to life.
Can he resurrect his oddest screen incarnation, a zombie-fied ghoul who made the afterlife hip in 1988’s “Beetlejuice?”
Yup. It’s not just Keaton who gets credit for this charming sequel. Blame director Tim Burton’s endless supply of cockeyed imagery and a cast in on the undead joke.
The Juice is loose, and you won’t feel bad about it in the morning.
Young, tortured Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) is now a TV psychic haunted by the title character’s memory. She interrupts her own show to travel back home for her father’s funeral.
Yes, that’s the character brought to life by Jeffrey Jones, now canceled for troubling accusations tied to child pornography.
Even an ’80s-era project would think twice before luring Jones back in front of the camera.
Still, Jones’ character sets the sequel’s story in motion. Lydia drags her daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega, given the shopworn role of the cynical teen) to pay their respects.
Our old friend Beetlejuice is still lurking around the Afterlife, and someone makes the mistake of saying his name aloud three times.
Voila, Keaton’s shambolic soul is back for more mayhem.
The film’s first 20 minutes prove faithful to the source material, down to returning composer Danny Elfman’s score. We still see little reason for this belated reunion. It’s fitting that Lydia struggles with a goth girl all her own, but the relationship plays out in perfunctory fashion.
Slowly, Keaton’s lines tighten up and the supporting players make their presence felt. Catherine O’Hara makes her ditzy Delia worth every close-up while Justin Theroux gets plenty of mileage as Lydia’s hapless beau.
The cast makes all this zaniness easy to swallow.
Burton marries practical effects with modern-day CGI, and he never seems to run out of bizarre visuals. What should be vile or disgusting is silly putty in Burton’s grasp. Young viewers may be creeped out, but everyone else will relish the film’s Halloween hilarity.
It’s PG:13 nightmare fuel, even if Burton’s canvas is less provocative than it was 36 years ago, but
The sequel’s flaws are undeniable. Monica Belluci’s screen intro is one for the ages, but the film never figures out what to do with her Morticia Adams menace. And it’s creepy to deify Jones’ character knowing what we’ve learned about the actor’s off-screen behavior.
Yes, they’ve turned his character into a plot device, but why showcase Jones’ mug so often while refusing to give him the chance to resurrect the part?
As Rachel Zegler might say, “Weird!”
The screenplay, credited to Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, gives Keaton little to work with for the first third of the film. Keaton is having a blast anyway, but the character scores best with sublime gags.
Have patience. They’re on the way. Add a killer music drop that’s nearly as good as the original’s “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song),” and you have a sequel well worth your while
HiT or Miss: “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” reminds us some stories deserve a second chapter, especially ones spawned from director Tim Burton’s wild imagination.
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