After a 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 teenage daughter, Astrid, accidentally opens the portal to the Afterlife.
Welcome back, my lovely cinephiles and those who accidentally clicked on this blog thinking it was a Buzzfeed listicle about "Ten Ways to Survive the Afterlife Without Going Full Poltergeist." Today, we're diving headfirst into the ectoplasmic ooze that is Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, the movie that was 36 years in the making—because evidently, Hollywood's recycling bin was running a little low.
Let's start with the basics: We've got Michael Keaton back in his most iconic role—that's right, folks, it's not Batman. It's the bio-exorcist with a face like a dirty rag dipped in acid and a personality to match. Beetlejuice is back, baby! And the man himself, Keaton, made it crystal clear in 2014 that this is the only sequel he ever wanted to do. Apparently, the guy has taste—who knew? Winona Ryder is also back, gracing our screens not just with her eyes that somehow make every teenage goth feel deeply understood, but also with her cheekbones that could carve out a portal to the underworld all by themselves. And Catherine O'Hara? Oh, sweet Catherine. She’s back, not just chewing the scenery but fully digesting it, turning it into a one-woman performance art piece involving lamp shades and existential dread.
The Plot Thickens... Kind Of
Now, let's talk plot, or at least what passes for one in this sequel. After a family tragedy that is explained through claymation (A Burton Fav) , the Deetz family returns to Winter River, because nothing screams "I need a break from trauma" like moving back to the middle of nowhere where your dead mother's ghost still probably rearranges the dining room chairs. Three generations under one roof—like The Waltons but with more screaming and fewer bedtime prayers.
Of course, Lydia's daughter, Astrid, the quintessential moody teenager, does the most teenager-y thing ever: she accidentally opens a portal to the Afterlife. Because, honestly, what teenager hasn’t opened a demonic gateway while scrolling through TikTok, looking for DIY eyeliner tutorials? This is where things get interesting—by which I mean they start recycling faster than a hippie commune at Burning Man.
Tim Burton is back with his signature flair for the macabre, and let’s be honest, this is his sandbox. The guy knows how to play with shadows and freaky models like a kid who's had way too much sugar on Halloween. The movie is dripping with the kind of kooky, gothic visuals that make you think, “Oh yeah, this is why I sat through Dark Shadows without gouging my own eyes out." It’s got that Tim Burton-y smell all over it, like a damp basement full of antique toys, and, for the most part, that's a good thing.
And let’s not ignore the fact that the model town from the first movie makes a cameo—like a washed-up actor doing dinner theater for the free snacks. And yes, the car crash scene that killed Adam and Barbara is still there, upside down in the water like a grim Easter egg that makes you go, “Oh yeah, dead people live here."
What I Liked: A Nostalgia Trip Worth the Price of Admission (Mostly)
Now, I gotta hand it to them. They gave us the sequel that feels like a sequel, not a reboot. This isn’t like when they brought back Ghostbusters with an all-women cast just to rile up the Internet trolls (although, props to them for that). This feels like a true continuation of the first film—a smorgasbord of bizarre characters, off-kilter humor, and the kind of “Tim Burton goodies” that make Hot Topic executives lose their collective goth minds.
Plus, we’ve got the returning stars. Seeing Keaton, Ryder, and O'Hara back together again is like that moment at your high school reunion when you see your old friends and think, “Wow, we survived that?” It feels… right. And there’s something genuinely delightful about a movie that doesn’t shove “woke” messaging down your throat like an aggressive vegan at Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some social justice, but sometimes, you just want to turn off your brain and watch some ghosts do the Macarena.
What I Disliked: When Recycling Becomes Redundant
But, my dear readers, I’m not here to blow sunshine up your cinematic rear ends. There were… issues. Namely, the fact that it felt like they pulled a bit too much from the original. It’s like they couldn’t decide whether to make a sequel or just re-release the first film with the contrast turned up. Too many scenes felt like they were dusted off from the 1988 cutting room floor and shoved back into the script because, hey, who doesn’t love a good rehash? If I wanted déjà vu, I’d have gone to therapy.
And don’t get me started on the plot lines that felt about as necessary as a screen door on a submarine. We’ve got subplots that lead nowhere, side quests that should have stayed on the editing room floor, and character arcs that are more like character fender-benders. It’s as if they wrote the script with a random subplot generator and decided, “Sure, throw it in. The more, the merrier!”
Then there’s the ending—oh, that ending. I haven’t seen a more Scooby-Doo wrap-up since the actual Scooby-Doo movie, and even that had more nuance. It all felt too fast, too easy, and left me with the kind of hollow feeling you get after eating an entire bag of marshmallows for dinner. Sure, it was fun while it lasted, but afterward, you're just left with regret and a stomachache.
The Final Word: A Sequel with Spectral Swagger, but a Bit Short on Substance
In conclusion, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is like that friend who shows up at the family reunion: loud, obnoxious, and a bit of a rehash of his former glory, but still, there’s something endearing about him. It’s a fun, nostalgic romp that offers just enough of that quirky Burton magic to keep the fans satisfied, but maybe not enough new material to make it truly stand out. It’s a movie to watch with popcorn in one hand and the remote in the other—so you can pause and take a breather when the plot twists start to give you whiplash.
If you’re a die-hard Burton fan or just someone who thinks Michael Keaton’s raspy growl is the only true soundtrack of the afterlife, then sure, give it a go. But if you’re looking for groundbreaking cinema or deep, meaningful storytelling, you might want to try The Notebook… or you know, anything else.
Rating: 6.75/10.
Comments