Nostalgia and Chaos reign in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

As a fan of the original 80s classic, I couldn’t wait to dive back into the delightfully chaotic, spooky world Tim Burton had created. On release day, I was there with popcorn in hand, ready to be charmed by Beetlejuice all over again.

The original Beetlejuice was the quintessential embodiment of 80s comedies, capturing the decade’s lighthearted yet edgy spirit. Burton took that vibe to the next level, crafting a mischievous, havoc-wreaking character that was creepy, funny, and utterly irreverent. As audience members, we were just along for the wild ride, captivated by Beetlejuice's malicious antics. His unpredictability was the secret sauce that made the film a cult classic.

So, with the return of most of the original cast in this sequel, it seemed like a safe bet that Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice would deliver an hour and 44 minutes of pure entertainment. Michael Keaton’s return as the titular character, along with Winona Ryder as Lydia Deetz and Catherine O'Hara as the eccentric Delia, set the bar high. Nostalgia was clearly at the forefront of this film’s appeal, and the anticipation of seeing these beloved characters once again was enough to draw in long-time fans like myself.

This time around, we find Lydia Deetz as a neurotic ghost-show hostess, her fidgety personality molded by the exploitation of her slimy manager and boyfriend Rory, played by Justin Theroux. Ryder’s portrayal of a now adult Lydia reflects how life has worn her down—she’s malleable, manipulated, and distant, especially in her strained relationship with her daughter Astrid (played by Jenna Ortega). Their dynamic takes center stage as they return to Winter River after the death of Lydia’s father, and the film uses this as the basis for a family reconciliation plot.

Astrid, Lydia’s daughter, is skeptical of her mother’s connection to the ghostly world. She dismisses Lydia’s paranormal experiences, believing her mother is either delusional or desperately clinging to a past that no longer matters. It’s a tried-and-true storyline—estranged mother and daughter learn they’re more alike than they realize—but it works here, especially with the charisma of Ortega in the role. Her dry wit and screen presence are an excellent counterbalance to Lydia's frazzled energy, and their arc, while predictable, feels sincere.

But of course, the film doesn’t stop with just the Deetz family drama. Monica Bellucci’s portrayal of Beetlejuice’s vengeful wife adds a layer of dark humor. After being poisoned by Beetlejuice and chopped to pieces (classic Burton), she’s out for revenge. The film leans into absurdity with this subplot, embracing the grotesque and slapstick humor that Burton is so well known for. Bellucci brings a level of gravitas that balances out the chaos, even if her character could have been more developed.

Then there’s Willem Dafoe, whose role as a dead actor stuck in his role as a detective in the afterlife adds yet another quirky subplot. His character feels unnecessary to the central storyline, yet Dafoe’s presence on screen is so magnetic that you can't help but enjoy every moment he’s in. His deadpan delivery and absurd situation (continuing to investigate even in death) could easily warrant its own spin-off—a testament to Dafoe's ability to elevate even the most outlandish roles.

The setting of the afterlife itself is a character in its own right, a brilliantly crafted world that feels fully alive (despite being dead). The production design is rich with Burton’s signature style—twisting architecture, eerie lighting, and macabre details that make the afterworld feel whimsical yet menacing. It’s easy to get lost in the visual spectacle, and in some ways, the setting almost steals the show. You can tell that a lot of thought went into developing this world, and I’d argue that it deserves its own feature film, given how much is packed into these sequences.

With so many different plots happening at once—revenge, family drama, ghost detectives, and the ever-present threat of Beetlejuice’s antics—it does feel chaotic at times. But that’s part of the film’s charm. Burton has always thrived on creating cinematic worlds that revel in disorder and madness. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice might not be as polished as its predecessor, but the messy, frenetic energy is exactly what we expect from a sequel to such a bizarre original.

At its core, though, the film keeps its central storyline simple: Lydia and Astrid must reconcile, and Beetlejuice must wreak havoc. The estrangement between mother and daughter is resolved as Astrid discovers that she possesses the same abilities as her mother, with a ghostly boy tricking her along the way—because, of course, boys are always the problem. Lydia, haunted by memories of Beetlejuice, eventually seeks his help to enter the underworld and save her daughter from being trapped.

The film’s final act kicks into high gear with animated sandworms, a breakout dance sequence, and a visually stunning underground train ride to the afterlife. The action feels fast-paced and fun, keeping the audience entertained, even if the plot occasionally feels thin.

Ultimately, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice delivers on its promise of spooky, chaotic fun. While the film is messy and stuffed with subplots, it never loses the weird, irreverent heart that made the original a cult classic. The nostalgic elements hit all the right notes, the performances are spot-on, and despite its flaws, the film leaves you with a sense of contentment. Burton may not have crafted a perfect sequel, but he’s given us another ghoulish ride that’s hard to resist.

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