BeetlejuiceThey say possession is nine-tenths of the law; that leaves a little left for exorcisms and other general hauntings--it's all in the "Handbook for the Recently Deceased". That's the name of the guide for ghosts that reads like "stereo instructions", one of many witty props in Tim Burton's horror comedy, Beetlejuice. After small town newlyweds Adam and Barbara Maitland (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis) shuffle off this mortal coil courtesy of a freak accident involving a terrier and a covered bridge, they soon discover that their rustic homestead has been infested by the worst kind of vermin: yuppies.
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Every time I watch the opening credits of Beetlejuice, I wonder just where the overhead shots of the actual town ends and the cutaway to the model in the Maitland's attic begins, so lifelike is the replica, a Norman Rockwell-esque interpretation of a simpler life. Just as the Maitland's house ends up being haunted by them and the "ghost with the most", Betelgeuse (Michael Keaton), this town is "haunted" by the Deetzes, comprised of patriarch Charles Deetz (Jeffrey Jones), flaky stepmom, Delia (Catherine O'Hara), and the proto-goth daughter, Lydia (Winona Ryder), who is channeling Wednesday Addams. Ironically, although Adam and Barbara are the protagonists of the piece, it is the Deetzes who spend the majority of the movie living in the house, transforming it--mutilating it--into their own trendy, grossly bizarre interpretation of urban chic, aided by Delia's interior designer and amateur paranormal researcher flunky, Otho (Glenn Shadix). What begins amid confusion and shock for Adam and Barbara at being dead leads into an escalation of desperation on their part to preserve their legacy, their own simple lives cut short, witness to the perversion of their way of life via the encroachment of the city folk. One wonders if the differences between these two families were less severe if there would have been a call out for help by the Maitlands, or their almost knee-jerk reaction to expel their gauche squatters as they contemplate their purgatorial afterlife for the next one-hundred twenty-five years. Certainly anyone who has found themselves entrenched in the kind of bureaucratic nightmare of hospitals and health care, buying a home, or so many other deliberately oblique institutions like it can relate to the Maitland's exasperation with their so-called case worker, Juno (Sylvia Sidney), and the departmental hell that is staffed by suicides. Furthermore, it is the exact kind of scenario which makes Adam and Barbara so ripe for the plucking by the nefarious Betelgeuse, a decomposing conman with rancid manners and a sadistic streak. In the end, Betelgeuse proves to be an even bigger problem than the Deetzes, his malicious and destructive tricks banking sharp toward the murderous, as though he were looking to make a few more ghosts to keep him company.
Beetlejuice excels at dancing the line between comedy and horror better than most films. With creepy and exaggeratedly violent special effects, ranging from giant sandworms on Saturn, face-ripping scares, and even shrunken heads, Beetlejuice could easily be a spooky monster flick. But on the other hand, lots of other comical gems keep the action light, even in the face of death. This is the kind of movie which manages to kill off the main characters before the ten-minute mark, and it's somehow light-hearted and silly--largely due to moments like the absurdity of a small dog balancing the entire yellow station wagon on a mere plank. Beetlejuice knowingly pokes fun at horror movie conventions, with a favorite scene occurring as the Maitland's country home wallpaper is being removed by steam, and Lydia ascends the stairs to the attic. There is the impression that she has emerged from another dimension, fog swirling about behind her, an effect which is a bit creepy, sure, but also funny in a tongue-in-cheek way...not unlike much of Tim Burton's oeuvre. Arguably the pièce de résistance of these antics comes in the famous "Calypso" scene at the dinner table, with "The Banana Boat Song" by Harry Belafonte coming out of Delia's mouth, a moment at once both mutually macabre and hysterical. The counterpoint to this scene is what follows immediately after, when the venomous Betelgeuse emerges as a guardrail serpent to wreak havoc upon the Deetzes with a level of violence only narrowly thwarted by Barbara in the nick of time. Betelgeuse himself is fundamentally a parallel of the titular character from the fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm, "Rumpelstiltskin"; in fact, both stories involve a capricious and evil spirit who grants wishes but at a terrible and deceptive price, and are thwarted by the utterance of their own names. Ultimately, the Maitlands and the Deetzes must learn to compromise and accept their fellow housemates in order to learn a little understanding, and in turn both couples turn out to be parent figures for Lydia; it only took the Maitlands dying for it to happen.
Recommended for: Fans of a charming and witty tale of ghosts and family, ghouls and experimental (and dangerous) artwork. Beetlejuice is both a clever reflection of our own material world while providing a unique perspective of the one beyond.
Beetlejuice excels at dancing the line between comedy and horror better than most films. With creepy and exaggeratedly violent special effects, ranging from giant sandworms on Saturn, face-ripping scares, and even shrunken heads, Beetlejuice could easily be a spooky monster flick. But on the other hand, lots of other comical gems keep the action light, even in the face of death. This is the kind of movie which manages to kill off the main characters before the ten-minute mark, and it's somehow light-hearted and silly--largely due to moments like the absurdity of a small dog balancing the entire yellow station wagon on a mere plank. Beetlejuice knowingly pokes fun at horror movie conventions, with a favorite scene occurring as the Maitland's country home wallpaper is being removed by steam, and Lydia ascends the stairs to the attic. There is the impression that she has emerged from another dimension, fog swirling about behind her, an effect which is a bit creepy, sure, but also funny in a tongue-in-cheek way...not unlike much of Tim Burton's oeuvre. Arguably the pièce de résistance of these antics comes in the famous "Calypso" scene at the dinner table, with "The Banana Boat Song" by Harry Belafonte coming out of Delia's mouth, a moment at once both mutually macabre and hysterical. The counterpoint to this scene is what follows immediately after, when the venomous Betelgeuse emerges as a guardrail serpent to wreak havoc upon the Deetzes with a level of violence only narrowly thwarted by Barbara in the nick of time. Betelgeuse himself is fundamentally a parallel of the titular character from the fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm, "Rumpelstiltskin"; in fact, both stories involve a capricious and evil spirit who grants wishes but at a terrible and deceptive price, and are thwarted by the utterance of their own names. Ultimately, the Maitlands and the Deetzes must learn to compromise and accept their fellow housemates in order to learn a little understanding, and in turn both couples turn out to be parent figures for Lydia; it only took the Maitlands dying for it to happen.
Recommended for: Fans of a charming and witty tale of ghosts and family, ghouls and experimental (and dangerous) artwork. Beetlejuice is both a clever reflection of our own material world while providing a unique perspective of the one beyond.