Viking Night: Beetlejuice
By Bruce Hall
November 8, 2011
BoxOfficeProphets.com
It’s hard to believe, but in Burton’s filmography this movie bridges Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and some movie about a guy who dresses up like a rodent. One, of course, was an unlikely comedy classic and the other was one of the biggest commercial hits of all time. That goes to show you the diverse range of Burton’s many talents. He’s a director with an animator’s eye, so he excels at creating discrete universes for each film he makes. Each one is a surrealist snow globe, a fantasy vacuum that could only exist in one given place and time in the universe. I’m not saying that’s unique; Brett Ratner and Michael Bay do it too. But the Bay- and Ratner-verses come off an assembly line, much the way you can get a cheap, greasy hamburger just about anywhere.
But Burton’s films tend to have individual character, and it’s hard not to perceive each as an individually wrapped confection, created especially for you. But it’s not just the difference between a Big Mac and the Rib-Eye burger at the Skybox in Las Vegas. It’s the difference between a PC and a Mac. One is a functional but indifferent product designed to appeal to the widest base possible. The other is meant to appeal to needs that everyone has, yet is held to standards that few people have enough taste to demand. Some people make popular films that get forgotten about on the way to the restroom after the credits. Others fill their catalogue with beloved classics; benchmarks by which other films are often measured. Can you guess which one Tim Burton is?
And yet while I admire him, I’m not a homer. To prove it, I want to be up front about something right now. Beetlejuice is one of those films that will shock you because it isn’t quite the way you remember it. Burton isn’t immune to failure (I’m looking at you, Mars Attacks. Don’t try and leave the room, Planet of the Apes), but the vast majority of his films are sure to become classics, and many of them already are. Beetlejuice remains a distant memory for most people, and time has not been especially kind to it. But the fundamental aspects of what makes most of Burton’s work easy to love are still here. And for the most part, this overcomes deficiencies that would male lesser films seem even more obsolete. And to be fair, I should point out that the movie’s crudeness is said to be intentional. On the other hand, Beetlejuice also didn’t have a large effects budget, so maybe that’s a little bit of revisionist history. Either way, it adds to the charm and plays to Burton’s defining strength - he understands the power of imagination.
So, imagine you’re an adorable thirtysomething couple who lives in an antique house in a quaint country town. Adam Maitland (Alec Baldwin - yes, that’s really him) runs a hardware store and builds painstakingly detailed miniature models as a hobby. He also enjoys plaid shirts, wire rimmed glasses and being kind to all God’s creatures in his spare time. His wife Barbara (the tall and winsome Geena Davis) is tall and winsome, supportive and kind, and spends her days lovingly decorating and refurbishing their cozy turn of the (20th) century home. After years of building their store into a success, the Maitlands decide to take a well earned vacation. And instead of hitting the Caribbean or the French Riviera, their plan is to spend a few weeks puttering around the house and being goofy in love with each other.
Yes, you can hug yourself. The Maitlands are THAT ridiculously romantic. They’re like a like a rustic Ozzie and Harriet, just without the kids - and the gauzy Eisenhower era moral filter. That’s why it’s such a damn shame when they die in a car crash on the way into town for supplies. But it’s not all bad. Despite being dead, the Maitlands discover that they’re still able to inhabit their beloved home as ghosts. They even stumble upon a handy guidebook for the recently deceased. It describes the massive Eisenhower era bureaucracy that governs the afterlife, making it surprisingly hard for the dead to find peace. The couple is even assigned a case worker, who proves unable to help when a new family moves into the house and starts making changes.
Delia Deetz (Catherine O’Hara) is a nuvo riche social climber who moonlights as a sculptor. She and her flamboyant business partner Otho (Glenn Shadix) are looking to transform Chateau Maitland into a post modern fleck stone horror. Desperate to prevent this, Adam and Barbara try in vain to scare them into moving out. They even consider hiring a “professional” they’ve heard rumors about, who claims to be an expert at driving away the living. But the Maitlands are warned off the idea by their case worker. This "Betelgeuse" does not work well with others, they’re told.
Meanwhile, the Deetzes have their own issues. Delia’s hideous redecorating project hits a snag. Charles (Jeffrey Jones) just wanted a place in the country to unwind, but the whirlwind of activity around him proves overwhelming. Lydia the Goth hates everyone, has a photography fetish, fantasizes about death and likes to wear black wedding dresses. Somehow, you just know she’s going to be able to see ghosts. That she can, and when she meets the Maitlands, they become fast friends. But this only reinforces the girl’s fascination with suicide - she’s more interested in joining the Maitlands in oblivion than she is in helping them escape it. Feeling out of options, the Maitlands finally summon help in the form of Betelgeuse, the self styled "bio-exorcist."
Betelgeuse is an outlandish demon who looks like The Joker’s uncle on crack and sounds like a cross between Jeff Foxworthy and Bobcat Goldthwait. His pitch is that he’s like all four Ghostbusters in one, except he exterminates the living rather than the dead. But he sells himself a little hard, and comes off as just a little bit psycho. Predictably, the Maitlands quickly discover that once Betelgeuse is unleashed, controlling him isn’t really an option anymore. He’s a vile, devious creature with a trickster’s knack for playing people off one another to achieve his maniacal goals. In fact, the best part of the film is the last act, where Betelgeuse reveals his true motivations and everyone is forced to choose sides. Will Lydia help the Maitlands? Are the Maitlands willing to sacrifice themselves to protect their new friend? Will Betelgeuse finally get laid after 600 years on the wagon?
Yes, these and other burning questions are answered. And it’s all fun and games, until it’s not. This is not a bad movie, but it’s not nearly as good as you remember it. It has its moments, some of them good, some of them kind of weak, but nothing that will make you regret watching altogether. It’s like watching a high school talent show. It’s a very uneven experience, but they’re kids. They’re new at this, so you have to cut them some slack. Beetlejuice was Tim Burton’s second big budget film. What did you want, Batman Begins? It’s not outrageously funny, but it never loses your interest. It’s lighthearted, it’s charming, and it never takes itself very seriously. How can you dislike a movie like this?
But despite Burton’s insistence that Beetlejuice is meant to look cheap, it’s hard not to be a little put off by that. I remember how huge this movie was when it came out. It made tons of money. People went to see it again and again. And this is how it looked? It’s like watching a good natured spoof of The Twilight Zone shot with three cameras on a soundstage filled with $5000 worth of Styrofoam. On the other hand, my latest viewing was on Blu-Ray, and in high def, Michael Keaton’s makeup looks like he bought it at K-Mart. This is forgivable. Beetlejuice has other flaws that trouble me more.
The Maitlands are bland, slapstick cardboard cutouts. Baldwin and Davis both have pretty solid comic instincts, but they’re also good actors. Their characters seem woefully underdeveloped, and the movie’s failure to underscore their humanity seems like a missed opportunity. Especially since both actors are more than capable of delivering. No, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But bland, unadventurous comedy can be made to seem edgy by adding just a little touch of humanity. Why do you think people love Judd Apatow so much?
Second offense - Keaton is not in the film as often as you remember. Perhaps the biggest weakness of Beetlejuice is how little Betelgeuse there is. The character doesn’t appear in the (rotting) flesh until about halfway through the film, and even then his presence is largely confined to a few key scenes. It’s not as egregious as Terminator 2, where the antagonist disappears for about a half hour right in the middle of the film. But Betelgeuse could have been as dull as the rest of the cast - yet Keaton clearly went through a lot of trouble to avoid this. It’s hard not to feel that a little more of Michael Keaton being Michael Keaton was just what this movie needed.
If you happen to like Beetlejuice - and I do - it’s probably because Tim Burton’s vision wins out in the end. The movie is crude, simplistic and it paints in pretty broad strokes. But it’s also witty, cheerful and infectiously fun. Adults will find it choppy, but amusing. It’s harmless enough for kids, although you’ve got creepy Faustian bargains, a surreal depiction of the hereafter, some major burn victims and perhaps half a dozen severed rubber heads. Just keep the under ten crowd out of the room, I guess. Without a doubt, Beetlejuice is a little rough around the edges. But it’s still got the Burton magic. It’s still got the mom from Home Alone, married to Ferris Bueller’s principal. It’s got Winona Ryder in a black wedding dress. It’s got Dick Cavett and Robert Goulet singing Harry Belafonte tunes. It’s got Batman. In a wig.
And best of all, it’s got an ending that makes being dead seem like more fun than being alive. If you work in an office like I do, that’s actually kind of reassuring.