'It's showtime': 'Beetlejuice Beetlejuice' is classic Tim Burton, flaws intact

As the camera glides down the misty streets of Winter River, set to a spooky, whimsical tune, Tim Burton's uncanny direction transports the audience back into the eerie charm of his earlier works. With the familiar autumnal spirit of the opening credits alone, we are reminded of one thing: Beetlejuice is back. 

As the opening credits conclude, the first character on-screen is none other than Winona Ryder herself, reprising her iconic role as Lydia Deetz. Unlike the deadpan teen with an unearthly ability to see the dead from the original "Beetlejuice," she is now a television host trying to salvage a sour relationship with her indignant daughter, Astrid Deetz, played by Jenna Ortega. 

Soon, Lydia receives the news of her father's passing from her mother, Delia Deetz (Catherine O'Hara), and the characters are lured back into their infamous house at the top of the hill. Up in the attic remains the model town left by the couple who summoned "Beetlejuice" in the original film. It's here we see the first hints of the supernatural, left as a relic for Astrid to uncover along with a portal to the afterlife. 

When Astrid finds herself lost in the afterlife, Lydia is finally confronted by Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton), a zany demon she thought she outsmarted all those years ago. In a desperate attempt to save her daughter, Lydia once again finds herself arranged to marry Beetlejuice, who by the way, is running from his ex-wife, Delores, played by Monica Bellucci.  

The film is packed from start to finish, bouncing from one subplot to another with disorderly energy only Burton can deliver. If you blink, you might miss a key twist or a sly reference to the original film.

Full of eye-catching sequences, this sequel is just as wacky as its predecessor. Burton is no stranger to macabre surrealism. Once you think he's run out of tricks, he whips out another head-spinning visual.

From familiar settings, like the sandworm-infested desert, to the unusual antics in the attic, the practical effects maintain the franchise's absurdity, but with the essential refinements of modern cinematography. Coupled with Danny Elfman's masterful score, the film's world feels wonderfully immersive — strange yet grounded in the comfort of nostalgia. 

Although most critics were swept up in the film's whimsy, some were quick to question Burton's intentions behind specific moments, particularly the soul train scenes.

For context, in the film, the soul train is a vehicle that puts the deceased on a fast track to a permanent place in the afterlife. What makes the train unique is the eternal disco party transpiring on the platforms. We're talking full disco garb, hair and music. 

Notably, most, if not all, of the dancers were black. This was a glaring detail, considering Burton's films are notorious for having predominantly white casts. 

When previously asked about the noticeable lack of racial diversity in his casts, Burton controversially replied, "Things either call for (diversity), or they don't." It's not the most inoffensive take, but until Burton explicitly comments on the soul train scenes, viewers are left debating whether they signify growth or his venture into forced diversity.

Among other things, one diverting and equally questionable plot device would be the addition of Willem Dafoe's character, Wolf Jackson. A former action movie star and a detective in the afterlife, Wolf's mission is to capture the elusive Beetlejuice — it sounds meaningful, but somehow, his arc feels seemingly out of place from the rest of the storyline. 

Sure, a selling point may be that the film is packed with household names, but with the compounded star power of other cast members, Dafoe's character inclusion was so arbitrary that he became a distraction. If it wasn't for Dafoe's admiration within the film industry, viewers might leave theaters wondering if this new character was needed at all. 

Now, viewers are left with one of the most burning questions when discussing sequels: was this a worthy follow-up to the 1988 classic? Some might say no if they're entering theaters ready to critique, but the film delivered on its promise of a Burton escapade. It was quirky, vibrant and down-right feverish. 

Whether you're a longtime fan or a newcomer to the peculiar world of Winter River, this sequel presents an amusing and rather chaotic trip into the afterlife and leaves the audience with the haunting admonition to never say "Betelgeuse" three times — ever.