Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

Unlike the Ghostbusters reboots, this does have at least some of the charm of the original.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice shines with Burton's striking visual style and dry wit.

There’s a resultant clumsiness to it that makes the traditional zaniness of the whole project feel telegraphed.

This sequel has so much plot and moving pieces that I wouldn't even say come together -- they really just collide in the end.

The sequel is, in many ways, exactly what it looks like: a revival of a decades-old movie with plenty of cultural stock to cash in on, happy to play the hits. But it is also an artist’s reflection on his journey from ghastly pariah to mall-goth staple.

Fortunately, there isn’t a whiff of cynicism to Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Burton shows real affection for the first film’s characters and genuine curiosity about how they’re doing three decades or so later.

Hauntingly heartwarming and frightfully funny, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a goth valentine to the terror of the living.

When the credits roll, you may feel you’ve spent 104 minutes in a world of Burton-esque antics, but without much of a payoff.

I was going to say that this feels like a first draft script, but it doesn't even feel like that. This feels like two or three first draft scripts stitched together.

It’s never overtly scary, but spooky enough to be a part of the Halloween media rotation for years to come.