The problem with cherished classics is that they don’t always stand the test of time, at least in terms of maintaining a reasonable level of expectations regarding how audiences perceive them. The more a film is considered a canonical classic, the likelier it is that there will be those who find it overrated or consider its reputation to be severely overblown. However, some are undeniably brilliant regardless of how frequently they are discussed and praised, and they consistently prove to be exceptional pieces of art despite being constant sources of discussion. Beetlejuice is one such film – a demented dark comedy handcrafted by a team of some of the most ambitious artists working at the time, you would expect anything with this level of popularity to be overblown to the point of ridicule, but yet once you decide to step into this world (whether for the first time, or on a rewatch), it becomes immediately apparent what a masterful piece of cinema this was, and how it was quite possibly the peak of nearly everyone involved. Based on a story written and conceived by a team consisting of some truly gifted and deranged minds, the film was the second directorial outing for the young and rambunctious Tim Burton, made right at the beginning of his very ambitious career and nestled between Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and Batman to make perhaps the most unorthodox trio of directorial endeavours of the era. Years later, the film has not aged a day – the actors certainly have, but the story itself remains extremely compelling, and there are aspects of Beetlejuice that we can still consider revolutionary, even by contemporary standards. Perhaps it is a case of nostalgia driving the conversation, or simply the most sincere affection for a film that is so deeply captivating in terms of both form and content, but Beetlejuice is a fascinating and brilliant film that has stood the test of time better than most and remains perhaps Burton’s most well-crafted and self-assured work, at least in terms of the sheer audacity under which it was created.

Conceptually, Beetlejuice is quite a peculiar film – Burton has always had a penchant for the morbid and bizarre (after all, his first directorial endeavour was a short film dedicated to Vincent Price), and while he may not have been able to implement this vision directly into the previous film he directed, considering he was under strict commission to follow the rules set by the studio and the star of the film, he still managed to slip in a few more unconventional elements that indicated his curiosity around the absurd. This film is a perfect counter-attack against the more gentle and soft-hearted Pee-Wee Herman adventure, being a wildly strange and vulgar story about life after death, crafted less for families and more for the people who share Burton’s love for the absurd – although I’d argue that the fact that this became a wildly popular family film in its own right proves that subject matter is irrelevant when the execution is meaningful. The concept behind this film is a haunted house story, told from the perspective of a pair of disgruntled ghosts who are not interested in such an endeavour, but rather forced into it as part of some rules of the afterlife, and who have to force the residents of their beloved home out to ensure that they can have it back for themselves – naturally, everything goes awry, and multiple new narrative threads are gradually introduced as the story progresses, each one layering on new ideas into an already bizarre narrative. Burton’s career has always been driven by the idea of challenging the status quo when it comes to the stories he tells, and while he may have only been directing this film (and credit has to go to screenwriters Michael McDowell and Warren Skaaren, who were the ingenious creative minds behind this concept), he does bring his unique perspective to a narrative that only benefits from his wickedly perverse worldview and fascination with the morbid and absurd, of which there are few subjects more appropriate than death and what occurs after it. Beetlejuice has many very strong narrative elements and taken on its own, it tells a fascinating story, albeit one that is not the most interesting aspect of the film, which was entirely intentional.

The main attraction in Beetlejuice, or at least one of the most significant, is the visual element. This is a film in which Burton sets aside the need for a strong story, and focuses almost entirely on the way the narrative unfolds. There are only a small handful of films where we genuinely feel as if the people in charge of the production design, costume design and art direction departments should be credited on equal par with the director himself since their work here is almost essentially on even keel with what Burton is doing – he is merely the shepherd that guides these different elements together, since its these creative individuals that are responsible for bringing this demented script to life. It cannot be understated just how well-crafted this film manages to be, despite being made in an era where some of the technology that would have made the process far easier was not yet available. There is some use of early special effects, which are memorable even if they are slightly hokey and artificial (but never unpleasant – if anything, they contribute to the overall sense of intentional unease that comes pre-packaged with the film), but we discover that practical effects look and feel so much more authentic, with the level of detail put into every frame by this team of creative artists being beyond any description. There is a reason why Beetlejuice is one of the most instantly recognizable films of the 1980s, and why even over thirty years later, we still struggle to see a black and white pinstripe suit and not immediately think back to this film and the delightfully deranged demonic entity that it adorns. It’s certainly impossible to not be transfixed by this film and how it navigates the world it inhabits, which is done through such seemingly simple means, but yet is always profoundly captivating, proving that the best approach is always the one that requires effort but produces fruitful, earnest results.

Beetlejuice features a surprisingly fantastic cast – perhaps for audiences at the time, this particular assembly of actors would not have been particularly impressive or at least notable, but in hindsight, it is a remarkably captivating cast filled to the brim with iconic actors. Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis are the de facto leads, the recently-deceased married couple who are insistent on chasing a family of nouveau riche New Yorkers out of their Connecticut home, but find themselves hopelessly inept at even the most basic act of haunting. Catherine O’Hara, Jeffrey Jones and Winona Ryder (in one of two roles that made this her breakout year, accompanying Heathers) are all equally funny – in fact, there is even an argument to be made that O’Hara steals every scene she is in as the wildly neurotic matriarch who finds herself sinking further into despair as a result of being forced into a life she did not choose. Then there is the main attraction, the titular character, who is portrayed by Michael Keaton, who was at his peak of popularity at the time, and steadily rising to become one of the biggest names in comedy at the time. The character of Betelgeuse only fully arrives in earnest halfway through the film (after a couple of brief moments of allusion), and is relatively superfluous to the plot when we look at it objectively – yet it is a testament to both the writing of the character and Keaton’s performance that he feels so essential despite both these obstacles. Keaton’s wacky, offbeat energy is a perfect match for this character, who is a rapid-fire demonic figure who exists at the perfect intersection between charming and putrid, heroic and villainous – and while he is not entirely integral to the story in the sense that he could have been elided or at least made a more supporting part, he is still extremely captivating, with this being one of many vital performances in Keaton’s long and illustrious career that we have only recently started to appreciate in its entirety now that he has gained some sense of supposed respectability and acclaim despite years of exceptional work.

Despite its very brief running time (it’s shocking to realize it is a meagre 88 minutes in length), Beetlejuice feels much longer, primarily because of the sheer volume of components that are compressed into such a short space. However, neither of these statements is meant to be taken as deriding it in any way – by being so brief, it never overstays its welcome, and in having so many moving parts, it ensures that it runs at a rapid, enduring pace that constantly draws us into the world of this film. However, with so many wildly ambitious elements at play, there needed to be a few aspects that tie everything together, which we find in the form of the tone of the film. Originally envisioned as a darker, more brooding horror, Burton’s involvement shifted the gears to make the film a more eccentric, off-the-wall comedy that is both structurally and tonally quite a masterful achievement. There are seemingly a dozen jokes a minute, and absolutely every one of them lands – it does help that the cast consists of some of the most genuinely funny people in the industry, but credit needs to go to Burton for being able to realize the potential of this material to be such a wacky, endearing throwback to a very specific moment in Hollywood history, where cinema was at its most zany and offbeat, and logic was always optional. There are shades of Hellzapoppin’ and Abbott and Costello scattered liberally throughout the film, and Burton is never afraid to make his inspirations abundantly clear, especially when it is obvious that the story itself is trivial in comparison to the spectacle of the surrounding film. It is wildly outrageous and wickedly funny, and we find ourselves consistently enamoured with the film’s devil-may-care attitude, which has rarely been more entertaining than it is here, proving to make this an absolute delight in terms of both its construction and eventual execution.

Beetlejuice is a peculiar film in the sense that no one needs to be persuaded to watch it – it is wildly popular and has remained in the cultural consciousness for decades, never having waned in popularity (if anything, the wildly loved musical stage adaptation reignited passion for the material and brought even more audiences to appreciate this film), so persuading anyone of its merits is rarely necessary. Yet, it’s still such a fascinating film and attempts to understand the elements that went into its creation, both conceptually and formally, since it shows not only the root of Burton and both his early ingenuity and the signs of the artist he would become in later years, but also the incredible work being done by those who were working alongside him, crafting this hilarious and nightmarish landscape that is so brilliantly captivating and engaging in terms of how it functions and exists, reflecting certain themes that may seem trivial at first but do have a relatively solid foundation. The film is a wildly entertaining, perpetually compelling dark comedy that manages to be genuinely scary in many parts, but in a way that feels like it has some logic behind it, and where the humour has a lot of heart to supplement it, making it a far more layered experience than we would initially anticipate, Brilliantly subversive and genuinely very entertaining, Beetlejuice is a personal peak for everyone involved – they would all go on to do very good work in the future, so it’s not as if this was their only strong endeavour, but it does prove to be a wonderful collision of talents that prove to be effortlessly compelling from start to end, and which has stood the test of time far better than many of the other similarly-themed films produced around the same era.