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.

When I most definitely will run into a drunk guy dressed like Beetlejuice on Halloween, if I ask him to tell me about his night, it will almost certainly be a more interesting story than the one Beetlejuice Beetlejuice tells.

[T]here’s nothing to this movie. It was gossamer, it was a spider web — swipe your hand and it vanishes. ... The final act did pick up, as if the movie had realized it was just puttering around and had to rouse itself and finish big. Too little, too late.

“Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” provides a perfect popcorn movie to escape to in air-conditioned cinemas. It offers deliciously dark and twisted eye candy but not much more.

The new film is darker, stranger, and it makes much more nonsensical sense than the original. It also focuses on three generations of women played by three terrific actors — making it infinitely more watchable.