Review: Alex Brightman Is Uproariously Subversive in Gothic Musical Comedy Gem BEETLEJUICE

"Holy crap! A ballad already?", sneers the leading man as he interrupts the opening song of his starring vehicle; a funeral dirge sung by his co-star, backed by a chorus of mourners.

"And such a bold departure from the original source material," he adds.

If you recall how the generously talented Alex Brightman was bouncing off the walls with brash comedic energy and a gutsy blast of a singing voice the last time he took command of the Winter Garden as the star of SCHOOL OF ROCK, well, to paraphrase a legendary showman who famously played this house, you ain't seen nothing yet.

Based on director Tim Burton's hit 1988 film, Beetlejuice is an aggressively entertaining musical that has no interest teaching life lessons, touching your soul or reinventing Broadway for a new generation. It just wants to show you a damn good time, and damn, does it succeed.

"Welcome to a show about death," sings Brightman & Co. once the somber proceedings have been suitably flushed and the party gets properly started. Eddie Perfect's perfectly enjoyable score - energetic melodies encasing very funny lyrics, orchestrated with ghoulish embellishments by Kris Kukul - offers an opening number that fully recognizes where we all are.

"Don't be freaked / Stay in your seats / I do this bullshit like eight times a week / So just relax / You'll be fine / Drink your fifty-dollar wine."

(Okay, so the rhymes aren't always perfect, but the songs here are so much better than the ones he wrote for that other new musical playing a couple of blocks up the street that this one that might qualify him for a "Most Improved" Tony Award.)

Bookwriters Scott Brown and Anthony King craft a plot that veers off a bit from the focus of the film (Yes, the gags involving a pair of classic Harry Belafonte hits remain.), hosted by Brightman as he takes the stage like a neo-goth borscht belt comic, chatting up the audience, wise-cracking with Groucho-like finesse and effortlessly grabbing at props tossed up to him from the orchestra pit while playing a crude and clever ghost who's trying to avoid spending eternity with his mom in the Netherworld by staying among the living. The trouble is that he's invisible to everyone ("Powerless. Like a gay Republican.") except those who know to summon him by repeating his name three times.

Looking for playmates that might help him scare up some fun, he hangs out at the isolated country home of craftsman hobbyist Adam Maitland and his perky wife Barbara, knowing that they're both scheduled to perish soon in a freak accident. Musical comedy pros Rob McClure and Kerry Butler are terrific as the hopelessly bland couple who can't quite adjust to a post-life existence of scaring people. Beetlejuice tries to train them by having them name the scariest thing they can think of. Adam blurts out, "The Electoral College!"

Time moves quickly when you're dead, and the next thing the Maitlands know, their home is now occupied by recently widowed real estate developer Charles Deetz (Adam Dannheisser) and his new life coach girlfriend, Delia, whose motto is, ""Every success begins with 'Sucks' but ends with 'Yes.' SucksYes!" Leslie Kritzer, a superb comedian with a thrilling belt who really should be having big, loud Broadway musicals written for her, plays Delia with divine quirkiness, but really brings down the house in Act II, leading a crazy song and dance number as a dead Miss Argentina. Don't ask.

As seen in the musical's opening, before the title guy takes over, Charles' goth-styled 15-year-old daughter, Lydia, remains in mourning for her mom, but after gaining the ability to meet Beetlejuice, she sees him as a means to finding a way to be with her in the Netherworld.

In just her second Broadway appearance, Sophia Anne Caruso, who is not much older than her character, makes a sensational impression as Lydia, exuding creepy charisma as she sings the weirdly heartfelt "Dead Mom" and belting like Wednesday Addams playing Dainty June when needed to partake in more traditional showbiz antics.

The convoluted plot leads to Beetlejuice having a hankering to live again ("If I was alive, I could get out of this house. Meet my kinda people. Ya know, socially liberal but fiscally conservative.") and discovering he can come back to life if he can convince Lydia to marry him.

"It's a Green Card thing!" he insists, trying to sap the situation of its ick factor, and a big ensemble number called "Creepy Old Guy" has the cast singing, "I can't believe some cultures think this kind of thing's alright."

Director Alex Timbers, a master at these oddball, off-beat musicals, embraces the material in a carnival atmosphere, packaged with pizzazz by designers David Korins (set), William Ivy Long (costumes), Kenneth Posner (lights), Peter Hylenski (sound), Peter Nigrini (projections), Michael Curry (puppets), Jeremy Chernick (special effects) and Michael Weber (magic and illusion).

But despite the excellent work of the artists surrounding him, it's Alex Brightman's slam-bang performance that's the evening most special effect. Mixing old-school showmanship with hip, subversive edginess he is a top-shelf musical comedy entertainer.