Review: BEETLEJUICE Brings Big Demon Energy to the Benedum Center

Okay, storytime! I have a personal connection to the Beetlejuice musical on two levels. First, when I was a senior in high school and a freshman in college, I followed Stephen Sondheim's advice on learning how to write by adapting an existing work solely for educational purposes, to learn "how" to do it. My "untitled unauthorized Beetlejuice musical" project was almost uniformly bad, but it taught me a lot; the two songs from it that showed any promise both wound up revised and repurposed into the musical I wrote during the pandemic. Second... I'm the guy who named the Netherlings. Yes, the devoted, rabid and sometimes frightening Beetlejuice musical fan club is named after a term I coined online. Naturally, when the tour came to town, I had to see it, and believe me: it did not disappoint.

How, you may wonder, do you make a musical out a movie that is nearly nonsensical and almost plotless, due to most of the scenes being at least partially improvised? (Don't ask me, since, as noted above, I couldn't crack it as an amateur undergrad.) The answer, it appears, is being affectionate but not precious with the source materials. Beetlejuice: The Musical, The Musical, the Musical draws its lore and its inspiration not only from the film, but from the animated series, and then even from the legendary unproduced scripts for the film. (If you're not up on your trivia, Beetlejuice was originally a script written by cult horror novelist Michael McDowell; as Tim Burton and his team worked on it, they threw out more and more of McDowell's writing and started rewriting or improvising new material instead.) By welding the movie's good parents/bad parents subplot to the animated series's platonic-ish friendship between teenage girl and undead troublemaker, and adding in the McDowell screenplay's characterization of Beetlejuice as a bargaining-addicted demon and not just a poltergeist, librettists Scott Brown and Anthony King manage to built a funny but heartfelt plot out of many, many moving pieces.

In a world where the afterlife, aka the Netherworld, is a place of empty, mind-numbing isolation, Beetlejuice (Justin Collette) is a demon with no one to torment and no one to love. Desperate for attention and stimulation, he interferes with the crossing-over of wishy-washy milquetoast millennials Barbara Maitland (Britney Coleman) and Adam Maitland (Will Burton). Trapping them as ghosts within their own home, he tricks them into believing they are stuck forever, and becomes their paranormal sensei when they team up to scare off the house's new owners. But when lonely Goth teen Lydia Deetz (Isabella Esler) bonds with both the deceased Maitlands and the manipulative weirdo Beetlejuice, a power struggle for the soul of the girl and ownership of the house breaks out, across both the mortal and immortal realms.

The book by Brown and King packs in belly laughs, pop cultural references and clever quips, along with a fair number of probably intentional groaners, and Eddie Perfect's bouncy, catchy, hyperactively wordy score perpetually propels the show along at its addictive breakneck speed. There are only a few moments where it slows down and gets serious, mostly involving Lydia's grief. Through all of this crowded and zany two and a half hours, Alex Timbers's design-heavy production (with costumes by William Ivey Long, scenery by David Korins and some astounding projections by Peter Nigrini) turns the Benedum Center into a spooky and delightfully dirty funhouse.

The cast is packed with fantastic singers and comedic actors. Justin Collette is a "professional Alex Brightman," performing in Beetlejuice and School of Rock around the country. While he doesn't drastically reinvent the role, he gives the audience the Brightman-and-Timbers-patented Beetlejuice fans have come to know and love through the role's social media presence, complete with the growling voice and little improv bits that garner so much praise online. Collette has wonderful chemistry with Isabella Esler as Lydia, giving their "probably gotta be platonic, right?" relationship a genuine mix of danger and affection. Esler sometimes feels a little boxed in by original Lydia Sophia Anne Caruso's unique, jerky physicality, but when Esler gets to let loose with her high, pure belt, the role becomes entirely her own. She doesn't attempt Caruso's death-metal screams at the end of "Home," and more power to her for it; she doesn't need them with a voice like that. Will Burton and especially Britney Coleman (love seeing a Starkid alum on the big stage) are hilarious and lovable as the sweet but deeply lame Maitlands; they make perfect foils to Jesse Sharp and Kate Marilley as Lydia's wealthy but emotionally blocked father and zany life coach respectively. There is so much down-to-the-moment comic timing in this show, negotiating lines, blocking, sound effects, musical cues, props and special effects; it's amazing how the show can feel both loosey-goosey and tight as a machine at the same time.

Beetlejuice does have its detractors, who can't get into the joyfully lowbrow humor, the slant rhymes, the physical comedy, the frequent crudeness, or a dozen other things. But not every show has to be for everyone. I think the packed house at opening night proved that this show is, at least, for a LOT of people. Among all the chaos and dirty jokes and detachable arms, there's a pretty solid message about how Americans are afraid to confront mortality and discuss death head on, preferring to either laugh about it or ignore it. Will Beetlejuice start the conversation about death in a major way? Almost certainly not, but it at least props the door open a little.