Tim Burton (Ed Wood, Big Fish, Batman, Corpse Bride, Sleepy Hollow) gives us one of the most over-the-top horror comedies of all time with his Bangsian fantasy, Beetle Juice. From his parody of many of the great presentations of the hereafter, his satirizing of various aspects of contemporary society, to Michael Keaton’s flamboyant performance, the work well deserves its place on the American Film Institute’s 100 Years . . . 100 Laughs.

A couple, Adam (Alec Baldwin, Glengarry Glen Ross, The Aviator, Nuremberg, State and Main) and Barbara (Geena Davis, Tootsie, Thelma & Louise, The Fly) Maitland, drive off a bridge and drown. They then awaken back in their Connecticut farmhouse, soaking wet but unharmed and without any memory of how they arrived. To their dismay, they discover that they have recently died and have been condemned to spend 125 years in their home. Shortly thereafter, a New York yuppie family by the name of the Deetzs, comprised of a passive, money-grubbing father, Charles (Jeffrey Jones, Amadeus, Ed Wood, The Devil’s Advocate), a faux artist stepmother, Delia (Catherine O’Hara, Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show), and a goth daughter, Lydia (Winona Ryder, Edward Scissorhands; Heathers; Dracula; Girl, Interrupted; Little Women; The Age of Innocence), purchase the Maitland estate. After quickly coming to terms with their current metaphysical status, the Maitlands execute a novice haunting to rid themselves of their unwelcome guests. Unsuccessful, they hire the efforts of the world’s leading bio-exorcist, Betelgeuse (Michael Keaton, Jackie Brown, Batman). However, things do not go as smoothly as the Maitlands had hoped once Betelgeuse’s motives for taking the job include agenda’s outside of disposing of the unwanted family.

Beetle Juice is a sardonic twist on traditional haunted house story. Instead of having a family attempt to rid themselves of a poltergeist, the Maitlands (now ghosts) decide they don’t care for those who are now living in their home after the lot is sold immediately following the couple’s funeral. Yet, instead of merely turning genre convention on its head, Burton presents Betelgeuse with the insinuation that the ensuing action will be fairly straightforward for the remainder of the film as he purges the Maitland house of the Deetzs. However, the Deetzs, instead of being terrified, view the haunting as a potential cash cow if marketed correctly. The roller coaster plot continues to twist and turn as Betelgeuse, now bored with this given task, which is merely a ruse hiding his ulterior motives, decides to take action.

There are many, many parodies and satirical punches at society and its views upon the afterlife throughout Burton’s horror comedy. Betelegeuse’s primary agenda is to get back into the world of the living and the only manner, much like an illegal alien, is to marry someone from that region. Thus, Lydia becomes his unwilling bride-to-be and mortal green card by default. Just as we are introduced to the Maitland’s predicament, we see Betelgeuse thumbing through the newspaper “The Afterlife” as the shifts to what he calls the “business section,” that is, the obituary, in order to see what potential, naïve clientele have recently presented themselves. Adam, the clueless husband, literally runs around with his head cut off as the couple attempt to spook their guests. In a similar vein, Burton cunningly issues the surname “Deetz” to the yuppie family, a phonetic hop-ski-and-jump away from “ditz.” Once settled into her new home, Delia invites her agent, Bernard (Dick Cavett, Forrest Gump, Annie Hall), to evaluate her new pieces. Unable to force a kind word after Delia insists upon hearing his opinion, he juts, “If you insist on frightening people, do it with your sculpture.” Ironically, Betelgeuse is of the same aesthetic mindset in that he does just that when he possesses the various works of art in order to corral witness to his wedding.

Burton, with much bravo, incorporates and parodies many of the literary depictions of the afterlife in Beetle Juice, beginning with the title character’s inability to spell his own name correctly, erroneously billing himself as “Betelgeuse.” Considering the work is a comedy, though the term has precedence in astronomy, I’d lean toward Burton coyly smiling as he tips his hat to Douglas Adams in this regard (cf. Ford Prefect’s home). Early in the film, we see the Maitlands in a waiting room as they wait three months for a consultation with their afterlife caseworker, Juno (Silvia Sydney). Rather appropriately, this is where we find “No Exit” lit above the doorway, a spoof upon Jean-Paul Sartre’s interpretation of Hell: a room which one cannot escape which contains people whom you’d rather not spend five minutes, no less an eternity, which is exactly what Adam and Barbara are anticipating, the former having taken a number as the receptionist (Patrice Martinez, ¡Three Amigos!) requests, “Number 54,000,601.” Also, Burton comically presents Dante’s famed epic of the hereafter in that, if a person commits suicide in any form–slashing one’s wrists, hanging, throwing oneself in front of a truck—the person will be condemned to spend eternity as a civil servant, which–depending upon who you’re speaking to–is arguably worse than being cast as a tree as the Italian master would have it. We are even treated to “Dante’s Inferno Room,” a whorehouse for the undead, which Betelgeuse enters after literally becoming “thorny.” Next, and perhaps a stretch, is Betelgeuse selling his undead soul in exchange for saving the Maitlands, thus–one again–Burton flips another literary standard, that of the Faustian pact. Lastly, and without reference to the afterlife, is the premise that an undead soul can be cast between the realm of the living and the dead by uttering his or her name three times, a parody of The Wizard of Oz. Delia’s interior designer, Otho (Glenn Shadix), even quips “Don’t mind her. She’s still upset because somebody dropped a house on her sister” in reference to Bernard’s irritable friend, Beryl (Adelle Lutz). Finally, a fly screams “Help me” before being devoured by Betelgeuse as he anxiously awaits for the Maitland’s to agree to his services.

However, in lieu of all of Burton’s mockery, the film’s power is due almost solely to Michael Keaton’s over, over-the-top characterization of an unperson without a care in the world (or a conscience for that matter) as we are presented with an id running rampant throughout the duration of the movie. Visually, Betelgeuse is an echo of Doctor Caligari’s somnambulist, Cesare, yet devoid of the lethargy as the bio-exorcist rants and raves while dancing across the screen (Burton also uses Delia and Otho’s poor aesthetic sensibilities to homage Robert Wiene’s art deco architecture in his famed German masterpiece). Keaton is a delight to watch as he states that he’s “seen The Exorcist about a hundred and sixty-seven times, and it keeps getting funnier every single time I see it” as part of his paranormal resume.

Deservedly, Beetle Juice stands are one of the greatest horror comedies of all time. Tim Burton gives us a satirical glance at the great hereafter as he readily pokes fun at contemporary society. Michael Keaton offers us one of his most remarkable performances as he enacts the role of the world’s leading spook with wreckless abandon while he searches for an avenue back into the realm of the living, all the while manipulating those not as well versed in the afterlife as himself.

Conversation piece: Warner Brothers didn’t initially care for the title Burton offered. In jest, the director submitted “Scared Sheetless” as an alternative. Ironically, the studio considered the name before opting to go with his original suggestion. Also, Juliette Lewis auditioned for the role of Lydia (which I argue would have been to better effect).

-Egregious Gurnow