2024 marks 36 years since Michael Keaton’s crackpot bio-exorcist made his cinematic début, but a sequel to Tim Burton’s 1988 horror comedy classic has been in the works for years. Since 1998, various new iterations of the character’s story have been handed around the writers’ room (“Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian” being the working title of one), but aside from a 2019-20 Broadway musical adaptation, Beetlejuice has long been languishing in development hell.

Such is it that Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’s release comes at a time when Hollywood is already inundated with sequels, reboots and remakes that attempt to capitalise on the popularity of long-dead intellectual property. In this sequel, Winona Ryder and Catherine O’Hara reprise their roles as Lydia and Delia Deetz, both of whom have adapted to their lives after their encounter with the bio-exorcist: Lydia hosts a successful syndicated television show called ‘Ghost House’, where she uses her ability to resolve guests’ supernatural grievances. Delia meanwhile has redirected her artistic attentions away from sculpture and towards her own art show entitled ‘The Human Canvas’. After the death of Charles, Delia’s husband (played by Jeffrey Jones in the original film), Delia, Lydia and Astrid, Lydia’s daughter, move back into ‘Ghost House’, where their first encounter with Beetlejuice took place.

New additions to the original cast line-up include Jenna Ortega, hot off the heels of Burton’s wildly successful Wednesday, as Astrid. Justin Theroux stars as Rory, Lydia’s boyfriend and production manager; Monica Bellucci plays Beetlejuice’s undead ex-wife, Dolores; and Willem Dafoe is Wolf Jackson, a former actor who after his death is appointed leader of the Afterlife Crimes Unit.

There’s a lot to love about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. On the one hand, it’s a joy to see Ryder, O’Hara and Keaton reprise their roles and build upon their respective storylines. Winona Ryder’s passing of the cynical goth daughter torch to Jenna Ortega is seamless, and further demonstrates how well both Ryder and Ortega complement Burton’s directorial style. Justin TherouCan x and Monica Bellucci are great additions to the cast, each with their own satisfying character arcs. Willem Dafoe, as he is wont to do these days, just seems like he’s just happy to be there (with half of his brain exposed to the audience, no less); and Danny Devito’s brief cameo as an undead sanitation worker adds a risible touch to the film’s mordant tone. Moreover, the film involves several touching moments between Lydia, Astrid and Astrid’s deceased father that establish themes of grief and loss more explicitly than the original film did.

But on the other hand, the absence of Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin as the Maitlands, Ghost House’s OG deceased tenants, is palpable. Jeffrey Jones’ absence also becomes particularly jarring during a claymation death sequence that attempts to account for his absence, as does the choral rendition of Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)—a staple from the first film—that accompanies lowering of his casket.

But given the arsenal of iconic moments from the first film that planted it firmly in popular culture, it’s no surprise that Beetlejuice Beetlejuice attempts to tread familiar ground and exhume what still remains of its predecessor: Harry Belafonte’s diegetic soundtrack is replaced with Richard Harris’ “McArthur Park” and accompanying possession-dance break; there’s a flyover opening sequence redux, set to Danny Elfman’s “Opening Titles”; even the Lydia and Beetlejuice’s marriage and subsequent Sandworm deus ex machina is rehashed during the film’s denouement.

Of course, with such beloved intellectual property, and a studio system that prioritises squeezing the life out of every previously successful IP, it's no surprise that Burton reverts to trying to hit these beats again. But Beetlejuice Beetlejuice also feels very, almost insufferably, 2024: Justin Theroux’s Rory embodies everything intolerable about the New Age movement that has come to fruition in recent years. The film involves couples therapy scenes in the afterlife, and is peppered with the therapy speak of the zeitgeist. There is even a scene where guests at Lydia and Beetlejuice’s wedding are quite literally “sucked in” to the phones they are trying to record the event on.

It’s not as though Beetlejuice Beetlejuice really sets itself up to have anything to say anything about these aspects of the modern experience, or speak to the cultural gulf between now and when the first film was released. But the film also falls victim to having too many plot lines and character arcs, which, in the 104-minute runtime, gives them very little space to breathe. Dialogue and character interactions frequently feel stunted or “off” at various points throughout the film, neither “cinematic” enough nor “real” enough to be believable on either front. At one point in the film, Beetlejuice even adopts a Fleabag-esque breaking of the fourth wall while being interviewed by Dafoe’s Jackson about acting. This moment typifies the sentiments of the film writ large—it’s conscious of the original film’s tongue-in-cheek ethos, and the licence this would give any sequel to lean into the kitsch and absurd. But what the film gains from its elevated practical effects, courtesy of its $100 million production budget, it sacrifices the giddy charm and narrative cohesion that gave the first film its staying power. Fans who grew up watching the 1988 cult classic will no doubt be satisfied by what the film has to offer, but there isn’t anything said or done in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice that distinguishes it from the slew of other sequels that seem unable to step too far out of their antecedent’s shadows.