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How to watch Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

2024 · Tim Burton · Beetlejuice Beetlejuice on Sightlines

5 things to watch and listen for on a first viewing, without spoilers, and 4 more once you have seen it. Each names something you can see or hear, the pattern it belongs to, and what noticing it gives you. How these keys work.

On a first viewing

  1. Look for visible seams: puppet joints, staples, sets that look like sets. (setting)

    Burton builds with stop-motion, miniatures, prosthetics, and forced perspective, and he lets you see the joins. Digital work is demoted to cleanup. The shrunken heads and the reassembled office staff were made by hands.

    Payoff: In 2024 a studio could have rendered all of this without a join. Seeing the seam is the film's position.

  2. Watch for rooms washed in a single hard red or green. (light)

    The world of the living runs saturated and storybook. The Afterlife turns sickly green, purple, fluorescent. In the Italian-horror asides the color stops describing the room and swallows it, the way Bava lit.

    Payoff: Color tells you which world you are in before anyone speaks, and which older horror film the room was borrowed from. In the reading: affective color. A room drowned in one hue is what the reading calls affective color: the color stops describing the scene and becomes it.

  3. Watch the Afterlife corridors: canted angles, stripes, geometry that never lines up. (staging)

    The dead run a civil service of case-workers, waiting rooms, and paperwork. Burton draws the architecture out of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, where perspective was painted onto flats. Objects there move and want on their own.

    Payoff: Death in this film is an office, and the office is drawn by a silent German horror movie. Both jokes run at once.

  4. Count how few minutes Keaton is actually on screen. (performance)

    Betelgeuse talks fast, leers, and changes his pitch to fit whoever is listening. He hands out business cards for a profession he invented. Keaton plays him as a vaudeville act dropped into someone else's house.

    Payoff: He is not a character with a goal. He is an appetite, and the film keeps him scarce so the appetite stays loud. In the reading: le faussaire. A bio-exorcist with printed business cards is what the reading calls le faussaire, the forger: he manufactures the truth he needs as he talks.

  5. Listen for Elfman's carnival orchestra and the choir riding over it. (sound)

    Danny Elfman scored the 1988 film and returns here, quoting his own music. The orchestration is manic and circus-like, with choral flourishes that make a scare and a gag land in the same gesture.

    Payoff: The score tells you how to take each scene. Horror and comedy arrive on the same note instead of taking turns.

Once you have seen it

  1. Watch Ryder's face in the rooms she stood in as a teenager. (structure)

    The house, the attic, the model town, and the striped suit all come back from 1988. Ryder carries her own adolescence into every frame of them. Lydia is now the parent who cannot see her child.

    Payoff: The doubling lands on the story's actual wound. Lydia is not remembering the door her daughter opens. She is standing in it. In the reading: hyalosign. A present and its memory wound so tightly together that you cannot separate them is what the reading calls the hyalosign.

  2. Watch who stops moving once the wedding song starts. (cutting)

    Prychidny cuts the big numbers as self-contained set pieces that detach from the plot around them. At the wedding the characters go still and the spectacle moves instead. The 1988 film did this with Belafonte.

    Payoff: The plot does not resolve at that wedding. The number resolves it by spectacle, and the whole film is built to permit that.

  3. Count the subplots that never converge. (structure)

    Bellucci's Delores, Dafoe's afterlife detective, Delia's grief-art, and the teenage romance run in parallel without knotting together. The 1988 film was episodic by design, and the sequel inherits that architecture.

    Payoff: The looseness is the property's comic shape. Gags outrank causality here, and the strands are left loose on purpose.

  4. Watch the image switch to black and white in the flashback. (camera)

    The origin flashback changes stock and lights itself like vintage Italian horror. Elsewhere the Caligari corridors carry 1920 and the hard color gels carry 1977. Each room is borrowed from a different decade.

    Payoff: The pastiche is the film's method of time travel. You reach a past by changing the material the image is made of.

Carry this in: Look for the seams. Ask which decade each room was borrowed from, and which of the monsters somebody's hands actually built.

A Deleuzian reading of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice →

How Beetlejuice Beetlejuice was received →