It’s easy to be queasy about the IP era. The obsession with pre-existing intellectual properties that has enthralled the American film industry for most of this century has metastasized through more of the arts. The appeal to producers is obvious. Somebody else already did the hard work to lodge the idea of Barbie into your head, and imbue it with positive associations. That makes you more likely to get up off your couch and go see a movie with Barbie in it.
It’s easy to say “In the good old days, they made original films with original stories. Now, all they do is IP adaptations.” and you’re not wrong. The flood of IP has crowded out original ideas, and made it more difficult for original films and theater works to break through. But any appeal to “the good old days” is always suspect. Believing that producers were more original in the “good old days” vastly overestimates the creativity of the ordinary working producer and playwright throughout history. Shakespeare based Romeo and Juliet on an existing story by Italian writer Matteo Bandello. Gone With The Wind was an adaptation of an existing IP. Stories evolve and mutate through different media. That’s just how stories work. The problem with the current IP era is that the film studios and Broadway producers are too risk-averse to give virtually any new ideas the kind of resources they need to thrive.
But the cowardice of capital is not the problem of the producers of or audience for Beetlejuice: The Musical. With music and lyrics by Australian musical comedian Eddie Perfect and book by Scott Brown and Anthony King, this version of the 1988 Tim Burton masterpiece leans heavily on nostalgia. I am familiar with every beat in Beetlejuice, from Michael Keaton’s big-swing take on a malevolent demon as coke-fueled party guest from hell to Winona Ryder’s pitch perfect turn as the OG goth girl who’s not sure if she listens to Siouxsie and the Banshees because she’s sad, or if she’s sad because she listens to Siouxsie and the Banshees.
In retrospect, Beetlejuice was a harbinger of “cozy” horror, and this production leans into it. This being Broadway, Lydia’s mother is now fridged instead of just divorced. The teenager’s pining for her dead mother sands a little bit of the Gen X cynicism off of Lydia’s angst. Beetlejuice, however, remains the crass pervert from the afterlife that never met a fourth wall he didn’t break. I occasionally wondered if the manic proceedings onstage would make any sense at all to someone who has no fond memories of a possessed Catherine O’Hara singing calypso.
But really, it didn’t matter. Because the real point of the Broadway musical is watching a talented, road-hard ensemble go to town for two hours. The twin leads of Beetlejuice: The Musical, Justin Collette and Isabella Esler, are more than up to the challenges of this super technical production. Collette brings out the carnival barker in Michael Keaton’s characterization, taking control of the crowd from the opening curtain. Esler’s Lydia leans more toward Jenna Ortega’s playfully wicked Wednesday than Ryder’s existentially wounded romantic. But could Winona’s Lydia have sung with such verve and power? Only if it was calypso, and only if it was authentic.
What makes this such a difficult show and precise show for the cast, which includes a punishingly physical turn as Delia by Kate Marilley, is the intricate production design. Burton’s Beetlejuice is an ADHD whirlwind of psychedelic images, impossible to recreate on the stage. But director Alex Timbers gives it the old college try with the help of an elaborate and seemingly infinitely flexible set. Projection mapping, the combination of technologies familiar to Memphians who experienced Christopher Reyes’ Exploratorium of Baron Von Opperbean installation in 2020, enables lightning fast scenic mood swings. Also, there’s a giant sandworm puppet that eats people.
The moments in Beetlejuice: The Musical where the needs of Big Musical Theater bumps up against idiosyncrasies of the source material are offset by the performers’ talent and energy. Tim Burton’s boldest vision is having quite a nice afterlife.
Beetlejuice: The Musical runs through Nov. 5 at the Orpheum Theatre.
