Beetlejuice Part 2

This is such a silly film, and it feels like it’s directly commenting on so much while also simultaneously making fun of itself. I often find myself marveling at the actor’s ability to portray avant garde character traits in a completely believable filmic way—this is no easy task my friends. Often, when you audition for network procedurals (Chicago Fire, Law and Order SVU, etc.), you’ll get the most heightened scene (or an equivalent) with deep fear, joy, or despair because they wanna know if you can make it believable. And you have to just dig in and sell it, and somehow make those circumstances super real for yourself. It’s a little easier in theatre because there’s a level of remove, but in film that lens is right up in your face, so you better believe what you’re saying and seeing. And every single character in Beetlejuice does. No one is pushing, everyone immediately grabs your attention on screen, and they all maintain this believable magnetism through the STRANGEST circumstances. (Don’t even get me started on screaming in terror at what could have been a stuffed animal on a pole to be the sandworm, pre-FX.)

All this is to say, you need this level of commitment to make something engaging, but especially if it’s fantastical, and Paulo and Carolyn are giving you a masterclass here. They’re making it look easy by engaging and exploring and wondering. I wanna just give my friends some flowers a second. Playing improv for story (and not for jokes—just as valid, but different techniques) is not easy, but when you have a group of friends who jump in wholeheartedly, it becomes something else. You’ve probably been at tables like that, when that shimmering ball of shared imagination at the center just explodes into losing track of hours, what’s going on outside, and even the recent argument over pizza toppings on that evening’s shared order. What magic. What silly, wonderful, heart-forward magic.

And don’t we need that right now? More than ever.

-joz