Review: ‘Beetlejuice’ has the look, lacks the charm

According to ‘80s lore, saying his name three times has the power to summon the spirit of “Beetlejuice.” Apparently, the creators of this bloated Broadway musical in his honor stopped short of that number.

Although visually evocative of the fantastical Tim Burton universe, this charmless musical utterly lacks the wit and whimsy that made the 1988 film such a cult classic.

In fact this adaptation is so uninspired that it’s scary. The clever opening Beetlejuice number, replete with winking theater in-jokes, nods to $50 glasses of wine and meta-theatrical tropes, marks a high water point for the moribund show. “Holy crap! A ballad already!,” snarks our favorite ghoul. Alas, it’s all downhill from there.

Of course, it’s always a tricky business reincarnating famous performances. Justin Collette plays the title specter with frat boy rambunctiousness but it’s a losing battle trying to evoke Michael Keaton’s manic brand of quirky lechery as the ghost with the most.

Nevada Riley, the understudy for San Jose native Isabella Esler, gets saddled with so many bland ballads that it sucks the fun right out of the disaffected gothic teen, Lydia (the Winona Ryder part). And no one will ever match Catherine O’Hara, of “Schitt’s Creek” fame, for sheer bravado in the demonic possession scene. Still, Kate Marilley as Delia has the most kooky flair of anyone in this production and her effervescence makes a lot of scenes seem less dead.

Directed by Alex Timbers, the largely listless musical so wholly lacks a sense of camp, a hallmark of the original, that you might think the creators had never seen the film. Or they didn’t get what made it special. If, like me, you have very fond memories of the movie, you might get a little peeved.

This moribund adaptation certainly tries way too hard to give everyone a backstory they don’t need. It’s so relentlessly over-the-top and sentimental that it’s draining to watch. Even if you are dying to love the beloved “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)” scene, you may feel cheated.

Beetlejuice, for instance, had an unhappy childhood. He just wants someone to love him. Lydia can’t stop singing generic ballads about her dead mom.

It’s like a cheesy Hallmark movie version of a Tim Burton film. Only you can’t muster up any real feeling for any of these characters. When Barbara (Britney Coleman) and Adam Maitland (Will Burton) perish, you don’t feel the tenderness that marked the film.

The narrative gets dumbed-down, raunched up and stretched thin here. Be forewarned that some of the sex gags cross over into cringe territory.

One particularly egregious bit of padding is the interminable interlude in the netherworld, where time certainly stands still for the audience. It does, at least, nicely evoke the existential pain of a never-ending limbo.

Perhaps that sort of thing is inevitable when turning a madcap 90-minute romp into a 2 hour, 40 minute opus but it leaves devotees of the original yearning for a quick Netflix fix. We deserve a little more life in our afterlife.

Contract Karen D’Souza at [email protected].

‘BEETLEJUICE’

Book by Scott Brown and Anthony King, music and lyrics by Eddie Perfect

Through: Dec. 31

Where: Golden Gate Theatre, 1 Taylor St., San Francisco

Running time: Two hours, 40 minutes, one intermission

Tickets: $66.50-$184.50; www.broadwaysf.com