Well, “pardon my dust” Pee Wee– as we’ll keep it PG-rated and presume that our undead redneck hero is high, off the essence of crushed bullfrogs and ground-up beetles instead of whiskey and cocaine. There comes a point, when you see enough heavy metal guitar players with long, stringy beards and ungraceful aging, when you figure it’s far-more creative, to find a round-about way to explain the behavior of Beetlejuice.
Tim Burton’s movies always focused on “outsiders”, misfits on the edges “looking-in” as Beetlejuice happened to be a higher-octane character, than most. Maybe he was just manic-depressive, the raring tangle of yellow hair like a lion-faced gargoyle “pressing-in, on people”. Let’s say, he was “high on life” and not some kind of needy attention-vampire who was left, outside for too long.
For what really makes Beetlejuice tick? A lost soul, maybe– always restless, always rattling-the-chains of his earthly banishment.
Maybe he should consider trying a new toothpaste.