If common folk tend to ignore “the strange and unusual” I think we’d say that Beetlejuice and his slimy, bumptious ilk are a part of a subculture of beings people choose not to see.
Life is full of traffic and commerce, but then you peek around the dark edges where weirdos and hair-tangled mad-men make their abode. I can see Beetlejuice in a flop-house, or with torn, sprung-shoes standing in an apartment complex, swigging back booze as it’s what we choose “not to see”.
Ghosts don’t exactly make “reputable company” because in life, “things hold-over”– a complaint, a need, a thirst– lingering-on and then lingering-on some more,
. Barbara and Adam Maitland were respectable– hey, but then got caught-up in the system as the after-life is kind of like a welfare-office, or just “hanging-on” when it’s the inheritance of endless dead time and otherwise, hustlers “cooking up a scheme”.
To say that the after-life is boring, or just a refracted mirror image of modern 20th century life when it must be like staying-home, with a disability check. What to do, but to dwell all day on the state of “being in-between” but neither “here, nor there”.
I’m sure when they’re otherwise, not house-bound and haunting their abode Barbara and Adams are otherwise watching t.v. and waiting for higher direction, like an imperative from the state social-security office.
Bureaucracy is damning and the state rusts by on dusty, squealing hinges as no one knows “what’s up” and the privatized 1-800-NUMBER is forever out of service. Hurry up and wait, roll over and bury yourself under paperwork.
Other than the whacky, spatstic physics– I don’t think “being dead” would be all too fun. I guess “some level of ourselves” remain up some branching directive of higher-levels as the essence “remains behind” like the drip from a oil refinery as call it, “Karma” but the ectoplasma drips down to a lower level until it’s churned-out again and rises like cream to the top.
And to think that Beetlejuice, himself is made out of some pretty unclean stuff. What would he be incarnated as, to see him “at home with the beetles”, rot, and other dirt scrabbling across a coffin lid as he rises and otherwise inflicts himself upon freshly-deceased humanity.
Bumming a cigarette or offering to sell you a clown-hearse, death “is bad news” and full of the con-artists and flim-flam men and other bullshit.
What did you expect, to be “happy”? If there’s a lesson, there it’s “no matter where you go, there you are” as this is a kind of “feel-good” movie about life and death and the entire netherworld in-between.
So Beetlejuice 2, coming to a theater soon– near you. Until then, don’t take any wooden nickels as this blog is worth its own weight in gold. We’re glad you think so, too and keep visiting. We will be back, soon as never give-up hope and call this “a dead project”.