A vintage “Halloween” sort of interview from 1989 on the old Arsenio Hall show. The stoic actor beneath the hockey mask manages “to keep a straight face” as an eerie guest “silent as the tomb”. Must be beetlejuice’s neighbor in the trailer park, down the dirt-gravel road by the old fence.
The new “Jay & Silent Bob”? Beetlejuice talks for the two of them, both. . . . . as “it’s show time”.
And fate has it, that Beetlejuice 2 has recruited a new writer. Good night & good luck, don’t forget to tap “a bit of backwoods, underground talent” if you’re ever stuck.
Don’t forget. . . . . a funny treatment on the subject.
In the style of “The Addams’ Family”, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and other ookey, spooky properties Beetlejuice doffs the hat and twirls the cane in the “Bigtime, showtime”. Call it tin-pan alley or merely just a playbill for you, he will pull entertainment out of his hat “like a real song & dance man” of twisted, devilish joy for the whole family.
Once again, St. Louis finds itself in the news. You can’t help but think of the haggard, run-down streets and climbing National Debt clock. Something tells me Beetlejuice would stir up much trouble and gibbitude, passing-along rumors through the gathered throng of protestors “like Satan’s Kid Brother’. Sowing chaos, “he feeds off your famine” and makes “a tidy profit” off of looted stores, abandoned cars, and popular discord. Life is short and money burns faster. . . . . “Law of the world” and funnier truths not talked about “before polite company”. At this rate, the producers will want to shoot “Beetlejuice 2” in Toronto, instead.
Just press play AND WATCH. . . . . .
In Hitlelrian Germany, it would have been called “degenerate art”.
Variety is the food of life and dare you drink from the bandleader’s goblet, one funky party of artists and weridos and punk-jazz fusion-ists against a checkered background, sipping champagne.
Maybe an offshoot of Pee Wee Herman WEIRDNESS circa 1980 and midnight movie attraction for late-night moths.
Imagine a kinky art school musical made to look like a Betty Boop cartoon and you have Danny Elfman as bandleader before, more or less, he became the permanent creative collaborative partner with Tim Burton.
Why, they were MADE for each other! You’ll see why the union was inevitable and kids, young and old alike, are delighted. Even adults must have fun.
PARENTAL DISCRETION ADVISED.
Legend has it that the solar eclipse was a dragon flying through the sky, devouring the sun. . . . . as galactic forces commune in harmonic rhythm and flare burning trails of star-dust, confluence, and coincidence.
“Solace of quantum” accents aside, maybe Beetlejuice was just “gone, fishin’”.
Hanging out on the Illinois side of the river by the Cahokia Mounds, tawny hillsides constructed by Indians 1000 years ago. Kind of “a burial ground”, as you could say.
This bodes well for mischief, whether it’s Beetlejuice flying up through the sky spread-eagled with his whirling face imprinted on the sun in a ghastly, moss-toothed rictus. . . . . his hair like a tangled corona of graveyard dirt.
Earthen decay and solar indifference across the star-lit sky, a solar calendar of strange & unusual happenings like shimmering blood-jelly and shooting jets of sperm.
(– It also smells REAL BAD)
Incidentally, in terms of cosmic confluence—HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TIM BURTON.
And a friendly pat on the shoulders of my creative rivals and compatriots Seth Grahame-Smith and David Katzenberg. . . . . the new Stephen King “It” adaption looks like a worthy successor and follow-up to the 1990 made-for-tv interpretation.
To box-office success and healthy backend residual compensation FOR EVERYBODY! Hollywood is a great place IF YOU PUT IN THE WORK. “Gee-whiz” factor aside, this entertainment business IS HEAVY SHIT.
Beetlejuice awaits instruction as he checks his watch and cocks his ear. IT’S SHOW-TIME!!!!!
By the rules of some strange, inverted geography. . . . . .
And stranger still, echoing through the twisting halls of the dead. . . . . .
Like “13 steps” to nowhere. . . . . . you’ll end up SOMEWHERE.
Beetlejuice infests the outback and pops-up in the little model of the town. The rolling, green hills against the pin-pricked darkness of stars, whether standing outside in the open air or tiny and shrunk beneath the rafters of the Maitlin’s attic-space.
You’ll find him “haunting the premises” and setting-up his equivalent of an E-Z finance, bronco-bustin’ used car-lot and open ghost audition like a lasso-waving cowboy.
The midnight-madness hours of zany after-life circumstance. . . . . you’ll be sayin’ “hot-diggity-dawg ALL THE WAY HOME” but begin to regret the contract you hold in your hands after making all but two steps off the lot of the proverbial “fast-sell”.
Faster than your head can spin!
And on to another “spin-off” property just down the road, swampy Florida’s own “Sausage Castle”.
If you ever thought “ole’ Beetlejuice waltzin’ off to THE WHOREHOUSE” was pretty funny, you’ll be equally as stunned by this depraved “party house” and 24-hour backyard BBQ.
Equally off-the-grid and a living natural disaster where freaks, misfits, and weirdos party “at a real clown-house” of depravity and “Dollar-Store” accoutrements like kiddie-pools, one’s feet soaking in dirty water as you down serial pina coladas and a turd floats by.
Read about it here. . . . . . https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/qbeye5/the-sausage-castle-is-the-most-depraved-and-holsome-house-in-florida-456
Beetlejuice would crash the premises and stay up all hours. Find him sitting in a lawn-chair, grilling meat at 7 A.M. and chuckling to himself as he turns over the pork with a pair of tongs and a fork.
Pleasure Island, or “just hell on earth”? You’ll be that greasy, crackling morsel frying out on the bbq-pit of the damned, sandworms in chef-hats serving out your ass as the best metaphor for “falling out of the rat race” AND INTO THE FIRE.
If you’re “looking for action” it should sooner be taking up the holy robes of high religiosity, even as Beetlejuice throws-up in the bouncing clown-house and staggers over to the outside porta-potty.
Just his luck that a gang of miscreants tips it over and he washes out in a torrent of sewage like a dead fish.
They’ll have to “shower him off” with a garden hose as he spats-up water and washes behind his ears, his hair in a reeking tangle as the sun shines “way too bright”.
In America it’s your right to be proud, ignorant, and free as respectable society beats a respectable distance and holds its nose.
I think there’s enough fetid material here to bring back “THE JUICE”. Let it not be “poop-juice” but he’s going to be pretty sick and too hung-over to come into work the next night.
That’s what A.A. is for, or “After-Life Anonymous”.
Make a name for yourself. . . . . . and support this new documentary coming out that explores the actual Beetlejuice movie source material from 30 years ago. Say “his name” three times OR BE A VAGRANT ON THE SIDEWALK OF LIFE.