A false rumor has been circulating for the last day or two THAT THEY WOULD BE MAKING BEETLEJUICE WITHOUT ME.
Oh no, but listen to the insectile-screech of “the little guy” protesting that he won’t have his dream crushed. Such is the tale of “the little guy” as I may yet give my movie studio overlords a pause. Strange things are afoot in St. Louis, wonderful things like Dr. Frankenstein’s bizarre laboratory of UNDEAD SEQUELS.
Onwards to 30 years later. . . . . can we pull it off?
I say Beetlejuice should have a lot of screen-time, with a thicker exploration of the weird & wonderful netherworld like haunted t.v. signals and defunct “Dollar Store” plastic knock-off’s that’s true to the world of white, blue-collar squalor.
Where the highway meets– not far, yonder your local Wal-Mart, junk yard, waffle-house, and carnival. Beetlejuice lives in the hills of south St. Louis county– and we must do the character justice in this vaunted region of podunk majesty, like spangled rhine-stone cowboys.
To see it is to believe it, to know it is to love it. Coming soon to a completed screenplay near you. From tea party misfits to firecrackers going off in apartment complex parking lots, thy name is chaos– thy name is America– thy name is BEETLEJUICE!
Like other buzz-words 5 years behind the times, “DON’T GO THERE” but we will as Beetlejuice goes and busts-a-move! Lydia will be there to roll her eyes with ethereal sarcasm “keeping it real”. Ooops, did it again.
So check in, we’ll be back soon or else Beetlejuice isn’t working behind the counter at fast-food. Rather, he’s running-fast from the gorping mouths of sand-worms as the after-life comes with a certain grim ecology. . . . . . like poetic-justice and THE FINAL WORD ON FUNNY.
Here’s to Quality & Cleverness and a Wonderful World Wide Web Audience!
Coming to a graveyard near you. . . . . as Beetlejuice sits on a tomb-stone and shrugs his shoulders impishly if asked “what gives him the right”.
It takes a dark kind of soul to hang-out in a graveyard and over come the gothic kids and black metal fans in face-paint and simmering defiance as Beetlejuice welcomes them with open arms. Seem kind of young– and stupid too.
Kids always find it gratifying when adults take an interest in them. Beetlejuice could be 40 or 4000 years old with the allure of beer and cigarettes, dodging respectability. You’d call him a con-artist or bunco man as his creative reach doesn’t extend much further than using a stick to lift-up the skirt of Barbara Maitland. In craft and guile– it’s not much higher than what you’d see down at a flea market for petty thievery and other tall tales.
Putrescent rot and decay. . . . . drawn to mischief like flies to a pile of shit as a scheme is working through his putrid noggin as he’s devilishly fond of contracts.
He will give you knowledge. . . . . for a price.
What is the secret? Maybe the big answer is that there’s not really an answer– and you sell your soul to find out. It’s like “fine print”, or death– or no such thing “as a free lunch”. What will you find out? Maybe that “no matter where you go, THERE YOU ARE” as it couldn’t be any simpler or more grotesque than “free will” and “spiritual limbo”.
So what are you gonna do? Get wise, get older– “settle-down”. The world of carny’s, roadies, and trailer-living turns out to be more dreary than flashy as there we are, all giving an account for ourselves with our hands shrugged-out in the rotten perfume of wasted youth. For those who don’t believe in elder’s wisdom– soon you will become the elders and it all goes full circle as the land of death lays beyond.
What is death like? Maybe a Department of Motor Vehicles as you’re processed like a flat, laminated card until all the life is drained-out. Our miseries duly counted, not worth one whit as part of being an adult is taking responsibility while setting-aside some free time.
Sincerely, a jaded/post-teenaged poet.
Welcome to the Crypt!
Skanks, Deth-Rockers and LOST SOULS– ENTER HERE.
A HELL-FIRE GOOD TIME WILL BE HAD BY ALL.
Down at the St. Louis International Film Festival, over the weekend. Of local interest, Alex Winter from the “Bill & Ted” nostalgia-wagon was by to glad-hand at a special late-night screening, not to mention promote his own line of directorial work.
He won a local award for lifetime achievement by the local film society of artists, academics, minstrels, and poets. . . . . a far cry from what he’ll always best be remembered, for. Mixing business, pleasure, and a cultural touch-stone of local fandom as I wonder if he ever gets tired, rehashing over his “Excellent Adventure” or “Bogus Journey”, depending on how you choose to look at.
Like they said in some “View-Askew” Kevin Smith moment, I guess the internet is an excuse to bat around porn files back & forth and otherwise cluster around movie nostalgia.
The world belongs to the fans– and hungry they are, for “fresh meat”. Or the carcass of Beetlejuice dragged-out in his old pin-striped suit as there’s putrescent juice left in the franchise, yet. Bloating potential and chock-full of squirming, squiggling maggots as I’d like to refer to film-can scavengers as something, nobler.
Beetlejuice is like the splattered possum of a misbegotten sequel no one quite gets around to shoveling off the super information highway of rumor, fan-art, and hope. Tap that vein– that rich, rich vein as I’m sure this blog is generating interest, somewhere.
On a softly-ominous portent “of what might be”, the Beetlejuice Rockin’ Graveyard Revue is closing-down at Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida as you wonder about the remnants of hoosier heaven south in Tampa– and where the real fun’s at.
Easily transposed to the wilds of South St. Louis, Beetlejuice never dies in spirit and will walk among us so long as there’s truck stops, carnivals, and fireworks stands– and you can bet your bottom dollar that he’ll be sleazing around your neighborhood, or in a word-processing program late at night on my home computer.
So say it once, say it twice– third time’s a charm– “SCREENPLAY, SCREENPLAY, SCREENPLAY”. The madness continues as you’re in store for no end of fun. As sure as the trailer rolls-up to my backyard to take permanent residence as you hear the barking dogs and banging trash-cans as Beetlejuice takes possession of myself, as muse– and won’t die-down until the money rolls in, at long last.
The epitaph on this one will be “The Final Word”. Sequel-juice! Sequel-juice! Sequel-juice! Because one good turn deserves another– and you can just call be “The Necro-Butcher” of WordPress blogging. See you again, right here tomorrow.
A spooky, effective entrance– rather “death-obsessed” and perhaps a side avenue in our growing plot. Does “The Undertaker” make a cameo appearance in “Beetlejuice 2”? Well, stock-footage is the only limit as this promo for “Summer Slam ’92” speaks for itself down at the ole’ WWF network. Or correct me– “WWE”.
It is a realm of “tall tales” or what in the business is known as “kayfabe”, a sort of Lone Ranger/Tonto word for “never breaking character” or admitting that the show is just “an act”. Call these wrestlers “madder than method” but they really become these characters as you never surrender the story– and how fans get caught-up in the rivalries.
And we never break character here, up on WordPress– selling you the greatest movie on earth and whooping it up on this corner of the internet– until Warner Bros. comes by and slaps me with an injunction for dancing all over a copyrighted franchise.
So what would that look like in “the legal ring”? Well, Beetlejuice would get dropped like a sack of maggots, breaking the fold-out chair and thoroughly getting his ass trounced by a bigger, fiercer opponent as the audience yawned.
Well, for all of its creativity– this movie fluctuates between vulgar social commentary and then a clever play on the 21st century. Just see that 7-Eleven full of black chrome motorcycles with orange flame decals and an “Eminem-looking figure” downing Mountain Dew in a giant Big Gulp cup, wondering what “the hell you’re talking about”.
And then– the larger circle of an international audience as all will be made to understand– Beetlejuice crunching through the fold-out table.
(– Roll that beautiful clip again)
Slapstick n’ clever plays on culture as this film will truly be a lone stand-out in the movie financing world of creative risk. . . . . .
Never stop believin’, kids.