London Theatre Review: Beetlejuice The Musical

Wow, wow, wow. The atmosphere of the opening night of this hotly anticipated musical was electric. Audience members were dressed up for the occasion too with plenty of striped outfits and green wigs, a sign that for hardcore Beetlejuice fans, this was a big moment.

It didn’t disappoint; energetic, chaotic and unapologetic, this adaptation of Beetlejuice The Musical, almost 40 years after the iconic Tim Burton film, gave the audience one hell of a show. It may have taken eight years for the show to come and haunt the West End after gathering a cult following during its Broadway run from 2019, but the verdict? This big, bold, loud production was worth waiting for. 

Telling the story of Lydia Deetz, a strange teenager who shares her home with a pair of newly-deads and the demonic ghost Beetlejuice, the show is a spectacle from start to finish. Technically it is very complex, with an impressive 200+ special effects. The haunted house set changes with the help of the ghost-like drape curtains, framing a somewhat gothic-cartoon type feel throughout. 

A copy and paste jobby, Beetlejuice The Musical is not, but think of it as more of a cousin to the original movie - it was clear that director Alex Timbers had approached it as a new musical, rather than a souvenir booklet of the film.  

For a start, in the original movie, we’re not introduced to Beetlejuice until about 40 minutes in, and even then, Michael Keaton’s character only appears on screen for about 17 minutes. Thankfully, the musical gave us much more with the fabulously outlandish David Fynn (who was nominated for an Olivier Award for his part in the School of Rock) given a huge stage presence throughout. In fact, we were introduced to him as the show’s ringmaster and MC to begin with as Fynn sets the scene about The Whole Being Dead Thing.

“Sexy, dead… and now in the West End”, Fynn’s sass, shock tactics and comic references had the audience in stitches, although there were gasps and laughter in equal measure at times, particularly at the close-to-the bone comments about Paddington The Musical.

There’s no filter. Live-wire Fynn switched from demonic to humorously whimsical and kept us on our toes throughout. There is nothing subtle about this production - it’s loud, fun and memorable with something happening in every corner of the stage. One moment there’s a huge Sandworm terrifying the characters, the next a gospel choir appears; the racy pace matched the high energy of the audience, expectations high, reactions even bigger. 

What the producers have so brilliantly done is to create that feeling of the unexpected with parts feeling like improvisation. You’re on the edge of your seat wondering what’s going to happen and what Beetlejuice is going to say, and yet everything is timed to the absolute millisecond. The choreography by the brilliant Connor Gallagher is razor-sharp and yet chaotic. 

Underpinning the outlandish humour and wildness, the show’s emotional anchor comes in waves with themes of grief, loneliness and belonging, bringing an unexpected heart-warming feel. We’re given glimpses of tender moments, mainly focused on the strained relationship between grieving Lydia Deetz (Hannah Nordberg) and her dad Charles (Alasdair Harvey), with the hilarious and haphazard step-mum Delia Deetz (Aimie Atkinson) thrown into the mix. 

There are plenty incredible performances, from Lydia’s impeccable vocals, particularly in her Dead Mom rendition, to the adorable Maitlands (Chelsea Halfpenny and David Hunter) as well as the wonderful Chasity Crisp (it’s her West End debut) whose character Juno’s hair is as big and puffy as the smoke she breathes. Even the hilarious ‘life coach’ Otho (Richard Frame) had us in stitches and a particular favourite was the possession scene with the classic Day-O (The Banana Boat Song), the cast demonstrating their impeccable timing and talent. 

Chaotic, strange and unusual, Beetlejuice doesn’t hold back. It’s unapologetic, a combination of musical theatre and dark comedy at its best. Leave your inhibitions at the entrance of the theatre and strap in for the ride of your after-life.