The Prince Edward Theatre in London has been transformed into a haunted spectacle for the arrival of Beetlejuice: The Musical. The Musical. The Musical. While the production boasts drop-dead gorgeous designs and spirited performances, this quirky adventure struggles with inconsistent humor and forgettable tunes.
Halloween has seemingly arrived early in the West End with this latest movie-to-musical adaptation. The art deco theatre is now adorned with spooky purple and green lights, and a sandworm slithers around the auditorium, setting the stage for a decidedly macabre experience that kicks off with an evil cackle. Tim Burton’s 1988 cult classic is brought back to life through song and dance.
Audiences might also feel like Christmas has come early, thanks to the pantomime-level of random gags, topical references, direct audience engagement, and an overall chaotic energy. The show includes jokes about hipster vapes, a groan-worthy “six-seven” pun, and jabs at James Corden. There’s also a fair amount of blasphemy directed at musical theatre royalty, from a quip about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s severed head to two expletive-laden tirades against the beloved new West End star, Paddington Bear. While entertaining in their own right, these distractions somewhat detract from the meticulously crafted worlds within the story.
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The Prince Edward Theatre, London
There are visually stunning designs and the performances are full of energy, but this off-kilter escapade suffers from scattered jokes and unmemorable songs.
Halloween has arrived early as yet another movie is transformed into a musical hitting the West End. This art deco theatre has become a haunted house festooned with purple and green lights. A sandworm coils around the auditorium, and the show kicks off with an evil cackle. Tim Burton’s 1988 favorite fright-night film is reanimated with song and dance as, to give it its full title, Beetlejuice: The Musical. The Musical. The Musical. Bring on the skeletal chorus line!
You might also find that Christmas has come early, too, due to the panto-level of random gags, topical references, direct audience address, and chaotic spirit. There are jokes about hipster vapes, a groan-worthy “six-seven” pun, James Corden, and plenty of heresy against musical-theatre royalty, ranging from a quip about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s decapitated head to two foul-mouthed tirades against the West End’s adored new arrival, Paddington Bear. All of these elements serve to distract from the carefully designed worlds of the story.