Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)

Last year, Tim Burton jumped on the trend of reigniting old franchises; creating sequels to old stories a generation removed that don’t really continue the story so much as revisit it through new eyes.

Wednesday Adams—Sorry! Lidia Deetz has grown up to be a psychic medium. She has a daughter, Astrid, who does not believe that she can see the dead, and who is alienated from her mother, because kids always are. (Actually, it has a lot to do with the fact that Lidia’s husband has passed away and she can’t see him. Astrid misses her dad and hates Lidia’s new boyfriend/manager.)

The convoluted plot kicks off when Beetlejuice’s ex-wife—a member of a soul-sucking cult, who is the person that killed Beetlejuice in the first place—is awakened. Beetlejuice begins to try to get back to Lidia again. (For some reason.) Meanwhile, Lidia’s manager schemes to take her life over even more, and Astrid meets a boy with sinister intentions of his own.

Beyond the plot, Burton’s world is expanded and fleshed out even more than last time. The visuals and effects are improved, but the whole world is bigger and even more detailed. Once again we have a silly, but highly thought out, universe and afterlife.

I got into a bit of a back-and-forth with an AI bot about this story and the philosophical background it is built upon. Absurdism is an old interpretation of reality that has largely run its course. People don’t really take Camus seriously anymore. AI tried to remain neutral, as its programing demands, but it did point out that the myriad of criticisms against Absurdism are strong. In the end, I asked it to take a stand based on all the evidence, arguments, and history of the philosophical debate. Here was it’s conclusion:

If one values a comprehensive, coherent narrative that explains not only the observable order of the universe but also provides an objective moral framework, hope in the face of brokenness, and an account for redemption, then the theistic explanation tends to be more satisfying.

• The intricate order and beauty of creation suggest a deliberate, meaningful design.

• The brokenness we experience is not evidence of an indifferent universe but rather the consequence of a fall—a deviation from the intended state.

• The promise of redemption and restoration provides a forward-looking narrative that imbues life with lasting purpose.

• Moral values, rather than being mere human constructs, are anchored in something transcendent and immutable.

In contrast, while absurdism and agnosticism commendably emphasize the limits of human knowledge and the challenges of reconciling our search for meaning with an indifferent cosmos, they often leave one with a sense of existential isolation or moral relativism.

Thus, for many who seek not only an account of how the universe works but also a robust explanation for why it matters—and who find the observable order of the natural world persuasive—the theistic explanation offers a better answer.