From the outset of Broadway’s touring “Beetlejuice,” playing through Sept. 17 at the Buell Theatre, audiences must spend some of the goodwill earned by director Tim Burton’s 1988 afterlife comedy.that visited the Buell a little over a year ago, however, “Beetlejuice” makes good on its circuslike source by thrusting its characters into outrageous, broadly comic situations that succeed on the audacity of their staging and performances.
Collette ushers in a garish, purple-and-green lighting scheme that surrounds his vaudevillian salesmanship. His lines are notably profane compared to the film, with quips and class-conscious critiques so rapid-fire and harsh I barely had time to clock them. A charismatic performer is essential for the role, and Collette’s comic timing feels as much smart casting as director Alex Timbers’ snappy hand.
Lydia is quietly furious at her father Charles for never acknowledging his dead wife , particularly as he soft-peddles his romance with Delia , his life coach and soon-to-be fiancée. The melodramatic Delia is here repurposed from the film’s art dabbler to a witless Instagram influencer drowning in her sales vocabulary.
Despite the number of kids in the audience, this “Beetlejuice” is an unapologetically gross and overtly sexual show. Collette plays the main character as masculinity’s fragile, obnoxious id, impish and glowering in his depravity. But the literal and figurative middle fingers are less nihilism than button-pushing humor.