Burton outdoes himself

Entertainment is served in generous measure.

- Hein Kaiser

There is simply no other filmmaker like Tim Burton. The man whose imagination gave the world Edward Scissorhands, best Batman flick forever, Ed Wood and Corpse Bride, among a host of must-watch films, has done it again.

His sequel to Beetlejuice, 36 years after the original 1988 production, is doubly brilliant.

As sequels go, no matter what creators do, they will always be compared to a predecessor.

In Beetlejuice’s case, time has passed to almost fit in two generations, many of them oblivious to the genius of the manic, troublemaking demon played by Michael Keaton in the first installment and reprised with the same slap-in-the-face gargle and choke hyperactivity in the second.

Winona Ryder also returns as Lydia Deetz, this time as a middle-aged mom and television psychic, because so many years have passed since she last danced with Beetlejuice.

She still dons the 18th-century clobber. She’s mom, vulnerable and scarred with life.

Her daughter is played by Wednesday, also known as Jenna Ortega, a new generation of Gen Z rebellion and funk.