Beetlejuice's Craziness is as Valid as Feelings are
Elvis had left the building anyway.
When I watched Beetlejuice–the movie–for the first time, I wasnt older than eight years old. I will always remember the enthusiasm of my dad.
I have a fantastic film to show you, kids. You are going to love it!, he said.
Of course, my concern as a eight-year-old-kid was to know beforehand if it would be scary.
Scary? No, it is really fun, see it for yourself, he replied to my brother and me.
Okay, well, I believe I stopped trusting all that my parents could say to me from that moment.
Don't get me wrong here, though, Beetlejuice is not really scary per se, yet, it is a strange creature not very sympathetic and pretty rude. So, no wonder, I identified the dude as a weirdo when I saw his face with my young and naive eyes, and his look, on the TV over 20 years ago now.
The thing is that that same kid who tended to be scared of anything (and a pain in the ass most of the time) finally grew up: so, me. Not only was I getting tougher, but my tastes and passions were evolving like crazy too. It turned out that a few years later, I realized I was a big, huge and timeless fan of Tim Burton and his artistic world. Up to a point, I have different books related to him; that I binge on Corpse Bride anytime I feel sad; that I listen to Danny Elfman for hours on any day; and that I wish I could collect all Jack's figures from Nightmare before Christmas. But my apartment would end up looking like a freaking museum, so I just help myself by not splurging money on those.
However, when Broadway announced in March 2019 the arrival of a new show wearing the very same name as the dude designed with a black and white striped outfit, I was no longer giving a damn about splurging or not.
As a result, two weeks later, I was rolling on the floor laughing just by watching it, and I was still laughing at it months later when I remembered some parts of the show. At least, I was still laughing at it until March 2020.
While I was scrolling Instagram on my phone, I saw a mention that shook all my emotions within 2 minutes: Beetlejuice had to say goodbye to the Winter Garden on Broadway on March 12th, 2020. The show was supposed to run its final performance until June 7th, except Covid-19 started showing up, and this motherf*cker changed all the plans.
Don't be sad, Don't be sad, Don't be sad, I would tell myself in the heat of the moment.
I soon recognized I was being very sensitive, but when we do love something, that is the kind of feeling we can experience, you know.
To be honest, I felt really heavy-hearted about the news.
The first Broadway show that I had attended with my precious people–my dearest friends–for my 29th birthday was officially done on Broadway. And just because I hate goodbyes, I believe it's time for me to tell you a story.
Yes, it was a show about death and no other dude than Alex Brightman could have done a better performance. We all remember the creepy Beetlejuice with moss and mold on his face and hands... yeah, no comment, and sorry, Michael Keaton. But for some reason, the one on Broadway was damn funny and hilarious as the highest level possible – and way much more good looking than the original, and sorry again, Michael Keaton.
The show was divided into two acts. Although the Musical was one hour and a half, you, as a spectator, would have lost track of time. Completely mind blown by the work of the actors, the originality of the songs, the atypical sceneries, the fun choreographies, the purple lights, (and the freaking sandworm for god sake!!!) the show seemed to last just a few minutes.
The famous characters of the original version were all present—Lydia and Charles Deetz, mourning the recent death of Emily, mother, and wife. Adam and Barbara Maitland were introduced shortly after the first minutes, and this by our favorite creepy old guy. However, they didn't stay alive very long, because, well, our same favorite creepy old guy kinda killed them.
Delia, a life coach, hired by Charles to help Lydia to get better was making the audience laugh hard with her Suck-Yes, and what is happeniiing to me? She was one of these key characters we loved to watch through the show. Well, not only was she Lydia's life coach but Charles' lover too. Oops! That second status was definitely not helping her to get Lydia's sympathy.
Long story short, you'd have experienced the back and forth between the real world and the attic, as fascinating and brilliant as hilarious; and you'd have gotten the chance to follow the story through the script perfectly melted with the records that were bringing more details regarding the experiences, the emotions, the feelings, and the struggles of the characters.
After an hour and a half, the last action would have come from the audience, in some other words, from you–you would have felt the strong desire to stand up, clap the whole show, and cry victory!
And for some of you who are not a crazy fan of Tim Burton's work in the first place, I'm sure you'd have ended up loving the show anyway.
On my end, when I decided to go to the show, I had barely remembered the story of the movie. The plot? Of course. But a lot of details had gone out of my memory since. So, I was ready to watch it without expecting anything in particular.
Bref, that Musical will always remain an incredible experience in my mind, and just for that, I had shared the news about the show shutting down to my formal partner because of the upsetting feeling I was experiencing.
Oh, comon', don't be so dramatic. You're making a big deal of it when there is none needed, he replied.
I won't write here what I thought about that remark, but you can take a guess that it didn't make me feel better.
Ironically, I was going to be forced to go through a second notice that would upset me, even more, a few weeks later: the separation with that partner.
When he mentioned my hyper-sensibility (again) during our last conversation, it hit home.
Well, first and foremost, je.t.em.merde (fake smile), I gently said.
(Pronounced [ʒə tɑ̃mɛʀde] in its beautiful and charming French way. It's a good one to remember; it might help you in some situations. Oh, and basically it means–fuck you (fake smile)–for the ones who were wondering.)
And that's right. I was no longer keeping what I had in the back of my head at bay, especially my thoughts about his lack of empathy, and his lack of respect towards my own emotions, because, um, why would I?
Elvis had left the building anyway.
Bottom line: Some people are more sensitive than others, and care deeply about things that could be considered as being absurd to others, and need to let go of their emotions and are not afraid of showing vulnerability, and are just different, which leads me to add–let's be proud of who we are and what we feel, deep, deep inside ourselves, and this–no.matter.what.
And yes, our feelings are valid!
At least, the show made me cry, but made me laugh too, I told myself the day I split up with him.
Until next time,
Mathilde Clemence –
Please enjoy The Prologue: Invisible too (and the rest of the album):