There is a particular electricity in a theatre when a long-awaited transfer finally arrives, and Beetlejuice The Musical wastes no time in tapping into it. The atmosphere at the Prince Edward Theatre feels closer to a fan convention than a standard West End opening. Many in the audience are dressed in striped blazers or goth-tinged homage, and the buzz is unmistakable. This is a show that knows its audience, and more importantly, knows exactly what it is.
The story follows Lydia Deetz, a sharp-witted but grieving teenager obsessed with death, who moves into a new home with her father and his relentlessly upbeat fiancée, Delia. Unbeknownst to them, the house is already occupied by the recently deceased Maitlands, a gentle couple struggling to haunt the living. Enter Beetlejuice, a chaotic demon who sees Lydia’s loneliness as his ticket back to the world of the living. As Lydia and the ghosts form an unlikely bond, Beetlejuice’s increasingly reckless schemes spiral out of control, forcing Lydia to confront her grief and decide what it really means to be alive.
From its carnival-tinged opening image through to the knowingly abrasive first number, “The Whole ‘Being Dead’ Thing”, the production leans hard into its anarchic tone. David Fynn’s Beetlejuice makes an immediate and confident impact. Rather than imitate Alex Brightman (the Broadway original), he opts for something distinctly British, laced with music-hall mischief and a barrage of locally tuned jokes. His performance thrives on audience interaction, often locking eyes with individuals and riding the wave of anticipation that sometimes sees laughs arrive before punchlines.
It’s worth noting that, while Fynn covers most performances, there is also an alternate Beetlejuice for certain dates. Having seen Tom Xander’s previous work, I would be particularly interested in seeing his interpretation of the character.
The show wisely places emotional weight elsewhere. Hannah Nordberg’s Lydia is less overtly sardonic than some interpretations, but far more grounded. Her early number “Dead Mom” lands with surprising force, cutting cleanly through the surrounding chaos and briefly stilling a raucous auditorium. Nordberg charts Lydia’s grief with sincerity, culminating in a beautifully controlled “Home” in Act Two that provides the production’s emotional anchor.
If the performances largely soar, the same cannot always be said for the staging. Having previously seen the production on Broadway and been blown away by the set, the scenic design here feels scaled down. There is a sense of compression, with certain elements appearing flatter, almost like stylised cut-outs rather than fully realised environments. Frequent scene changes behind a curtain interrupt the flow and feel like a missed opportunity in a theatre capable of greater fluidity. That said, there remain flashes of theatrical ingenuity. The Maitlands’ house transformation still impresses, and the interplay of projections, forced perspective and practical effects sustains the show’s haunted funfair aesthetic.
The supporting cast add texture and comic precision. David Hunter and Chelsea Halfpenny make for an appealingly awkward Adam and Barbara, their relationship both sweet and sharply observed. Hunter in particular finds unexpected comic mileage in his dynamic with Beetlejuice. Aimie Atkinson’s Delia emerges as a standout, delivering every line with exquisite timing, as if each thought has just occurred to her a beat too late. It is a masterclass in comic characterisation and earns some of the night’s biggest laughs.
Musically, the production is at its strongest when it embraces controlled chaos. “Say My Name” is the first true showstopper, blending dynamic staging with striking lighting that avoids tipping into garishness. Later, “That Beautiful Sound” unleashes the ensemble, whose choreography consistently impresses.
Beetlejuice has a surprisingly sincere core. Beneath the rapid-fire jokes and gleeful vulgarity sits a clear narrative about grief, loss and learning to live fully. At times, the script undermines itself with an overabundance of gags, but when it allows quieter moments to breathe, it reveals a smarter, more cohesive structure than its reputation might suggest.
By the time the euphoric finale arrives, (a welcome reprise of ‘Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)’) the audience is firmly on its feet, whether driven by genuine enthusiasm or opening-night adrenaline. Either way, the response feels justified. This is not a subtle show, nor is it particularly elegant, it is loud, chaotic and unmistakably alive, and a rare large-scale musical comedy that feels as though anything could happen from one moment to the next.
In embracing its chaos while grounding its heart, Beetlejuice The Musical proves itself more than a cult import. It is, quite simply, dead good.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
