A Fully Realized Production Where Every Element Delivers
Palm Desert, CA
When a Broadway touring production arrives at the McCallum Theatre, it carries with it an expectation of polish and professionalism, but occasionally a production goes beyond that and delivers something that is fully integrated—where every component is working in alignment to create a complete experience. Beetlejuice – The Musical, based on the original film by Tim Burton, is one of those productions. Presented as part of a limited national tour engagement, typical of McCallum’s short-run schedule, the show arrives, delivers, and moves on, but not without leaving a lasting impression.
What becomes clear immediately is that this production understands how to establish its world before a single word is spoken. As the audience takes their seats, the stage is already telling a story. The design appears simple at first, but the longer you look, the more you realize that nothing is quite aligned. Angles are skewed, perspectives are distorted, and the entire environment feels slightly off balance, as though you have stepped into a space where the rules of reality no longer apply. It recalls those illusion-based environments where scale shifts depending on where you stand, where something small becomes large and large becomes small. It is subtle, but intentional, and it quietly prepares the audience for what is to come.
The opening sequence reinforces that intention. The use of dark costuming and controlled movement establishes tone immediately, signaling that this is not just comedy, but dark comedy. And it’s all about death. There is a clarity in that choice that removes any ambiguity, and then, with the arrival of Beetlejuice, sets the story directly and the production shifts gears. This is a story about death—but not in the way most people expect. In Beetlejuice, death isn’t an ending. It’s an entrance, an interruption, and, at times, a punchline.”
The energy expands, the pacing accelerates, and the audience is pulled directly into the rhythm of the show. In this touring production, Ryan Stajmiger (Bettlejuice) takes on the role with a performance that leans fully into its demands. His comedic delivery is fast, unapologetically corny at times, built on the structure of what many would call “dad jokes,” but executed with precision and confidence. It is the kind of humor that depends entirely on timing and commitment. Not every audience member will connect with it in the same way, and that is part of the design. Comedy is always filtered through personal experience, but for those willing to engage with it, the rhythm works, and it continues to work throughout the performance.
As the show unfolds, it becomes clear that this is a story told through music, not simply supported by it. The score by Eddie Perfect is not designed as a collection of standalone songs meant to follow the audience out of the theater, but rather as a narrative engine. Each number carries weight, advancing the story, defining character, and controlling the pacing of the production. At the center of that musical structure is Leanna Weaver as (Lydia Deetz), a role that requires both emotional depth and vocal control. Weaver delivers a performance that grounds the production, providing a necessary counterbalance to the chaos surrounding her. Her work anchors the story, allowing the more heightened elements of the show to exist without losing their connection to something real.
Surrounding her is a cast that operates with a level of consistency that is essential in a production of this scale. Kaitlin Feely and David Wilson bring warmth and sincerity to their roles, providing a human center within an otherwise exaggerated world. Jeff Brooks and Bailey Frankenberg contribute sharply defined character work that supports both the tone and structure of the piece. What stands out is not just the strength of the leads, but the reliability of the entire ensemble. This is not a production that depends on a single standout performance. It functions as a system, and that system requires everyone to deliver at a high level.
That consistency makes it possible for smaller moments to have a disproportionate impact. One of the most memorable scenes comes from Mia Caslowitz as the Girl Scout. It is a brief appearance, one that seems predictable at first, but the performance quickly shifts expectations. The character is clearly defined within seconds, and the musical number is delivered with confidence and precision. It lands in a way that lingers, not because it is larger than the rest of the show, but because it is executed so cleanly within its moment. It becomes one of those instances where the audience recognizes that even the smallest role has been fully realized.
On a personal note, we met both Leanna and Ryan, Kaitlin and David, and some of the other performers, and their energy and excitement to be part of this production is very apparent. They simply enjoy performing at a level that is both demanding, but exceptionally enjoyable. We felt that they are right where they belong, and it shows in their performances.
Visually, the production never allows the audience to settle. The set is in constant motion, transforming, shifting, and reconfiguring in ways that feel both complex and seamless. Lighting, projection, and scenic design are not operating independently, but as a unified cohesive art experience engine. The result is a kind of controlled visual intensity, where there is always something happening, but never without purpose. Every change pushes the story forward, reinforcing the idea that nothing on stage exists simply for decoration. This becomes unmistakable in one of the production’s most telling moments, when the curtain rises and the audience responds with applause for the set itself. That reaction is not common, and it speaks directly to the impact of the visual design, particularly for those who experience storytelling through imagery. Some audience members will leave remembering songs, while others, especially me, will leave remembering images. This production gives you both, but its visual language is what lingers.
One of the most striking and memorable aspects of this production is its use of puppetry and oversized theatrical imagery, and it is here where the show fully reveals what makes live theater different from anything else. The giant Sandworm does not simply appear—it emerges, coils, and commands attention in a way that immediately shifts the scale of the stage. The dancing skeletons move with a rhythm that is both playful and unsettling, existing somewhere between humor and unease. The enormous hand reaches into the space with a physical presence that feels almost intrusive, and the exaggerated face that materializes during one of the show’s most visually aggressive musical sequences expands the stage beyond what seems physically possible. These are not background effects. They are active participants in the storytelling.
What makes these moments exceptional is not just their size or their visual impact, but the way they are executed. They are the result of discipline, interpretation, collaboration, and precise timing. Every movement is intentional. Every reveal is earned. The audience does not simply watch these moments—they experience them. They feel them. And that is the point. This is what theater does when it is working at a high level. It demands all of your senses at once. It happens right in front of you, in real time, with no separation between the audience and the event. There is no screen, no distance, no second take. You are there, and it is happening.
There is also something else at work here that is essential to the experience: surprise. You never fully know what the production design team is going to reveal next. Just when you think you understand the limits of the stage, something new appears, something larger, stranger, more exaggerated, and more inventive than what came before. That sense of unpredictability keeps the audience engaged, not just intellectually, but physically and emotionally. It creates a kind of anticipation that builds throughout the performance.
These elements do more than create spectacle. They expand the internal logic of the story. They make the world feel unstable, exaggerated, humorous, and slightly dangerous all at once. They translate the surreal imagery of the original story into something that can only exist in live performance—something physical, immediate, and shared. And in doing so, they remind you why theater matters. Not because it imitates reality, but because it can create something entirely its own through craft, imagination, and execution.
From beginning to end, the show operates at full speed. There is no point at which it feels as though it has settled or paused. The pacing is deliberate, the energy sustained, and the audience responds accordingly. Laughter, applause, and engagement are present throughout, and that response is earned. It is also worth acknowledging what that requires. Drama is difficult and demanding, but comedy, particularly comedy that depends on timing, is unforgiving. Every beat must land, every pause must be intentional, and every performer must remain fully present. To achieve that level of precision night after night, in front of audiences that may or may not meet you halfway, is a mark of professionalism. On this night, the audience was with them, and the performers met that energy with consistency and control.
In the end, what defines this production is not any single element, but the way in which all of its elements come together. Direction, performance, scenic design, lighting, projection, costumes, choreography, puppetry, sound, and orchestration all operate in alignment, each fulfilling its role without competing for attention. That level of integration is unforgettable. A visually intense experience, built through scale, movement, color, and timing, has the ability to imprint itself in your mind. Long after the performance ends, you can recall it with clarity. In the end this is a story, all its own, a derivative from the original movie, that is all its own. Original, engaging and enjoyable.
Beetlejuice – The Musical is more than an evening of entertainment. It is a demonstration of what can happen when a production commits fully to its purpose and executes at a high level across every discipline. During its limited run at the McCallum Theatre, it offers audiences the opportunity to step away from the constant pull of daily life and experience something immediate, live, and fully realized. It is a reminder that for a brief moment, it is still possible to sit, watch, and be carried somewhere else. If the opportunity presents itself, it is worth taking.
Beetlejuice – The Musical is playing at the McCallum Theatre, 73000 Fred Waring Drive, Palm Desert, California 92260, as a limited engagement from March 24 through March 29, 2026. Tickets are available through the McCallum Theatre box office, by phone at (760) 340-2787, and through the official McCallum Theatre website.