set design

The Beetlejuice House, in All Its Postmodern Glory, Is Beloved by These Designers

Delia Deetz and Otho are vilified for giving the house in Tim Burton’s 1988 film a makeover—but what they created just may have helped inspire a generation
Image may contain Jeffrey Jones Glenn Shadix Catherine O'Hara Face Head Person Photography Portrait Adult and Cup
Jeffrey Jones as Charles Deetz, Glen Shadix as Otho the interior designer, and Catherine O’Hara as Delia Deetz on the deconstructed, postmodern porch in the 1988 film Beetlejuice.Photo: Cinematic / Alamy Stock Photo

Somehow I made it to my 30s without seeing the film Beetlejuice. As a child growing up in the ’90s, I certainly remember being aware of the titular character played by Michael Keaton, with his black-and-white striped suit, but it wasn’t until this year, ahead of the release of the sequel (Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice), that I actually sat down to get acquainted with Tim Burton’s 1988 film where wholesome Connecticut couple Adam and Barbara Maitland (played by Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis) die in a car crash, come back as ghosts, and witness—to their horror—the Deetz family move in and redecorate their beloved Carpenter Gothic–inspired house on a hill.

Delia Deetz (Catherine O’Hara) and her interior designer Otho (Glenn Shadix) are presented as the villains of this story—selfish, out of touch, and on a mission to change everything about the Maitlands’ idyllic, country-chic home that resembles an ’80s Laura Ashley catalogue. Watching the renovation, however, I found myself charmed by many of Delia and Otho’s choices. The Maitlands’ house is cozy and comfortable, sure, but the Deetz’s home is invigorating and exciting. The new exterior of the Beetlejuice house is, in my opinion, striking, and it honors the structure’s roots while adding a bit of artistic flair.

I’m not the only one who feels this way about Delia and Otho’s postmodern wonderland, and I wanted to hear more from design-minded individuals who could help me dig a bit deeper into the appeal of the quirky redesign. Interior and furniture designer Alex P. White, whose own work often explores bold geometric shapes with a bit of romanticism and whimsy, says that seeing the film as a teenager “opened up a whole new way of thinking about what your environment could look like.” At that time, he wasn’t aware of all of the principles of postmodernism, but he knew that the Beetlejuice house represented a cultural phenomenon he was drawn to. “I was super into new-wave music and a lot of those ideas and music videos; that’s what the house reminded me of. So I was like, ‘Oh yeah, this is what I am about. This is my scene.’”

“As a 14-year-old seeing the film, I was like, ‘F-ing cool, this is it. I want my room to be like a music video with the dramatic lighting,” says designer Alex P. White.

Photo: ©Warner Bros/Courtesy Everett Collection

Postmodern philosophy is all about individual expression, and White explains that, technically speaking, it is the opposite of “good taste.” The campy bricolage of the Deetz’s home may be less universally appealing than the sweet florals favored by the Maitlands, but Otho and Delia weren’t designing for everyone. “The point of view was more about questioning, as opposed to trying to achieve something that is considered by most as acceptable,” White says. “I think it was a reaction to what’s acceptable and a way to create new forms and new ideas. The character wanted to live and breathe her art. Making an environment that is completely reflective of your own point of view and personality is kind of the opposite of good taste. Good taste is about what is normal, perceived, something that’s all agreed upon.”

This sentiment is communicated with pieces evoking the designers of the time period, who were, in the real world, causing that same disruption. White recalls the chairs in the dining room, where the film’s famous “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)” scene takes place. Stretched animal skin is laced onto their metal frames, not unlike the Barbare chair designed in 1981 by Parisian design duo Elizabeth Garouste and Mattia Bonetti. Their work, which often utilized historical references, was avant-garde and whimsical, and it would have certainly been on Delia and Otho’s radar. A biography of the designers on David Gill gallery’s website quotes them as saying, “Our hope is to give people the feeling of freedom in the choice of forms. Good taste really bothers us a lot. What we care about is implanting doubt. We don’t have any rules.”

The dining room chairs recall the Barbare chairs by Elizabeth Garouste and Mattia Bonetti.

Photo: ©Warner Bros/Courtesy Everett Collection

Tara McCauley, whose room at the 2022 Brooklyn Heights Designer Showhouse drew comparisons to Beetlejuice and who calls the movie a family favorite, notes that the porphyry-like speckled material of the dining room table and other surfaces in the house evokes the work of the Memphis Milano movement. Led by Ettore Sottsass, this group of designers converged in the early ’80s to create furniture pieces and an aesthetic that was geometric, colorful, and boundary-pushing. “People associate the black-and-white stripes with Beetlejuice, because of his suit, but the interior actually did have color in it. There were pops of bright colors,” McCauley says. “The use of bold colors is also an affront to the Maitlands.”

Throughout the home is a speckled material that resembles granite.

Photo: ©Warner Bros/Courtesy Everett Collection

Leah Ring, the interior and furniture designer behind Another Human and a fan of the film, cites all the most colorful parts of the house as her favorite: The squiggly red bar that anchors the Deetz’s living room; the moody mauve walls, green floor, and yellow dresser in the bedroom of Lydia Deetz, Delia’s gothic teenage stepdaughter played by Winona Ryder; and the cobalt blue kitchen. “I was always a creative kid, but I didn’t find interior design until my 20s. But I definitely remember watching Beetlejuice and everyone else was like, Oh, it’s so weird. I was like, It’s great. I love it,” Ring says. “I just like spaces that don’t take themselves too seriously, that have a bit of a wink to them, that are pushing form and materiality. The big pieces in the house, like the fireplace, the bar, and the deck outside, they’re all sculptural. It’s art and it’s design, but also they’re all having fun.”

It‘s impossible to know exactly how much their love of Beetlejuice influenced the career paths of these designers, but there is no denying that the film embodies the design world in a way that not many other films do. “Some of my best friends, who are also designers, we’ve only become friends as adults, but it’s a very shared common interest that we all loved Beetlejuice growing up. It’s kind of like a seminal aesthetic moment for me and some of my designer friends,” McCauley says.

And for one Portland-based couple, the house did indeed provide them with quite literal design inspiration. “When I first saw Beetlejuice, the house resonated with me,” Raymond Sepulveda, a UX designer, tells AD. “That mixture of eccentricity and just general fun and joy were super appealing.” His graphic designer husband, Jonathan Valiente, agrees: “It’s dark and gloomy, but it’s also fun in some ways, and whimsical.”

Raymond Sepulveda and Jonathan Valiente’s Portland, Oregon, home, which was inspired by the Deetz’s home in Beetlejuice

Photo: Raymond Sepulveda

When they were renovating their Portland home, they wanted to add privacy to a balcony, and the deconstructed porch from Beetlejuice became their inspiration. Structurally, it proved a bit more difficult to bring to life than they anticipated, but they were able to make it happen with help from their contractor, Hammer & Hand, and design studio, Thesis Studio. “We gave them DVD copies of the movie and asked them to watch it beforehand so that they got a full feel for what we were describing and wanting,” Sepulveda says.

Sepulveda and Valiente’s porch

Photo: Raymond Sepulveda

While the interior of their home does not necessarily pull direct references from Beetlejuice, there are winks to postmodernism and the macabre. The main thing Sepulveda and Valiente took from the film is the importance of decorating for yourself. “The characters were daring enough to be true to what they wanted. They didn’t really care what other folks said,” Sepulveda says. “The same holds true to us with our house. By and large, I’d say generally all of the passersby and kids always are saying how much they love that weird house and stuff like that. We’ve had a couple folks who are like, ‘Oh my God, that house is black,’ or a couple of other negative comments. But the house feels true to us.”