I attended Beetlejuice: The Musical a month ago at the Palace Theatre on Broadway. Even before seeing the Broadway production, I had already booked a ticket for the Korean licensed production, knowing it would be a rare opportunity to compare the two while my memory was still fresh.

On Broadway, Justin Collette makes Beetlejuice feel less like a role than a force of nature. It genuinely felt as if he were winging the entire show. His improvisations, comic timing, tantrums, and manic energy all made sense within the character, and his gravelly voice added an unmistakable sense of authenticity. I was fortunate to catch the limited Broadway run after the U.S. national tour, and both the staging and performance were impeccable.

When I later sat down in Korea — in a seating area similar to where I had sat at the Palace Theatre — the curtained stage looked almost identical to Broadway’s. The only noticeable difference, if I am being picky, was that the green lighting washing the auditorium walls felt more diffused, whereas Broadway used sharper, more defined beams. Other than that, visually, everything appeared remarkably the same.

LG Signature Hall in LG Arts Center Seoul, designed by renowned Japanese architect Tadao Ando, is known for its excellent acoustics. Pre-show announcements in Korea are usually delivered first in Korean and then in English, with the English often sounding mechanical and flat. At this venue, however, the English announcement was read by a man with a British accent — long, detailed, and expressive. I genuinely enjoyed the delivery, and when he finished with “Enjoy the show,” I found myself applauding.

With thunderous sounds in complete darkness, the show began. In structure and staging, it was exactly the same as the Broadway production — except, of course, for the language. When Beetlejuice appeared, the audience erupted in loud cheers and applause. Kim Junsu, one of Korea’s most acclaimed musical stars with immense ticket power and a global fanbase, played Beetlejuice. From that moment, it was clear that this would be a very different experience from a typical Korean musical performance.

The audience reacted to nearly every movement and every fourth-wall-breaking gesture. Importantly, the fans also respected the other performers and the orchestra, which kept the atmosphere enthusiastic but not disruptive.

Many elements of the script were heavily localized. At one point, Beetlejuice listed Korean comfort foods — including tteokbokki, ramen, dumplings, and more — while lamenting what he eats when he is sad. When he pulled out the “wrong” name card, it read: “Palm Tree Island CEO Kim Junsu.” He initially asked the audience to say his name three times, then corrected them: not all at once, but once per performance — ideally by attending three of his shows. Logically, this joke does not quite work, but by that point, he had already broken the fourth wall so thoroughly that he existed as half character and half actor.

As Act I progressed, I noticed that many characters were portrayed differently compared to the Broadway production I saw in 2025. Junsu Kim’s Beetlejuice was physically deft, vocally strong, and remarkably relaxed on stage. As a trained dancer, he brought a high level of flexibility and precision to the role. I found myself especially anticipating the dance scenes, and when he manipulated the Maitlands or danced with the clones, his physical control was striking. His scratchy, gravelly vocal color also suited Beetlejuice well.

Despite the frequent audience interaction and localized dialogue, the show felt fully scripted to the smallest detail. Even so, Beetlejuice made it all feel spontaneous — which is no small achievement.

By contrast, when I saw Justin Collette at the Palace Theatre during the 2025 Broadway run, I distinctly remember a moment in Act II when he improvised a joke directed at audience members seated next to an empty seat, commenting on the expense of seeing only Act I after leaving early. His comic timing — including pauses for laughter and moments of silence that allowed the audience to fully process the joke — made Beetlejuice feel completely alive. The only moment when I was reminded that he was “an actor” was during the Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS announcement delivered by Charles Deetz.

Beetlejuice’s infatuation with Adam — presented more openly and with a distinctly queer undertone in the Broadway production — was noticeably downplayed in the Korean version.

Lydia, in the Korean production, felt noticeably more mature. She was an excellent singer and dancer and never missed an acting cue, but she appeared more like a young woman than a fifteen-year-old girl. That said, musical theatre frequently casts highly acrobatic 35-year-old performers to portray fifteen-year-old characters, so the casting choice felt entirely reasonable, especially given the vocal and ensemble demands of the role.

As for the Maitlands, Adam and Barbara were portrayed as somewhere between nerdy and ordinary. In the Broadway production I saw, Adam leaned more overtly nerdy while Barbara appeared more sensible. In Korea, both actors sang and acted very well, though the balance between the two characters felt slightly adjusted.

Charles Deetz was played by a strong singer, and Delia was also vocally solid. Charles’s characterization felt consistent across both productions, but Delia was noticeably less vacant in the Korean version. Delia was hired as a “life-couch” for Lydia, and felt grounded as a real, present figure rather than a caricature. The two main indications of her supposed “emptiness” were when she was referred to as small-brained — which she interpreted as having a small skull, a compliment in Korea — and when Beetlejuice deliberately forgot her name, drifting his attention elsewhere without waiting for her response.

With so many nuanced changes in characterization, I was initially confused. However, as long as these choices did not distort the core themes of the show, I felt that the actors were justified in adapting the roles to feel natural to them. By Act II, the characterizations settled, and the confusion disappeared.

In the Korean production, Delia also played Miss Argentina. Juno — Beetlejuice’s mother — expressed a twisted but unmistakable form of love toward Beetlejuice, something I did not perceive as clearly in the Broadway version, where she felt more like a perpetually grumpy authority figure. In Korea, Beetlejuice seemed to recognize his mother’s love before descending underground. Juno attempted to take Lydia, and Beetlejuice ultimately summoned the sandworm to devour his mother. Placing these moments back-to-back felt melodramatic and somewhat contradictory.

One major staging difference between the 2025 Broadway production and the Korean licensed version was the Maitlands’ cause of death. In Korea, they fell through loose floorboards into a large trapdoor that also served as the casket’s descent. In the Broadway production I saw, they were electrocuted — a change that originated in the tour and was later adopted on Broadway.

All puppetry remained identical to the Broadway production. The Korean translations of both lyrics and dialogue were generally strong. “Day-O,” however, was translated quite literally, and as with previous experiences, I needed time to adjust to hearing new lyrics for such a globally familiar song.

If possible, I would like to attend the show again with a different actor playing Beetlejuice. One of the defining features of Korean musical theatre is how differently actors can shape the same role, sometimes making the experience feel like an entirely new production. With Junsu Kim, Jeong Seonghwa, and Won Young Jung rotating in the role, each promises a distinct interpretation.

Ultimately, I thoroughly enjoyed the show, thanks to its strong vocals, rich harmonies, and excellent acoustics.