The fall movie season is in full swing with “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,” in theaters now after opening the swanky, sentimental Venice Film Festival. The sequel feels like it’s been usurped by Tim Burton’s 1988 original, and that’s exactly how it should feel. Not everything worked 36 years ago. And there are struggles this time around, too. But what does work, works like a charm.

What a treat to welcome back Michael Keaton in his funniest role yet as Betelgeuse (pronounced Beetlejuice), the motor-crazed, rotting-corpse, deceptive demon who makes a hilarious art of being totally disgusting. The first film won an Oscar for makeup, but none for Keaton, which goes to show the Academy’s lack of respect for comedic acting. Keaton’s Beetlejuice is an all-timer.

Winona Ryder is also back in top form as Lydia Deetz, the former goth teen who now hosts a reality show about haunted houses and how to un-haunt them. Lydia has her own daughter, Astrid, played beautifully by Jenna Ortega, star of Burton’s TV hit, “Wednesday.” Astrid thinks her mother is crazy, but we don’t doubt their love for a second.

The great Catherine O’Hara is also back as Delia, Lydia’s evil stepmother. But the crux of the plot, created by Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, is how Lydia deals with Beetlejuice, who is still angry that the teenage Lydia left him at the altar three decades ago. It seems that our favorite devil will have to marry a human in order to truly torture other people on Earth.

Get it? Never mind. The fun is in the interactions that begin when the Deetz family gathers in their own haunted house in Winter River, Connecticut, to mourn a death in the family. No spoilers, except that this sequel packs more emotion than the original ever could have imagined.

There are also laughs. Big jokes with surprising visual gags that dazzle and delight. The plot begins when Beetlejuice is summoned from the afterlife by someone repeating his name three times.

Suddenly he’s there, the bio-exorcist from the halls of hell, dealing with his vengeful ex-wife Delores (a terrific Monica Bellucci) as she staples her body parts back together with a staple gun while the Bee Gees sing “Tragedy.” Burton’s back, baby!

Just wait until you see their romance condensed into a badly dubbed black-and-white Italian film. The visual gags are nonstop. And there’s original composer Danny Elfman delivering a score you can bounce to. And beware of a ghost detective who was once a B-movie hambone actor. It’s a role Willem Dafoe can really let loose in. All the technical credits are top-notch, especially Haris Zambarloukos’s camera wizardry, Colleen Atwood’s fantastically eccentric costumes, and the drop-in songs that reach peak hilarity with the cast lip-synching to Richard Harris’s mutilation of “MacArthur Park.”

Kudos also to the practical effects that surpass all the usual digital pyrotechnics. Burton makes everything look handmade and that is irresistible.

Among my complaints (you knew this was coming) I should mention that the film is overstuffed with subplots. Lydia has a sleazy, ponytailed boyfriend played by Justin Theroux, and Astrid is dating a fellow Dostoevsky fan (Arthur Conti). The most unforgivable sin is reducing Keaton to a mere 17 minutes on screen, but damn, he makes every minute count.

Ultimately, it all comes down to Beetlejuice waving his freak flag. And he does. As the man says, “the Juice is loose.” Act accordingly.