If it were only as easy as chanting a beloved character’s name in triplicate to summon them to your side or banish them, life would be a lot more exciting, even if you were then stuck dealing with an undead Rumpelstiltskin.

Such is the quandary at the center of “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” and that’s as many times in a row I’m comfortable saying that moniker.

Ever since the paranormal encounters of her teenage years, Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) has been making a living as a celebrity medium, a gig that’s starting to wear on her sanity as she faces ghosts regularly throughout her life.

But, the latest departed spirit she has to contend with hits a little closer to home. When she learns of the death of her father, she is bound for the small town of Winter River with her producer boyfriend (Justin Theroux) and her estranged daughter (Jenna Ortega) in tow at the behest of Lydia’s stepmother Delia (Catherine O’Hara).

The funeral is hard enough for the dysfunctional family, but for Lydia, memories of her youth and a certain specter keep looming over her.

And, as Halloween night approaches, she may not be able to avoid crossing paths with the entity known as Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton).

Back in the role that made him a household name, Keaton doesn’t miss a step as the sleazy bio-exorcist we love to abhor. Since his last adventure, the Ghost with the Most has been lying in wait, trying to get into the head of the woman he sees as the one who got away.

It probably won’t surprise you that the dude who famously won’t take no for an answer is running a call center in the afterlife, all while staying one step ahead of the rules that keep him from inflicting his noxious personality and trickery on the living.

The same movie that was the breakout for Keaton served as the launching pad for Ryder as the quintessential sarcastic goth girl. The morose demeanor she wielded back in the 80s is still there, though now it’s coupled with a few decades of rough life experiences, and Lydia in middle age is notably more frazzled, whether it’s due to being overmedicated or years of being mentally stalked by a demon who’s obsessed with her.

With a slew of horror appearances — ranging from “X” to the “Scream” revival to “Wednesday” on Netflix — Ortega is the heir-apparent to women like Ryder, Christina Ricci and the like, in this iteration a little less intense as Lydia’s sullen kid Astrid, a firm nonbeliever in everything in which her mom is involved. Yet, much like Lydia, she just seems to happen upon some spiritual happenings without even trying.

O’Hara makes a welcome return as avant-garde artist and sharp-tongued step-parent Delia, whose exasperating yet lovable nature is somehow more endearing these days. Of course, she’s competing with Theroux for the most unbearable human, and someone who’s still rocking a Bluetooth headset will always be up high on that list.

The soul of the movie that made us all aware of the mind of Tim Burton was in its total randomness at the tail end of the button-down Reagan years, celebrating weirdness and mocking pretension in one fell swoop. Not everything about the original movie made sense, and that was part of its charm.

As for the sequel — I guess the project “Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian” never escaped development hell — Burton manages to tap back into that eclectic sense of grotesquerie that has defined his career, and the result is one of his most refreshingly unpolished films.

The narrative here is a typical follow-up story — characters go back to where it all started, allow themselves to make the same kinds of mistakes, maybe they learn a lesson they already learned — but we have the benefit of the title antihero being a guy who simply does not grow as a person. Keaton can easily do the same shtick because nobody wants Beetlejuice to evolve; the fact that he’s somehow more hilariously awful is strangely comforting.

Likewise, the expanded look at the afterlife shows not much changes once you’re dead — you still have to navigate that dreary bureaucratic waiting room, claustrophobic corridors and the poor souls who will spend the rest of eternity sporting a shark bite or with their airway clogged with food after an ill-advised hot dog-eating contest.

Visual effects, makeup and animated sequences that look more tangible than most CGI fare these days also don’t hurt. That scale model in the attic sure brings back memories…

However, what detracts from the stronger parts of this movie are too many moving pieces.

The latest developments in the Deetz family and the creep that’s never stopped haunting them? Great.

A former flame of BJ who looks like a stapled version of Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas” and a deceased TV cop who still wants to be everyone’s favorite detective? Those would both be great, if not for the fact they’re both largely irrelevant to the main plot, wasting good performances from Monica Bellucci and Willem Dafoe.

There are plenty of irreverent gags that work wonderfully— like a nauseating moment where the eponymous ghoul literally spills his guts and forces the same in his conversation partner — but just as many that fall flat.

Ah, yes, the transport system of Limbo is called the Soul Train. Very amusing. Did you have any more to that, Tim?

No? Just a needless, poorly choreographed dance scene? Got it.

At least the lip-sync scene works.

You’re either going to love “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” or be entirely indifferent to it. The highlights are enough to elicit laughs, but just like the title, it doesn’t feel quite complete to truly unleash the magic.

To the studio’s credit, the timing of its release is perfect given the original movie came out in spring. This is exactly the film to kick off spooky season nice and early and give audiences a nice appetizer before watching more intense and satisfying entries in the horror comedy genre.

So gentlemen, dust off those burgundy tuxedoes and ladies, spruce up your scarlet wedding dresses, because it’s never too soon, know what I mean?