Credit where it’s due, Beetlejuice should absolutely not work on stage, let alone as a musical. And whilst in many moments it barely does, its extraordinary level of self-awareness, the knowing nudges and winks to the audience, just about holds the thing together.

I think, and this is bold, that the musical is actually better suited to British theatregoers. It’s dry, pantomimey (not always to its benefit) and wry in much the same way that we are renowned for our sarcasm and self-deprecating humour. Had the show originated in the UK, I genuinely believe its trajectory may have leaned more towards success.

Theatre is subjective, comedy perhaps even more so, so comedic theatre barely stands a chance. I laughed throughout, but increasingly found myself left behind as audience members, who I’m not convinced weren’t performing harder than the actors on stage, were practically wetting themselves. The attempts to localise the humour don’t help. The only recent and inherently British references seem to be about Paddington the Musical, and even this is taken too far.

Whereas something like The Producers finger blasts you with humour before making you climax at something so abhorrent that you question your entire morality and every decision that brought you there, Beetlejuice never quite commits either way.

And for heaven’s sake, if you’re not going to give a brand-new audience the full scale and spectacle of the damn show, reduce the timings of your transitions.

So much of Beetlejuice, resulting in my wanting to throw a toddler from the Grand Circle because I was reaching Hades levels of anger, is spent watching stupid projections on a curtain, only for half of it to rise and reveal a third of a set. Characters sprint downstage midway through the endings of songs just to escape it, while scenery that can’t fly is pushed on anyway, making the whole device hilariously redundant. If we’re going to watch the scenery being moved into position regardless, do we really need to spend quite so long staring at a projection designed to pretend it isn’t happening?

Even the attic took several visits before the penny dropped that they weren’t, for some bizarre reason, in the garden shed. It looks ready to burst into life with Wizard Mickey Mouse performing grand-scale illusions alongside Donald Duck and Co., rather than being atop the house we’re supposed to be in. Somehow, it manages to look cramped on the Prince Edward stage.

This is where the show’s pantomime sensibilities become a problem. Pantomime might be ridiculous, but it is deadly serious business in British theatre. For many venues, it’s the most lucrative time of the year. British audiences know that looking ridiculous doesn’t mean looking cheap, and Beetlejuice too often does.

The cast do their best with what they’ve been given. Vocally, they’re faultless, but the score is largely forgettable and the characters aren’t strong enough to carry this heightened version of the story. I deeply respect the decision not to replicate the characterisations from the film, because that could have been an absolute disaster, but it leaves the production with less recognition and nostalgia to fall back on.

The exception is Hannah Nordberg as Lydia Deetz. Astonishing, believable and the only character afforded any real dimension, she is the standout performance of the evening.

But my reservations extend beyond Beetlejuice.

Theatre is expensive on both sides of the proscenium and, increasingly, commercial theatre seems unwilling to take a risk. Recognisable intellectual property offers an obvious solution. Why gamble on persuading an audience to see something they’ve never heard of when you can sell them something they already know they like?

We’re seeing touring productions in the West End, smaller productions in larger touring houses, and smaller productions still squeezed into older venues that can barely accommodate them. The economics might make sense, but artistically we’re beginning to see the consequences.

The industry is strangling itself under the illusion that it’s saving itself.

There is an enormous market of occasional theatregoers for whom a West End show is an event rather than a habit, and producers would be mad to ignore them. But increasingly relying on that audience, and the recognisable properties most easily sold to them, risks turning theatre into a live extension of things people already know.

And perhaps it’s working. Beetlejuice received a standing ovation. The audience around me were having the time of their lives.

Perhaps I and other regular theatregoers are the anomalies. Perhaps those of us who see theatre regularly have simply become harder to impress and possess expectations that are too high…

I’m joking.

Theatre is on the decline and it’s about time someone said so.