“I have worldwide access!”

Does that sound like a funny statement? Of course not. What in the history of humanity and airport queues could be funny about Global Entry?

But put it in the mouth of comedy goddess Catherine O’Hara and set it in the uniquely imaginative world of Tim Burton and the wacky afterlife waiting room from Beetlejuice, and it might be the only blessed time in your life that you laugh out loud at worldwide entry.

That probably won’t be the only thing you’ll laugh out loud at. Burton is back – and more importantly, he’s BACK – with Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, 36 years after the original. And for once, the question of “why a sequel?” is moot.

Not because we know the answer. (Do we?) But who cares? It’s funny. It might even make you feel better about death, even though it’s not “Death, Death.” And Michael Keaton looks somewhat the same as he did in 1988 (to be fair, his character was already dead).

Director Burton returns to his story of Keaton’s ghostly, devilish “bio-exorcist” and brings back much of the team from the original, including O’Hara and Keaton as well as the still charming Winona Ryder as Lydia, the goth girl (and also Bob, the shrunken-head guy).

And we have Justin Theroux, Monica Bellucci, Willem Dafoe and, for the younger generation, Jenna Ortega, who serves as an appealing anchor as a relatively normal character and whose story drives the plot forward.

Speaking of the plot, if you haven’t seen the original, that’s no problem. Everything is explained (as well as it should) in good time. We begin in Winter River, Connecticut, still home to Lydia Deetz (Ryder), who came here as a teenager with her crazy stepmother Delia and father Charles, only to learn that her new house is haunted by the recently deceased Adam and Barbara (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis, who sadly never returned).

Lydia looks much the same – dressed all in black, with spiky bangs and pale skin – but is now a widowed mother, a psychic mediator and host of the cheesy reality show “Ghost House,” in which she sees ghosts and asks, “Can the living and the dead coexist?”

But one day she sees something in the audience that frightens her: visions of Beetlejuice, who caused havoc in her teenage years and who, when we last saw him, was languishing in the waiting room of the afterlife (apparently HE didn’t have worldwide access).

Right next to the set, her manager and boyfriend Rory (Theroux), who has a small ponytail that is almost as greasy as he is, is waiting to comfort Lydia after this horrific vision.

Then Lydia receives a disturbing message from Delia (O’Hara), an artist of questionable talent and undeniable ego who is organizing a gallery show in which she herself is the canvas. There, Delia tells Lydia that she has lost Charles. “Is he divorcing you?” gasps Lydia. “What a horrible thought!” replies Delia. “No, he’s dead.” (Such lines are like catnip for O’Hara, a genius of comedic timing).

Lydia calls her daughter Astrid (Ortega) at boarding school. Astrid lists Lydia in her contacts as the “alleged mother,” which tells you a lot about their strained relationship.

But let’s pause this report on the living, because we need to update you on the dead, too. Where Beetlejuice is stuck, where the dead live — but not the “dead dead” — Delores, Beetlejuice’s ex-wife, has escaped from the boxes (emphasis on the plural) that held her body. Watching the glamorous Bellucci literally staple herself together is just one of the wonderful creative moments Burton and crew give us here. Unfortunately, Delores doesn’t have much else to do, but this is pretty spectacular.

We’re getting into spoiler territory, so let’s just say that things get really complicated when Astrid goes home to Winter River for her father’s funeral. There she sees Mom accepting a marriage proposal from the slick Rory. As Astrid runs off, she meets a cute young guy reading Dostoyevsky.

A relationship begins that will lead to unexpected chaos. Let’s just say Lydia has to call – oh horror! – Beetlejuice, who, as is his wont, will demand a terrible price for his services.

And he arrives just in time. Keaton, with his white makeup, blackened eyes and hair that looks like he’s constantly sticking his hand in an electrical outlet, slips into his old role with remarkable agility. “The juice is loose,” as he likes to say.

But you know who also provides the momentum? Burton. It’s his inimitable energy that permeates this film – a joyfully executed sequel that sometimes makes sense and sometimes doesn’t, but just keeps on being hilarious. Among the ridiculous delights along the way: A “soul train” in the afterlife that is not only literally a soul train, but a recreation of the variety show “Soul Train,” with people in Afros dancing their way to their destination.

And if we don’t have the original backing track of “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song),” we do have a backing track of “MacArthur Park,” Donna Summer’s version. “Somebody left the cake out in the rain,” go the ridiculous lyrics of the disco classic. “I don’t think I can stand it because it took so long to bake, and I’ll never have that recipe again.”

In true Burton spirit, we’ll just say that while it took a long time to make the film, the director has found the recipe – at least enough to make us smile, giggle and even laugh for 104 minutes. And we can be happy with that.

“Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,” a Warner Bros. Pictures film, is rated PG-13 by the Motion Picture Association “due to violent content, macabre and bloody images, strong language, some suggestive content and brief drug use.” Running time: 104 minutes. Three out of four stars.