Review "Ghostbusters" 2016

FEIG, Paul, “Ghostbusters”, Columbia Tristar Pictures, 2016.

I went to see the first Ghostbusters movie in Geneva, which is how I ended up seeing Disney’s “The Black Cauldron”. The session of “Ghostbusters” that we were angling towards – a “VO” or “version originale” session in the original language – had been dumped in favour of the German language print and so we went to the cinema next door to see Uncle Walt’s latest offering instead. If they’d been playing the French dubbed version I would have stuck it out, but my German was pretty woeful so it would have been money wasted. Still, we were back the next night and the VO session was all systems go: it turned out that it was worth waiting for.

As a result, I had high hopes for this re-boot and was looking forward to a good time. Unlike many other fan-boys out there, it bothered me not at all that the new cast was an all-girl affair; my main concern was that the movie stuck to its rationale and dished up the laughs with the scares in equal serves. Sadly, it was not to be.

Comedy, it seems, has taken a sharp turn into a place that I don’t understand. Movies like “Bridesmaids” and “The Hangover” are based on topics which I find deeply un-funny, and the technique behind them seems to be based largely on improvisational theatre, where a scene is set up and then allowed to lurch its un-scripted way forwards until it collapses to the floor like a spent balloon before moving on. This is okay if you enjoy watching nervy and neurotic people wittering on in a vaguely embarrassed and awkward fashion before running out of steam, but I do not count myself amongst that crowd. Noel Coward-esque it ain’t.

The movie therefore is a series of these un-scripted stagings, each getting set up and then being allowed to completely fizzle out, exhausted of all its potentiality. Kristen Wiig visits her old friend, angry that she has published a book that they both agreed to never let see the light of day; as she bursts into Melissa McCarthy’s laboratory, McCarthy appears wearing a stupid-looking electronic helmet. They bat this around until it dies a death and a scripted exit allows them to finally leave it alone. Cut to the next set up; rinse and repeat. Frankly, it’s dull. It’s one thing to trust that your comedians will find the comedy gold in the situation, but – as a paying customer – I’m here to see that gold, not the mining process.

The flailing around for the funny also has a detrimental effect on the characters. While on the lookout for the right moment, the actors aren’t really inhabiting their roles, and their portrayals suffer from a lack of commitment. Of the four leads, only Kate McKinnon was convincingly wearing her character’s skin; the rest were just wearing funny clothes.

Still, I guess if you enjoy this kind of humour, then you may like this film. Certainly there were no problems with the special effects: the ghosts were very well executed and quite alarming in places – although that irritating “Slimer” ghost was back again, taking up way too much screen time than its presence warranted. These films are also known for their music, and again, this was very enjoyable - I boogied along quite happily in my cinema seat. The only other problem was the cameos.

To my mind, a re-boot should be just that: dust it off and do it again. Put your own mark on it; make it fresh and get it out there once more. Take the core of those original ideas and move the concept onto to another, more startling, place. There is a strong sense in this movie of paying debts to the past and frankly, it could have done without them. As the movie rolls along, all of the original cast members from the first film show up: Bill Murray is an antagonistic parapsychologist; Annie Potts is a hotel receptionist; Ernie Hudson runs a funeral service business; Sigourney Weaver is McKinnon’s character’s mentor. Even the StayPuft Marshmallow man is back. Of these, the only one that is amusing is Dan Ackroyd as a grumpy New York cabbie who “ain’t afraid o’ no ghosts”. Waiting for each of these guys to do their bit and get it over with is just painful; at least Rick Moranis had the good taste to be excused.

I don’t get what all this sacred cow nonsense is about. If Paul Feig wanted to do a Ghostbusters film then why the hell didn’t he just go and do it? The script; the cast; the story – it was all bogged down with other people’s trash and a heavy notion of ‘paying their dues’ to be allowed to play in this sandpit. Basically, they just shot themselves in the foot. And not only that – the post-credit sequence, which sets the new Ghostbusters up for a sequel, references mayhem from the demonic entity Xul, who – as we all remember – was the evil being from the 1984 film. Come on! Do something new already!

J.J. Abrams is the current ‘re-boot queen’ at the moment, reanimating everything that he can get his hands on. His first Star Trek movie managed to involve Leonard Nimoy in a cameo as Spock without bogging-down the proceedings; it was new and fresh. His next ‘Trek offering was less successful, being simply “Wrath of Khan” turned inside out. Even his turn at the helm of “Star Wars” – while better than anything George Lucas could ever do – was still peppered with a wealth of nostalgic dead weight that wasted opportunities for doing something ground-breaking. Is this what we have to live with now? Warm fuzzy feelings brought on by repetitious re-introductions of old elements of franchise films? Do we somehow fool ourselves that, just because we spotted an in-joke when a former mainstay actor pops up, that we are somehow more clever than we suspected? It’s a pretty hollow victory. Maybe such re-introductions are there to comfort us in the face of a brutally uncertain world? If so, who decided that we need such soothing? It’s an opiate people; designed to keep us focussed on the Kardashians and their vapid ilk.

In the final analysis, there’s really nothing new to see here. Maybe in the sequel they’ll feel that they own the property enough to do something with it, but I suspect not. Buy the soundtrack instead.

Two tentacled horrors.

Postscript: Can I just say that I was REALLY disappointed that this didn't work? After months of idiot geeks (who should know better) railing about how "only men can be Ghostbusters", the only people that let this vehicle down were the writers and the director. What we have here is a failure to commit. This franchise is its own genre and either you get it or you don't. The end credits for this film are a sad list of those who didn't.