Ghostbusters: Afterlife had no idea what makes the Ghostbusters tick, and co-writers Gil Kenan and Jason Reitman still don’t have a clue (the latter gave up the director’s chair to the former for this outing, but the difference is negligible).
Like Paul Rudd quoting Ray Parker Jr.’s hit song, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire knows the words but not the music. While containing familiar elements, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire is devoid of the heart, humor, originality, and creativity that defined the iconic franchise, especially the classic first film.
The Ghostbusters formula (the heroes screw up and get shut down, but they nonetheless save the day, culminating in the obligatory final scene where a crowd of New Yorkers spontaneously materialize to cheer their little hearts out) has been diluted to homeopathic proportions. Bustin’ makes me feel good, but there’s precious little of it in this movie.
You know you’re in trouble when Bill Murray’s role is only slightly more prominent than Slimer’s. It makes you wonder why they brought him back at all. Murray, that is; I know that Slimer is there to give Finn Wolfhard something to do.
Wolfhard’s character is otherwise expendable and could have easily been written out. His involvement in a film that prioritizes nostalgia and profit over storytelling appears to be a marketing tactic to entice Stranger Things fans, rather than a creative choice that adds complexity to the story.
In general, the decision to cast angsty teenagers as ghostbusters was clearly driven by commercial motives rather than artistic considerations. This choice significantly alters the dynamic established in the early installments of the franchise. Moreover, the fact that human antagonist Mayor Walter Peck (William Atherton) thinks it’s a reckless notion makes him the only sensible character in the entire movie.
But then the script as a whole is careless, as well as contrived. We’re told that “any emotionally charged object can contain a ghost, as long as it’s experienced some sort of horrific event,” only to be immediately introduced to “Possessor,” a “spry little weasel [that] can occupy any inanimate matter it wants.” The only explanation for this glaring contradiction is that the screenplay requires that it be so.
More notoriously, the villain’s convoluted, coincidence-dependent plan involves Phoebe Spengler (Mckenna Grace) performing a specific action. The bad guy manipulates the ghost of Melody (Emily Alyn Lind) to influence Phoebe; however, the pivotal moment in the story is propelled solely by Phoebe’s initiative, with minimal or no influence from Melody.
Incidentally, Melody can “transapparate” (go through walls and shit), levitate, and appear and disappear at will — and yet there’s a shot of her walking down the street. Huh? Why would she need to walk anywhere? That scene encapsulates just how awkward Kenan and Reitman’s writing is.
Awkward and lame. Joke after joke after joke falls flatter than the Earth in Kyrie Irving’s mind. To mention but one example, there’s a Discman “possessed by an evil Spin Doctors CD.”
As if the Nickelodeon/Disney Channel crowd for whom this film was intended would know what the Spin Doctors, a Discman, or a CD are. Then again, I understand the reference but still don’t think it’s funny at all.
At least the movie looks good — until it doesn’t. I don’t mind throwaway CGI ghosts, like the “Hell’s Kitchen Sewer Dragon” (never mind that dragons aren’t real; how can something that doesn’t exist become a ghost? Also, Hell’s Kitchen? Wouldn’t Chinatown make more sense?).
The real problem is the Big Bad. Although puppetry was allegedly used, it’s like the filmmakers were embarrassed by it or thought that the audience would find it silly, so they went ahead and gave the villain a coat of digital lacquer to make it look computer-generated regardless. By relying on digital enhancements, the impact of the villain is diminished, making it difficult for the audience to fully invest in the threat it poses.
Gozer the Gozerian and Vigo the Carpathian were portrayed through live-acting, make-up, and costumes. They projected menace and commanded authority, to the point that even the wisecracking protagonists couldn’t help taking them seriously.
In contrast, Garraka (who can bring forth from the ground such brittle-looking CGI stalagmites you doubt they could successfully impale a marshmallow) has no presence and no personality, undermining its ability to instill fear or create a lasting impact on the audience — no wonder it takes as little as Kumail Nanjiani’s impression of a firebender to vanquish it.
Leave a comment