There’s been so much MRM-ish vitriol, so much “How very dare the Ghostbusters people!” by now that it’s all a reviewer can do not to belabor the point even further. But such is the earth-shattering importance of a female-driven summer movie tent pole—one that treads on filmic holy ground, no less—amid global chaos. And so, who in fact are you going to call?
Paul Feig, for starters. The Bridesmaids helmer was a smart if obvious choice to direct the female-led reboot of the beloved 1984 classic. Feig and co-screenwriter Katie Dippold are quick to poke at the online misogyny and the gender disparity of Hollywood’s time-honored boys club. Their Ghostbusters is self-aware while not at all bitter, copping to the unfounded hatred hurled its way by critics who doth protest, “Ain’t no bitches gonna hunt no ghosts,” as Leslie Jones reads of one YouTube naysayer early in the film.
Jones, who plays Patty Tolan, a former MTA worker turned tongue-in-cheek “ghost girl,” is one among an ensemble of casting masterstrokes that, again, gave much hope for the reboot. The current Saturday Night Live breakout co-stars with her sketch comedy colleague Kate McKinnon, SNL alumna Kristin Wiig and frequent host Melissa McCarthy. If you must draw reductive lines in this reboot—once more, not remake—Wiig’s buttoned-up scientist is the Harold Ramis of the group, McCarthy’s more manic smartypants the Dan Akroyd, McKinnon’s sarcastic oddball the Bill Murray, and Jones’ everyday New Yorker-turned-fourth member the Ernie Hudson (an unfortunate toeing of established racial lines—could she have also been on their intellectual playing field this time around?).
Wiig is Erin Gilbert, a professor at Columbia nearing the end of her tenure track, whose career security goes up in flames with the embarrassing reappearance (thanks, Amazon) of her long-buried book on the paranormal. She co-wrote the derided tome way back when with her since-estranged pal, Abby Yates (McCarthy), who has in turn taken up with McKinnon’s eccentric engineering genius, Jillian Holtzmann. But no sooner do reports start coming their way of spooky happenings all over the Big Apple do the old friends reunite, Holtzmann and, soon, Tolan along for the adventures. To really drive home the gendered script-flipping, the crew hires a dumb-as-rocks piece of eye candy, giddily played by Chris Hemsworth, to handle secretarial duties.
In shows of approval, members of the original cast make cameos ranging from a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it posthumous nod (a bronzed bust of Ramis) to a few seconds (Akroyd) to a couple of scenes (Murray, in Very Murray Fashion)—the only one missing here is Rick Moranis (who apparently turned it down, go figure). Feig and co. make reference after reference to the first film that feel both familiar and fresh, and the top-notch special effects will look unsurprisingly newfangled for fans of the original in particular. That said, the 3D component is of little benefit here, comparison or not.
And that’s where I find it difficult to continue. Because there’s surprisingly, unfortunately, little of great benefit here. Not really.
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