Ghostbusters: Afterlife Is Nostalgia Whack-A-Mole at Its Worst

If I had to guess that Ghostbusters: Afterlife will end up gifting anything lasting to contemporary cinema, it will be as an unequivocal litmus test for what kind of moviegoer you are: One who appreciates a tsunami of callbacks from a much better film cobbled together into some semblance of something, or as someone who begs for an exit strategy from any nostalgia onslaught that completely takes over after the first act.
I’m in the latter camp, as someone who desperately hoped to receive a fresh installment of Ghostbusters mythology that might rival the comedic/supernatural genius that almost 40 years ago birthed into existence Gozer the Gozerian, The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, terror dogs, and the concept of crossing the streams. As a kid, I remember sitting in a darkened summer theater witnessing what felt like my first grown-up comedy where the jokes were so great, you missed a lot of the dialogue amidst the roars of laughter.
Sadly, Ghostbusters: Afterlife is not our savior.
And to add insult to injury, writer/director Jason Reitman dangles the carrot of a fun and exceptionally cast sequel that was ready to stand on its own merits until the nostalgia itch got so bad, he had to unleash the beast which, like Slimer in that hotel hallway, devours everything original in its path.
Positioned as a direct sequel to Ghostbusters II, set thirty years after the supernatural events of that film, Ghostbusters: Afterlife opens with a prologue that sets up a spectral disturbance centering on a rural farmhouse protected by strange scientific gadgetry that seems to be the work of a shadowy man with Dr. Egon Spengler’s silhouette. But he’s overcome by that supernatural entity, and whatever he captured in a familiar Ghostbusters trap is lost under a tattered chair that also looks oddly familiar.
The not-so-subtle connections are in overdrive from the get-go, including a score that steals so heavily from Elmer Bernstein’s brilliant Ghostbusters work, I don’t know how someone from his estate isn’t suing. But gratefully, the script then pivots to Egon’s grown daughter, Callie Spengler (Carrie Coon), a single mom who lives in the city with her tween daughter Phoebe (Mckenna Grace) and teen son Trevor (Finn Wolfhard). Long estranged from her dad, the news of his demise serves only to spur her to pack up their life and relocate to Summerville, Oklahoma in hopes of being left something worth selling in his will. It’s a bleak inciting incident but the trio are so charming from the start—with Callie’s acerbic mood playing well against Trevor’s sass and Phoebe’s dead-on channeling of grandpa Egon’s singular, socially awkward personality—that it all works.
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- movies The 50 Best Movies on Hulu Right Now (September 2025) By Paste Staff September 12, 2025 | 5:50am
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