Jonny Numb

I liked Paul Feig’s 2016 Ghostbusters (later retitled Ghostbusters: Answer the Call). I didn’t view it as a corrective to anything that had come before – simply a new chapter, expanding on the possibilities of the Ghostbusters universe with new characters and situations, while pulling in some cameos from the original cast (human and ghost). The backlash against the film sent a clear message: in a nostalgia-drenched, “Stranger Things” climate where homage rules over all, the most vocal and critical fans wanted more of the same.

And with 2021’s Jason Reitman-helmed Ghostbusters: Afterlife, they got it in big, crashing waves.

Afterlife was viewed as a corrective to Answer the Call, to the point where Feig’s film was excluded from subsequent physical-media collections. A similar thing happened when David Gordon Green’s 2018 Halloween reboot gave Michael Myers “back to the fans” after Rob Zombie had the audacity to take the mythos in a different direction with his much-maligned (but secretly great) duology.

Watching Reitman (son of series producer Ivan) execute what ultimately amounted to an uninspired rehash of the original Ghostbusters, a certain bitterness washed over me. As one familiar scenario after another unfolded…as one uninteresting character after another populated the screen (save for McKenna Grace’s Phoebe Spengler)…and as the original surviving cast (Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson) banded together to bring down a Big Bad (so unmemorable I’d have to Wiki the plot to envision what it was) – maybe for the final time – I was left with a sad realization: the seemingly unstoppable nostalgia meat-grinder had unceremoniously claimed one of the most important pop-culture touchstones from my formative years.

When folks use the cynical industry-speak of “content,” Ghostbusters: Afterlife is my go-to example. Lacking any sense of artistic creativity, it existed solely to give a juicy payday to people who didn’t need it. (Perhaps your heartbreak occurred with some other beloved series; it’s all subjective.)

In fact, Afterlife – its very title a bit of winking nostalgic wordplay – left such a bad taste that the looming trailers for Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire (FE hereafter) inspired a pit-of-stomach dread that had nothing to do with supernatural goings-on and everything to do with, “how much more will they fuck this up?”

I relented long enough to take in a matinee, and was surprised at what unfolded before me…from the first frame, FE felt like an honest-to-goodness Ghostbusters story (even though the trailers made it look like a sequel to Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children). The “cold” open flashback; the flash-forward to the new Ghostbusters (Paul Rudd, Carrie Coon, Finn Wolfhard, and Grace) racing through the streets of Manhattan to bring down a stubborn specter; the reveal that Walter Peck (William Atherton) is no longer an EPA puppet, but mayor of New York (irony!).

Murray, Aykroyd, and Hudson show up in character, but are better integrated into the story this time out, and used as more than a deus ex machina to help out the new generation. They actually have stuff to do besides strap on proton packs to bring down some class-10 baddie out of Tobin’s Spirit Guide.

Perhaps it’s the Rob Zombie thing all over again: director Gil Kenan shows more confidence with the storytelling, and wonder at the gadgetry and mythos, than the younger Reitman did in Afterlife (perhaps his familial connection to the original series was an impossible hurdle, leading to a self-conscious rehash of the 1984 film).

There’s an omnipresent sense of fascination that even elevates the callbacks to something more than mere “gotcha!” moments, and transforms the fresh plot elements into something that gave me a peculiar confidence toward future outings from this particular group of Ghosbusters.

The film explores Phoebe’s burden of being a super-smart kid, as she gets caught up in the bureaucracy of child-labor laws and the general sense of loneliness that affects most brilliant minds. When a ghost named Melanie (Emily Alyn Lind – The Babysitter: Killer Queen) materializes with the intimation of being friends, it’s a new angle for a series that has relegated the supernatural to threatening “boo!” moments or cast-off sight gags. There’s more to it than that, plot-wise, but to give a not-yet-crossed-over ghost their own arc is admirable.

While Rudd, Coon, and Wolfhard settle into their characters more comfortably this time out, and their family dynamic is given more dramatic weight, one of FE’s flaws is an odd tendency to lose track of the cast – the balance is a bit off, indicating an issue with the overall script structure (or perhaps editing in post). Maybe an extended cut will offer a more balanced experience?

Still, that’s a minor compliant when FE otherwise does so much so well. As a Kumail Nanjiani fan, his presence as a slacker deadbeat pawning off his grandmother’s priceless items for pennies – and potential key to defeating the Big Bad at the film’s core – is a consistent source of laugh-out-loud moments. Patton Oswalt steals a scene as an occult geek (shades of Ray Stantz) who provides backstory on said Big Bad – though one of his lines is curiously overdubbed. And the Big Bad itself – looking a bit like “Samhain” from The Real Ghosbusters animated series – is an effectively threatening and malicious presence.

Whereas the final confrontation in Afterlife was so peripheral I can’t remember much about it, the machinations of FE’s third act are not only cathartic, but instilled a genuine sense of hope in me that this series, if it continues (and I’m guessing it will, in some form or another), has the potential to expand the Ghostbusters universe in new and interesting directions.

Shoot, the notion of Phoebe leading the charge for future entries is reason enough to get excited. Maybe a crossover with the ladies of Ghostbusters 2016? Pretty please?

3.5 out of 5 stars