With so many references to the original, the film ends up feeling like a carbon copy with some women in it
By F.S.
THE all-female reboot of “Ghostbusters” is neither a defiant feminist triumph nor the embarrassing failure that legions of online trolls predicted it would be when the film was announced two years ago. Given the vitriol that has followed the film since its inception, it does well simply not to be a colossal misstep. Director Paul Feig, the go-to guy for female comic blockbusters (which says something in itself) assembles a crack squad of female scientists to take on the paranormal. Each member of this eclectic group unquestionably matches the talent and comic sensibilities of the original 1984 cast.
Kristen Wiig, a “Saturday Night Live” veteran and long-time favourite of Mr Feig from his 2011 hit “Bridesmaids”, plays Erin, a mousy physics professor whose chance of getting tenure at Columbia University is ruined when details of her original academic interest in ghosts, and partnership with loudmouth paranormal researcher Abby (Melissa McCarthy), comes to light. Both are delightfully restrained (a nice change for Ms McCarthy following her recent unfunny and outlandish collaborations with Mr Feig, “The Heat” and “Spy”) and keep the interaction light and easy. “Welcome back,” beams Abby when her former ally agrees to start ghost hunting again—after a (thankfully brief) period of slapstick enmity.
Add in Jillian Holtzmann (a relic of the original) as the oddball engineer and manufacturer of the team’s ghostbusting proton-packs and other weaponry (a hilarious and genuinely original turn by Kate McKinnon, also of “Saturday Night Live”) and Patty (Leslie Jones), a subway worker with an extensive knowledge of New York City landmarks and you’ve got a strong ensemble. The group is tasked not just with fighting an impending apocalypse, but—and here’s the modern take—proving empirically to a sceptical audience that ghosts really do exist. “We are scientists!” echoes the refrain.
In many ways the new version captures the spirit of the original, given that its key characters are underdogs. Though rather than the world-weary man-boys of the "National Lampoon" mould, we have high-achieving nerdy women intent on proving their own worth. They make awkward jokes and flirt with people out of their league, including the surprisingly comic Chris Hemsworth as Kevin: a beefcake twist on the hot, dumb receptionist character type. Ivan Reitman’s 1984 film had a glorious sense of its own pointlessness, despite a big budget and special effects, and here we see that same irreverence. “Get out of my friend, Ghost!” yells Patty, as she literally slaps the supernatural out of Abby’s face.
The film brims with homages to its source material: the cheeky little Slimer ghost, the theme tune (remastered by Missy Elliott and Fall Out Boy), the HQ. Even the original receptionist, played by Annie Potts, makes an appearance. Tonally, it’s incredibly similar too, with a reliance on the sort of silly, overly-technical jargon that seems constantly to wink at the audience. Proton-packs with nuclear reactors, ectoplasm levels and class 4 apparitions? How absurd!
The problem with all the clever, witty references to the original is that the film does not really have an identity of its own. The standout jokes are the rip-offs: a taxi-driver who “ain’t afraid of no ghosts”, a hilarious cameo from a familiar face here and there. The script, co-written by Mr Feig and Katie Dippold, has a decent stab at reinventing the group dynamic with a strong female friendship at its core, but the characters, talented and funny as the actors are, are just ghostly echoes of men in a blockbuster from 32 years ago. There is not quite enough original humour, proper female friendship or feminist reinvention. And some very funny writing is unfortunately interspersed with a lameduck villain (poor Neil Casey) and some pretty unfunny racial stereotyping. Leslie Jones gives Patty her all, but given lazy writing (“Hell, no” and “You guys may know science but I know New York”) her character still feels like a worn black street-smart sidekick stereotype.
Some may argue that the film’s greatest achievement is that it doesn’t appear to be making much of a statement about women at all, other than its pointed jibes at those fictional and real-life trolls (“Ain't no bitches gonna hunt no ghosts,” the team read from an online commentator when the business first gets going). Despite these, the overriding feeling seems to be: women are funny, get over it. But can we—should we?—get over it so soon, when such films are still a rarity?
The original “Ghostbusters”, with its dry wit and outsider heroes, represented a seismic shift in the comedy/blockbuster arena. The new film, with its boiler-suited, funny and very capable women is meant as a seismic shift too—but ends up more as an enjoyably forgettable goofball of a film. This is fine, and certainly a fun night out. But when you have the chance and talent to make a statement about how Hollywood and audience tastes have moved on, perhaps Mr Feig should have strived to make something more compelling than a carbon copy with some women in it.
“Ghostbusters” is out now in British cinemas and is released in America on July 15
