‘Ghostbusters: Afterlife’ Review: A Loving Tribute To Harold Ramis Is Sabotaged By Fan Service, Overwrought Affections & Itself

Can you pour so much authentic love, tenderness, and warmth into a tribute with your heart in the right place and still get it all wrong? And to that end of questions, is it possible to apply the “wrong” genre to a beloved genre franchise? Well, for the former, “Ghostbusters: Afterlife” certainly makes the case for a cautionary tale about overwrought affections. Because the new film by director Jason Reitman—the son of Ivan Reitman, the director of the original 1984 comedy— is undoubtedly a well-meaning love letter to “Ghostbusters,” and the late Harold Ramis, in particular, but its well-intentioned embrace is too reverent and eventually turns mawkish, even awkward and embarrassing in the final act.  

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It’s a bit of a shame, given how competent ‘Afterlife’ is at certain, unexpected things. One of them, chiefly, being something that “Ghostbusters” never was: a Steven Spielberg-like, Amblin-esque family adventure film. That’s right, despite the original being a scrappy genre comedy about a bunch of hustling, wise-ass underachievers who inadvertently saved the world, ‘Afterlife’ reimagines “Ghostbusters” more along the lines of “E.T.,” “Stand By Me,” “The Goonies,” and coming-of-age adventure films of this ilk. And goddamnit, though it will irk purists (yes, they exist in “Ghostbusters” fandom apparently), it really works. At least at first. And given the failure of Paul Feig’s 2016 version— which, in retrospect, hewed far closer to the 1984 version’s idea of an irreverent comedy with plucky characters—it really makes sense that ‘Afterlife’ goes in another direction, especially when Sony has been so desperate to franchise the series.

In this regard, ‘Afterlife’ is the “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” of the ‘Ghostbusters’ franchise. It’s a legacy-quel that leans into its lore and myths (a little bit more spooky scary this time), it favors a new generation, and its content to play in a similar greatest hits and remix sandbox. To take it one logical step further, ‘Afterlife’ seemingly takes its cues from director J.J. Abrams because the film it mosts resemble is not a Reitman/Murray/Ramis/Aykroyd creation, but the Abrams’ YA sci-fi film, “Super 8” mixed in with “Scooby-Doo” mystery sensibilities.

Beginning with a spooky prologue that hints at the mysterious backstory to where the Ghostbusters have been for some 30-odd years, ‘Afterlife’ flashes forward to the present day. Single mom, Callie Spengler (Carrie Coon), and her teenage kids, Trevor (Finn Wolfhard) and Phoebe (Mckenna Grace), are getting evicted from their New York apartment. With nowhere to go and her father having recently passed, Callie’s only option is to move to Summerville, Oklahoma, and take over the decaying farmhouse her father has left her—her only inheritance. Of course, by now, it’s clear her father is the one and only Egon Spengler (Harold Ramis), and his reputation as a hermetic quack living on a dilapidated dirt farm in the middle of the Midwest, soon begins to haunt the family wherever they go (“You’re related to that guy?” goes the sentiment)

But all there is for Callie is resentment and disdain, the great scientist Egon, seemingly nothing but an absentee father in her eyes. The children, however, especially the preternaturally gifted science whiz Phoebe, see it differently. Her underappreciated smarts and intellect soon put her in the orbit of Gary Grooberson (Paul Rudd), a science summer schoolteacher more interested in investigating the unnatural seismic activity happening in Summerville than instructing. The loner nerd Phobe also befriends the boy “Podcast” (Logan Kim), who soon becomes her trusty sidekick in all things conspiratorial, kooky, and/or supernatural.

Trevor features in a subplot about a crush he has on a local girl (Celeste O’Connor), which leads him to a haunted Summerville mineshaft that starts to tether all the disparate threads together. As Phoebe and Trevor sort through the wreckage of their grandfather’s life left behind for them to uncover, they eventually figure out he was one of the legendary Ghostbusters and begin to decode the message he’d been trying to tell the world for years: ghosts still walk among us and a potential new doomsday is on the horizon.

Of course, it all ties back to the original “Ghostbusters” a little too often and too neatly, right back to the original lore of Gozer, the Gozerian, the Gatekeeper, and the Keymaster, and all the exact plot bits of the original (J.K. Simmons even appears in a cameo as a cult leader who is mentioned in a throwaway line of the original film as the architect of Sigourney Weaver’s gothic high-rise complex in the original; Hardcore ‘GB’ fans will know this is an important character in the video games and lore, and appears to be their attempts at worldbuilding and expanding the cinematic universe as it were).

Soon, the rehash elements begin to drag heavily on what was beginning as an interesting take on loneliness, not fitting in, and the aching melancholy of rotten family legacies. Everything quickly begins to follow the original pattern, there’s Muncher instead of Slimer, but it’s essentially the same character. Gozer’s fire and brimstone guard dogs show up, the Stay Puft Marshmallow makes a modern update and what was briefly interesting and even occasionally exciting begins to feel more rote.

‘Afterlife’ surges to life early on in its Spielberg-ian thrills. The scene where the kids strap on the power packs and take the Ecto-1 hearse out for a ride to chase down ghosts is impossible nostalgic and powerful in a way that may disarm you; reminding you of that exhilarating moment when Rey discovers the Millennium Falcon and takes it for a spin. Composer Rob Simonsen, does a superb job at imitating John Williams and for a brief moment, ‘Afterlife’ looks like it might roar to life in an unexpected way. But much like the movie, what’s elating at first, soon becomes far too familiar, Simonsen reaching for the customary ‘Ghostbusters’musical cues and using them in a superficial manner. “Ghostbusters: Afterlife” knows how to elicit the feels too, and a couple of crucial moments may butterfly swirl around in your heart and your gut. But as is the way of this movie, the filmmakers don’t know when to say when and dial it back into a sweet spot of emotion.

Penned with much fondness by Reitman and writer Gil Kenan, ‘Afterlife’ has a lot of heart, but ultimately not a lot of good taste or sense. There’s some good baggage in Carrie Coon’s character’s unresolved issues with her father and the way that undercuts the ‘Ghosbusters’ lore in a way that feels fresh. However, soon, all that erodes in favor of pleasing fans which only escalates more and more as the film rockets towards its terrifically awful third act. The fan service of the finale is honestly, dreadful and feels like a patronizing cross between a Tupac Shakur Coachella hologram celebration and the condescending “Avengers: Endgame” sheroes, “She’s got help!” crescendo.

By its unfortunate finale—the less we talk about the two tacked-on fan-service-y post-credit scenes the better—‘Afterlife’ has become lifeless and paint-by-numbers in its recreation of the hits and its celebration of itself and its “legends.” It’s a curious mix of contradictions, sentimental in its longing worship for “Ghostbusters” and yet cynical and manipulative in the way it seems to rehash every classic moment of the original, insulting the audience’s intelligence along the way by giving them every cameo, wink, and nod they never knew they actually didn’t want until it was slathered all over them like so much disgusting green ghost goop. [C-]

“Ghostbusters: Afterlife” hits theaters on November 19.