When I was a kid, my folks would always tell me there are
some things in this life that you have to do even if you don’t want to. Usually
that phrase preceded a trip to the dentist, bathtub (or some other seemingly
fruitless occupation of my precious time) and in my later teen years a day trip
to France which for some unknown reason was literally the worst thing that
could have happened to me at the time. I don’t remember what was so important
to an 8 year old me that simply wouldn’t wait, nor do I remember why teen angst
me was so horribly opposed to an incredibly brief sojourn to continental Europe
but I can attest to the importance of dental hygiene which will become relevant
later.
I think one of the more poignant lessons in this whole “growing
up” thing that I’m desperately trying to avoid having any part of, is that the
older you get the more you end up having to do boring stuff you know you’ll
hate and the less time you get for this thing you humans call “fun”. Cynically,
one might make a link between that and the fact that I always aim to have these
dumb posts out on a Monday and they’re never usually ready until Tuesday. Just like
today, so cynic here genuinely does have the meaning of realist. Anyway…
If you’ve been following these posts with any sort of
regularity, I can tell you that today is a D-Day of sorts. A long foreseen and
dreaded day where the unspeakable yet inevitable has happened. I would love to
be able to say that whatever prophecy has unfurled has a purpose in the grand
scheme of things; that today marks some sort of turning of the tide. Alas, no
such joy folks. Fate has conspired only to force yet more cinematic misery
through my poor afflicted eyeballs into my increasingly encephalitic brain
meats. In this case, horrific neon turds launched at us with little regard for
our well-being and less regard for our muted protestations. That’s right ladies
and gentlemen…
I watched Ghostbusters.
I used the term watched loosely; after about 15 minutes my
attention span had given me so much grief I resorted to mostly listening to
what was going on on-screen and using my peripheral vision. I have no doubt
that my experience of the movie was actually improved by only half-watching it
and that I probably lost less brain cells throughout the process than everyone
else who watched it in full. It’s like Medusa; look her right in the eyes and
you’re a garden ornament, but if you’re crafty you get to go and fight the
Kraken or whatever.
Let’s put a few things to bed straightaway. You will
probably have heard of the Internet backlash that manifested purely off the
back of the trailer on YouTube. You will likely be aware of the subsequent war
of words that erupted based around the fact that the Ghostbusters are all (Shock!
Horror!) Female. Let it be known from this point forth that I have never given
even the remotest of shits about the gender of the cast and even though anyone
who provided even the most off-hand of criticism was routinely shot down as a
sexist, misogynistic, knuckle-dragging shitlord, let me assure you that the
faults with this movie do not lie with the genetic make-up of its leading
actors. Yes folks, it would be a heaping, coiled turd regardless of who they
had degrading themselves with this nonsense. It’s relentlessly awful.
The main problem with Ghostbusters is that simply put, it’s
not funny. At all. Gone is the wit and charm of the originals replaced with
queef jokes and a palpable sense of desperation to be liked. It’s like that kid
at school who just keeps trying and trying but ultimately has no idea of what
funny actually is and gets beaten up regardless. It’s predictable, clichéd and
relies heavily on trying to be wacky to squeeze a chuckle out of you.
Seriously, who nowadays makes queef jokes? Worst of all, there’s about as much
depth of character as you might expect from a Scooby Doo plot. Actually that’s
a pretty good analogy; stretch an episode of Scooby Doo out over an hour and a
half but replace the gang with Ghostbusters, the Mystery Machine with Ecto One
and the eponymous heroic dog with an overwhelming sense of crushing despair and
you’re pretty much there.
I’m trying to be polite but it’s really difficult to do.
There are a couple of sort of creepy moments at the beginning in the haunted
house, but it reverts to what becomes type for the next 90 minutes; crap jokes
and 90’s Nickelodeon-style goop. Even cameos from most of the original cast
fall flat. Bill Murray as a Psychic Debunker might sound really clever on paper
but it’s actually not; none of it is. The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man appears,
but it’s ultimately soulless and half-hearted at best. Lots was made of Holzman
being the best character in it by far, because she’s zany and does strange and
weird things which is probably meant to be an homage to Egon but just doesn’t
play out. Why, for example, does she lick her guns? Why would anyone lick their
guns? I suppose that’s the point though; like the guy at the office who wears
odd socks and insists on telling you he’s a bit crazy when he’s just a dullard with
no sense of shame who thinks his choice of mismatching hosiery marks him as
some sort of rebel. It does not, go back to your cubicle of shame Howard. I
assume he’s called Howard. She does wacky stuff because she wacky and we’re all
supposed to swoon a bit. Patty is a terrible stereotype and I don’t want to go
into how tone deaf that character is. Kevin the “look we swapped a traditional
gender role” ditzy secretary is hired for his good looks despite being portrayed
as closer autistic than absent minded, Rowan the “nerd who hates the world” who
becomes all powerful after becoming a ghost himself has a whole bunch of stupid
and flagrantly sexist lines which feel so forced it’s like pulling teeth (there’s
that dentist reference, boom!). Many marks have been missed here; if this was
meant to be a glorious affirmation that girls can do just what the boys can, it
falls flat on so many levels because every single character is one dimensional,
fake-quirky and not worth pulling out of a fire. There are much better ways of
achieving that goal and it’s a very worthy goal indeed; just seems nobody on
this production seems to have the subtlety or smarts to do it justice.
At least I can say it’s done now. There is slim chance of a
sequel because thankfully most people foresaw what a hunk of crap this would be
and steered well clear. I for one feel ashamed and aggrieved at myself for
having forked out a measly five English pounds to get the DVD, but even though
I put myself through an hour and a half of this horrible nonsense, I still have
principles enough not to steal it from the internet. Whether that makes me an
idiot or not is up for debate.
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