ghostbusters: frozen empire

I’ve seen Ghostbusters: Afterlife four times now and I feel like my overall regard for it has diminished a little more upon each viewing. Initially, filtering the components of the beloved 1984 original through the more family-friendly lens of an Amblin-style feature felt like a pretty winning combination… thanks in no small part to the film’s genuinely likable cast. It gets increasingly difficult, however, to overlook the story’s hollow center; an aggressively nostalgic retread that almost borders on the shameless by the third act (also, while fashioning the story as a tribute to the late Harold Ramis feels sincere, there’s no getting around the fact that this is a version of Egon who simply didn’t exist in the previous movies). It all feels a bit too calculated in its pandering to the fandom. Ghostbusters may be my all-time favorite movie, but I’m not crazy with how it’s become the poster franchise for weaponizing the almost feral reverence for one’s childhood.    

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire - which sees Jason Reitman pass the directing reins to his co-writer Gil Kenan (who made the underrated animated pic Monster House and that Poltergeist remake that seems to have been scrubbed from cinematic history) - marks a welcome return to New York City (Sony was seemingly willing to loosen the purse strings a little more after Afterlife’s respectable box office showing). Picking up three years later, ghostbusting is now a family business for the Spengler clan - mom Callie (Carrie Coon), surrogate dad Gary (Paul Rudd), older son Trevor (Finn Wolfhard), and younger daughter Phoebe (Mckenna Grace), who remains arguably more competent than the other three combined. But a run-in with New York’s mayor  Walter Peck (the returning William Atherton, whose officious edge has slightly dulled with age) leaves the underage Phoebe benched… driving a wedge into the familial operation just as a fresh crisis presents itself in the form of an orb that contains an ancient demonic god capable of unleashing an ice age upon the city.

At its best, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire evokes the vibe not of the original film, but of the franchise’s equally beloved animated series… it’s the sort of lore-heavy supernatural adventure that Dan Aykroyd seemed to originally envision when he was first developing the concept, before Ramis and Ivan Reitman helped ground it (whereas Bill Murray appears mildly embarrassed to still be suiting up in his 70s, Aykroyd can barely repress his glee - particularly when tasked with any convoluted, ghost-related exposition). Those complaining that what began as an irreverent comedy with a distinct mixture of SNL and National Lampoon DNA in its veins now treats its inner-mythology with solemn reverence fail to grasp how malleable the premise is. Evolution is more than welcome. The issue is that the humor once did the heavy lifting - the paranormal balderdash only had to provide basic narrative propulsion (the brilliance of Ghostbusters was that the premise, at heart, was about starting a business… and that business just happened to be poltergeist removal). Frozen Empire has ample charm, but the laughs are milder… and the plot feels exposed, its basic thinness better suited to a half-hour cartoon.

This is also a film that clearly suffers from casting bloat. The entire lineup from Afterlife is essentially run back - and that includes Phoebe’s pal Podcast (Logan Kim, who clearly and jarringly experienced puberty between productions), who’s been appointed Ray’s sidekick in the occult bookshop, and Trevor’s onetime love interest Lucky (Celeste O’Connor), who’s interning at a paranormal think tank bankrolled by Winston (she might still be Trevor’s love interest - who can tell when they exchange all of two lines?). With the original Ghostbusters taking a more central role and new characters to integrate (including the likes of Kumail Nanjiani and Patton Oswalt), it’s a lot to juggle. Coon, Rudd, and Wolfhard all get sidelined to various degrees, though the talented Mckenna Grace thankfully remains the star of the show. As Phoebe, her social discomfort has been supplemented with a spiky dose of teenage sullenness (at one point she tells Callie “If you weren’t a Spengler, you’d be answering our phones”). But her friendship with a teenage ghost named Melody (played by Emily Alyn Lind) doesn’t really make much sense (the movie hints at a romantic spark, but mostly dances around it). Phoebe keeps saying Melody is the only person who understands her, but all she seems to offer is a sense of haughty cool. Gary struggling with the desire to be Phoebe’s pal and the need to be a father figure to her is far more compelling, but Rudd’s arc is given short shrift, frustratingly (Coon, sadly, is given even less to do - a truly wasted asset).​

Thankfully, the paranormal spectacle still has the capacity to dazzle. Kenan shows a much surer hand with the FX work than Paul Feig ever did in the calamitous 2016 version. The film’s opening chase sequence - which sees Ecto-1 pursuing a spectral “sewer dragon” through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen - is a low-key banger. There are plenty of fun flourishes - such as when one of the iconic marble lions outside the New York Public Library comes roaring to life. Nostalgic callbacks are once again plentiful (Slimer returns; Ray has another run-in with the Gray Lady in the stacks), though not quite as aggressive as the trailers seemed to indicate. Garraka - an elongated wraith with massive demon horns and no personality to speak of - isn’t much of a villain though. The climax is crying out for its own version of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, a creative curveball designed to galvanize the audience with giddy delight. Given its lack of reliable IP, Sony seems determined to milk the franchise for all its worth. I have mixed feelings. Bustin’ will always make me feel good, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life doing it.