Anghus Houvouras on why we should let Ghostbusters die already…
We are nostalgic to a fault.
That’s the thought that keeps ringing through my mind as I swim through the wake of remakes, reboots, and re-imaginings being put into production time and again. We’re living in the age of the franchise wars where studios only want to commit money to known properties. Hollywood is risk averse and new intellectual properties are about as likely to be given the green light as a Joe Ezsterhas biopic starring Dog the Bounty Hunter.
In previous columns I’ve referred to the current state of Hollywood as ‘Zombie Cinema’, where every dead franchise now has a chance to be resurrected. We’re living in an age where fans and filmmakers seem almost desperate to not let go of the properties they once loved. A generation of audiences who want nothing but the warm safe feeling of the familiar. And it’s real damn depressing. Does it speak to perpetual man-child that seems to exist inside film geeks? That inner child that burns brightly as they wax nostalgic, pleased as punch to see their comic book characters are brought to the screen and new life breathed into their favorite childhood movies & TV shows. As they get older, the light slowly dims only kept alive by the knowledge that their favorite movies and shows will never die.
Does it speak to our mortality? Our fear of dying? If the things we love can perpetually stave off death, then perhaps we can too? Or is it our distaste of the unfamiliar. Have we become so obsessed with what we know and like that anything outside the parameters of the pre-existing become impossible to process?
Cinematically speaking, we are spoiled. We are gifted with more of the same even when audiences collectively shrug. We were given a second Hellboy and a Firefly movie even though very few showed up for the first installments. Clash of the Titans was reviled but crossed a financial threshold which allowed a terrible sequel to be made. In spite of an overwhelming ‘meh’ from audiences, they’re considering another Prometheus. Hollywood, and let’s face it, fans, doesn’t seem to know when to let something die.
Nowhere is that more true than the excruciating, endless slog that has become the ballad of Ghostbusters III.
Ghostbusters III is a withering body laid upon a gurney, it’s pale bare chest covered in monitors to keep track of the faint pulse that is barely capable of sustaining life. It’s arms are black and blue from injections and infusions. It’s sallow expression is one of torment. No matter how desperately it wants to cross over to the other side, Sony and a legion of ridiculously entitled fans won’t give it permission to die.
I laughed as I read Max Landis’ proposed Ghostbusters opening scene. It’s the kind of sad, tired scenario that seems clever to people who have an insatiable appetite for the series, which in a few weeks will cross the 25 year mark since it’s been on the silver screen. The origin of Slimer you say? That would be interesting to people only capable of painting with a specific set of colors. These ‘paint by numbers’ types who think filling in blanks and writing origin stories for pre-existing characters equals creative writing. Origin stories are lazy. Coloring within the lines is becoming a career options for an entire generation of young filmmakers.
Bryan Singer, the Usual Suspects was a really well thought out, white knuckle thriller. Here’s X-Men… and Superman… and X-Men again. Rian Johnson, you’ve made a couple of really interesting movies. Well thought out films like Brick and Looper. Congratulations, here’s the Star Wars franchise to manage. Gareth Edwards, you did an impressive job with a limited budget on Monsters. We’ve got the perfect giant monster franchise for you. Josh Trank, Chronicle was an interesting take on the superhero genre so obviously you get the Fantastic Four. It’s almost like your first movie is an audition for your eventual assimilation into the franchise process.
Ghostbusters III needs to be allowed to die with whatever shred of dignity it has remaining. Bill Murray has rebuffed the idea time and again. Harold Ramis is dead and in the ground for God’s sake. What are we still hoping for. A sad third installment with new faces and cameos from Ernie Hudson, Dan Akroyd, and god forbid Rick Moranis? Or should we just clean the slate and start over?
Let it die, party people. Let Ghostbusters be that classic movie that was lightning in a bottle. And let Ghosbusters II be that well-intentioned sequel that just didn’t quite recapture the magic but is still an entertaining mess. Do you need a third Ghostbusters movie? Or are you so desperate for nostalgia that you’d rather them wheel out another installment of this wheezing, aged franchise being cruelly kept on life support?
Let it die.
Anghus Houvouras is a North Carolina based writer and filmmaker. His latest work, the novel My Career Suicide Note, is available from Amazon. Follow him on Twitter.
Originally published June 22, 2014. Updated April 15, 2018.
