David Farnor | On 13, Jan 2022

Director: Jason Reitman
Cast: Carrie Coon, Finn Wolfhard, Mckenna Grace, Paul Rudd
Certificate: 12

“What kind of scientist was grandpa?” “The kind that repels loved ones.” That’s Phoebe (Mckenna Grace) and her mum, Callie (Carrie Coon), after they move to Callie’s father’s old home – a tumbleweeding estate in the middle of mid-America. Along with Phoebe’s brother, Trevor (Finn Wolfhard), they hope to make a fresh start there – at least, until they can sell up the place and move back to the city, where they’re overdue on rent. Ghostbusters: Afterlife could never be accused of having such disregard for heritage – it soon becomes clear that this is a sequel built entirely out of nostalgia.

Affection for the past is no bad thing, but Ghostbusters: Afterlife is weighed down not only by nostalgia but also a determination to elevate that past into something approaching sainthood; what began as a plucky supernatural comedy is here treated with a reverence that feels heavy-handed at best and, at worst, stops the franchise from moving forward altogether.

Things start on a wonderful note of promise, as Phoebe and Trevor take centre stage, along with Lucky (Celeste O’Connor), Trevor’s new crush, and Podcast (Logan Kim), Phoebe’s new friend, who has his own podcast. They scamper about piecing together a ghostly mystery, with all the retro cool of Stranger Things and all the earnestness of Super 8 – the film’s affection for Amblin adventures of old is worn proudly on its sleeve, complete with Ghostbusters stickers and badges. But while it’s derivative, it’s certainly entertaining, with Coon’s sarcastic mother playing the comic relief alongside Paul Rudd as an excitable science teacher. Little touches, such as a trap stuck to a remote control car or mini marshmallow critters, give a fresh jolt of energy to the series.

But somewhere along the way to the inevitable end-of-the-world climax, director Jason Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan forget about the new generation of Ghostbusters and start trying to dig up memories of the old ones instead. While the beautiful score from Rob Simonsen benefits from playing with half-forgotten motifs, the script is unbalanced by it, ultimately emerging like a bizarrely unnecessary attempt to correct the direction set by the entertaining 2016 Ghostbusters remake.

Paul Feig’s laughter-heavy entry in the franchise was defined by its irreverence to the material, and handled cameos from familiar faces with a wry wink. Here, such callbacks are treated with the straightest of faces, which leaves the kids purportedly set to inherit the franchise (played brilliantly by the young cast) feeling like they’re only playing second fiddle to the original 80s-era Ghostbusters. The result plays less like a love letter to the franchise and more like a love letter to the fans from 40 years ago, without – crucially – making room for new ones to join the club. What begins as a sweet-hearted sequel is so busy looking back that it ends up crossing its own syrupy streams.

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