Ghostbusters: Afterlife, directed by Jason (Juno) Reitman (Ivan's son), ignores the ill-fated, 2016 reboot and returns to the franchise's roots, but not quite in the way one might expect.
Reitman and Gil (Poltergeist '15) Kenan's script is more of a sentimental throwback, a Stranger Things/Super 8 blend that uses the equipment and tropes of the classic, silly saga to tell a coming-of-age tale.
It's also a story of being misplaced and finding one's place, after Egon Spengler (the late Harold Ramis)'s passing, with his struggling family occupying his shoddy, equipment-strewn home. The move-in occurs just as paranormal activity is about to (re)peak, and with the Ecto-mobile and related doodads on hand, a new group of Ghostbusters must fight supernatural forces in the valiant spirit of what once was.
This new leads consist of Mckenna (The Bad Seed '18) Grace as Phoebe Spengler, Egon's granddaughter; Finn (Stranger Things) Wolfhard as her brother, Trevor; Carrie Coon as Callie, their mom; Kevin Logan as Podcast, their young pal; Celeste O'Connor as Lucky, Trevor's gal; and Paul (Ant-Man) Rudd as good ol' Mr. Gary Grooberson, a supportive science teacher and '80s horror connoisseur: on the whole, likable folks who wander the unassuming fringes to get through life.
Original cast members show up, too: Bill Murray as Peter Venkman, Annie Potts as Janine Melnitz, Ernie Hudson as Winston Zeddemoore, Sigourney Weaver as Dana Barrett and Dan Aykroyd as Ray Stanz. (Oh, and there's a pretty nifty, spectral cameo; venture a guess who it might be?) It's nice that the remaining members visit, though one must be patient for their ensemble manifestation.
With the landmark cast merely popping in (even if in a significant way), that leaves the newbies to steer the escapades. Facing a ghostly vanguard (Hell Hounds, many mini Stay Puft Men, a roly-poly Muncher; J.K. Simmons' Ivo Shandor and Olivia Wilde's Gozer) isn't easy for these nervous but diligent novices, making the underdog group, in particular the awkward, Egon-ish Phoebe, sympathetic and therefore relatable. (Huge thanks to Reitman and Kenan for not making the kids perfect to a niggling fault.)
Because of its self-evasive characterizations and homespun set-up, Afterlife is a gentle melodrama. In fact, its format could have jived just as well for a humble Monster Squad revival, which in its own right is a chip off the ol' Ghostbusters block. Because of this, some might dismiss Afterlife as a cash-in pretext compared to the original set, but it shouldn't be condemned for its quiet disposition: A more direct mega-sequel should have come decades ago when the opportunity was ripe, but oh well.
This alternate path at least makes decent use of the concept's proud remnants: a side note to something that once thundered with guffaws across silver screens but now speaks in a retrospective whisper. It's a nice whisper, though, and one pliable enough to conjure another chapter. I mean, for wholesome, spiritual hunting, who else you gonna call?
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