Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters

Let’s take a moment to talk about Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters – no, I won’t be referring to it as the “new” Ghostbusters, the “girl” Ghostbusters, or the “all female” Ghostbusters. When there are multiple movies with the same name, we distinguish between them by citing the director. I learnt that in first-year film class. So smarten the fuck up, paid professionals who keep calling it “insert sex/gender modifier” Ghostbusters. And now that we’re all clear on how to talk about movies, I shall come to the point at hand: I find it hard to be excited about this movie.

I know, I’m a terrible person. I’m probably worse than Hitler, certainly on par with Saddam.

My lack of glee is nothing against Paul Feig or the movie’s cast. Based on his previous work, I’m confident Mr. Feig is up to the task of bringing Ghostbusters out of the 80s. There’s no limit to the potential payoff that would come with filtering the source material through a modern lens. Gender switching, alone, is a good first step. Moving away from tokenism with people of colour would also be good – though success on that front remains to be seen.

Ghostbusters bums me out because no matter how crisp the writing, the film is coming from a place of deep and intense institutional cynicism. Recall the episode of 30 Rock where Jack wanted to make “a good movie.” A good movie, according to the fictional former vice president of General Electric, is one that makes money even before it is released. This joke always stuck with me as effortlessly encapsulating modern Hollywood’s operational guidelines. When movies like Waterworld and The Postman can cost studios fuck tones of money – go home, Costner, you’re drunk – it stands to reason that they would prioritize return on investment over original art.

For those keeping score at home, this is the reason why we are drowning in a world of remakes, reboots, sequels, prequels, and superhero movies. Movies of this ilk are known quantities. They have a built-in audience. They’re easy to spin into merchandisable franchises (cough, Deadpool, cough) and they encourage long-winded jackholes like myself – and the jackholes who get paid for their words – to take to the internet and compose think(?) pieces that end up building the buzz. In the eyes of an ad man, if I’m talking about it, and you are reading about it, he has done a good job.

This isn’t to say that a given remake shouldn’t exist. Taking such a position leads us into the age-old aesthetic quagmire of defining what is and isn’t art, and I don’t want to go there. The point here is that even if I did feel the need for Ghostbusters to be remade, my desire would genuflect to a system that has little interest in originality and experimentation in its storytelling. Is this not a depressing thought? Are you not filled with malaise? Read that last line again but imagine Russell Crowe from Gladiator saying it.

In the broadest possible strokes, I also wonder if the scarcity of non-established franchises leads to things like Inception and Gravity being elevated above their station. Initially, I liked Inception, and I loved Gravity. In retrospect, how much of my affection for both stems from a prejudice akin to a higher credit rating, albeit a credit rating based on originality. Am I more inclined to offer approval to an original work than I am the latest installment of Captain America: Please Watch Agents of SHIELD? Probably. Because while I believe Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters will be good, I’d still like to know how many similar ideas got a pass because the studio deemed them to be too risky.