A soulless source of corporate drivel, fuelled excessively by nostalgia (for a project that was, basically, just about greedy 80s pest controllers accidentally saving the world with the timing of their grift) painting its protagonists as heroes for the sole reason that they are the ones the audience remembers.
Now taking place in the modern day after an especially cynical, "tug at the heartstrings because one of the cast is dead, and let's waste Bob Gunton" legacy sequel, the film struggles to justify its own existence. The plot is a carbon copy of the first film (an evil, unspecified entity seeks to enthrall all ghosts and take over the world, and an ordinary guy civilian must step up to the plate in the interim, even being called "The Fire Master" this time around) but peppered with a dozen or so ideas to pretend as if it was written, and to give screentime to its myriad of hastily sketched characters rather than arcs. Our protagonists are essentially merely present for proceedings, Carrie Coon receiving about 8 lines and having no arc beyond the (quite justifiable) "Daughter, stay at home because you are 15, and thus it is illegal for you to work with us"; Paul Rudd gets a scene and a half about taking on the mantle of stepfather (almost certainly a Gil Kenan addition, watch "Monster House" instead) before just having a "Wow she called me dad!" line at the end, no payoff, just "huh, guess that's done!"; Finn Wolfhard is here, and sits in the basement. Slimer is there. Also, Finn Wolfhard wants to drive the car in the opening scene. Then in the final scene Carrie Coon throws Finn Wolfhard the keys. Way to use Finn Wolfhard guys...
McKenna Grace almost gets the throughline and story: she has a relationship with a burned up ghost (Emily Alyn Lynd, really relishing her "Nora Zehetner" energy, and making me wish for more Nora Zehetner movies, and wanting to watch "Doctor Sleep" again), which could be sweet and touching and gentle in the right hands, and given room to breathe, but like all things here it is underwritten, and serves only to have an "oh no! She was using her, and is conflicted!" cursory reveal halfway through, removing tension, stakes, drama and comedy.
Slimer is in it.
Dan Akroyd and Ernie Hudson get, again, perfunctory lines about "maybe we're old..." but they go nowehere, and the introduction of a ghost research lab serves entirely to justify not just Ernie Hudson but the rest of the supporting cast, and maybe the threadbare plot.
Bill Murray says things. I guess they're funny? I never really got the Bill Murray hype, he has done some good movies, and some bad movies.
Janine the secretary wears a Ghostbuster uniform! That's cool, right guys? That's a joke! That's an arc, right? Right?
Celeste O'Connor, the token non-binary actor and the token black actor in the new cast, is present. They are there, they are in the lab, they technically are in the film. Once again, Hollywood wastes the excellent Celeste O'Connor, so I suppose they are at least keeping to tradition.
Kumail Nanjani threatens to make the film funny, as a lovable waster who must save the world after pawning off his grandmother's Ghost Guardian Gear for 50 bucks, that could have been fun. He got a few smirks out of me.
And I must give my sincere thanks to James Acaster: not just in general, he's bloody brilliant, but for getting the token laugh, the only actual joke in this film.
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