Every remake is a bad idea that has the burden of showing us that it’s a good idea. They’re guilty until proven innocent and comedies have it even harder. They’re the worst movies to remake because beloved comedies often rely on more than a great script. Infinitely more important in many cases is a rare chemistry among the performers that can’t be recreated when others assume the old roles. This is why actors who strike gold together in one popular comedy will often get paired together again and again. This is why film history is full of comedy teams. This is why no one’s ever tried to remake a Marx Brothers movie (unless you count the terrible early 90s tribute film Brain Donors, which you shouldn’t).
And this is why the remake of Ghostbusters is about as useful as a fourth nipple (a third one is at least a curiosity).
First let’s say what’s good about it.
I think everyone is having a good time. Their possibly improvised exchanges in some scenes are as funny as witnessing the murder of a close family member, but no one seems uncomfortable. No one looks like they don’t want to be there. They’re on this ship and they’re ready to ride it, even if it sinks five miles off the coast. Also, I like Kate McKinnon in the Harold Ramis role, which she plays as more of a near-malevolent mad scientist.
And, uh, that’s about it for the good stuff.
As for the bad stuff, this film is tone-deaf in every way. Literally everybody in it is constantly doing shtick at every moment, even the characters who walk on for one scene. No one’s a straight man (in the comedy sense). No one talks or reacts like anything resembling a human being. Everyone’s wearing their Wacky Hats at all times.
Yet even that’s less desperate than the film’s way-too-many sly references to the original film in the form of a cameo, a catchphrase or a callback, all delivered with a sledgehammer. They might could pull that off if this was a continuation of the earlier series, but it’s not. It’s a straight-up remake. A clean start. A new beginning. A whole new thing. Yet it doesn’t stake out its own turf. Director Paul Feig hedges all of his bets by leaning on a nostalgic applause break moment every ten minutes. He’s too reverent to the original film to ever get out from under its shadow. He seems happy to play the sub to its dom. Maybe he secretly wanted the public whipping that this film received.
Still, you know what the WORST thing about this movie might be? These characters are in New York City and they eat PAPA JOHN’S PIZZA! What the fuck? Have you ever had Papa John’s pizza? It tastes like Saltine crackers with mozzarella and supermarket tomato sauce on top. You can barely tell the pizza from the cardboard box that its delivered in. I live in Texas and even I won’t eat Papa John’s. I don’t know what kind of people in New York City, where great pizza is all over the place, eat Papa John’s, but I don’t want to see a movie about them fighting ghosts. Sorry, Paul Feig. Whatever benefits were reaped from that product placement association were not worth it.
Now that I think of it, maybe it is appropriate. Ghostbusters ’16 is the Papa John’s pizza of movies. It kinda reminds you of something good, but it ain’t good.