Ghostbusters Again

Ghostbusters works. It’s one of those 80s films that shouldn’t work as well as it does - three guys who don’t know what they’re doing, running a ghost-catching business from a firehouse, saving New York because who else is going to do it. The comedy hits without trying. The effects look weird and charming. Even the subplots about the city itself being some kind of dimensional portal feel completely natural.

I’ve watched it so many times the dialogue is just part of how I think now. The whole thing has this effortless quality that you can’t fake or manufacture. It’s not trying to be clever. It’s just interested in the world it’s built and the people in it, and that interest carries you through.

So they’re making Ghostbusters 3. Ivan Reitman’s son is directing - announced with a trailer I haven’t even watched yet. But I already know the feeling. That moment of hope mixed with dread that comes with legacy sequels. Maybe they could actually do it. Maybe they’ll understand what made the original work. Then immediately: they probably won’t. The original is self-contained. Adding to it always feels like diminishment, no matter how well-intentioned.

It’s weird to love something so completely that you don’t want to see it touched again. But that’s where I am with this.

I’ll watch it anyway. That’s what you do.