The internet is astir, because someone in Hollywood has given the go ahead to two writers from The Office to write a script for a third Ghostbusters movie that would reconvene the original cast. No, David Blaine. The argument that Hollywood is out of ideas is a common one, and not a summer goes by without something being dredged up from Old News Lake and remade for the big business of nostalgiaploitation. Those are both true, but this isn’t even about that. And this is not some fanboy rant about not wanting to see my precious Ghostbusters tarnished by a half-assed cash grab. It’s definitely a half-assed cash grab, but the original cast is great, and writers on The Office are good writers, so at the very least it’s a half-assed cash grab with genuine talent behind it. Besides, I sleep in a big boy bed now, with man sheets, and cannot be bothered with the exhausting enthusiasms of my youth (i.e. I am waiting for death.)
But the simple fact of the matter is that cleaning up New York’s ghosts is a grim fucking topic.
Ghosts might have been funny in the ’80s when the future was one long cocaine line spread out on the hood of a Porsche, but now the future is basically just constant war in Iraq. Forever. And New York ghosts in particular, while they might have been cute in the ’80s when they were Slimer bouncing off the walls of the Sedgewick Hotel, now, to put as fine and morbid a point on it as possible, there are a whole bunch of them in the financial district that I’m not entirely convinced we want to see shoved into those weird ghost glue traps and put into the Ghost Containment Unit in the fire station basement to be guarded by Janine.
And we definitely don’t need to see that shit on a juice box.
Ecto-cooler. Never forget.