How Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire Forgets Its Roots
Why can’t Hollywood make a proper sequel to Ghostbusters? That was the only running through my brain following Frozen Empire last weekend. After 40 years, three sequels, a remake, and a slew of animated TV projects, the best and brightest artists have yet to capture the magic of 1984’s classic comedy.
Is Ghostbusters simply too perfect to replicate? Has the concept proven too thin to carry a franchise? Or was the cast a unique amalgamation of gifted up-and-comers that is nearly impossible to replicate?
I still can’t find a satisfying answer nearly a week later, but I have a few theories.
Ghostbusters
Ghostbusters was an astronomical success when it hit theaters on June 8, 1984. A novel concept, sharp script, crafty special effects, and a star-making performance by the legendary Bill Murray blasted audiences with enough cinematic goodwill they rewarded with an incredible $295 million worth of tickets sold domestically or roughly $722M adjusted to inflation. Remember how wildly Top Gun: Maverick was two years ago? Yeah, that was the fervor behind Ghostbusters, which remains the highest-grossing comedy of all time, narrowly outgrossing Beverly Hills Cop and Home Alone. Reitman “essentially kickstarted a genre that delivered everything to everyone — a steroidal blockbuster mash-up of everything playing at your local multiplex in a single package,” wrote Rolling Stone in 2016.
Indeed, Ghostbusters remains a pitch-perfect production that makes few (if any) missteps throughout its swift 105-minute runtime. The razor-sharp script produced endlessly quotable lines; the story evolves enough to keep even the shortest attention spans engaged, and the film effortlessly blends smart-ass comedy with the right amount of horror to satisfy fans of each genre. Older audiences appreciated the crass, adult humor, while the endless array of ghouls and goblins captured youngsters’ imaginations.
This isn’t nostalgia talking. Ghostbusters is a damn fine film and the ideal example of a Hollywood blockbuster—simplistic in its setup but flawless in its execution.
Here’s the plot: three down-on-their-luck scientists start a ghost-busting business in New York. Eventually, the paranormal activity threatens to destroy the world, leaving our boys with no choice but to bust some heads and save the day.
Simple.
The characters in Ghostbusters are easily distinguishable, each defined by a handful of key traits. Peter (portrayed by Murray) embodies the cynic driven by the pursuit of fame, fortune, and romance. Ray (played by Aykroyd) exudes an enthusiastic, somewhat naive persona, overflowing with ideas yet struggling to organize them. Egon (portrayed by Ramis) stands as the intellectual powerhouse of the group, supplying the essential data needed to turn aspirations into reality. Later additions like Winston (Ernie Hudson) and Janine (Annie Potts) further reinforce the theme of blue-collar workers joining the ranks. Even Sigourney Weaver and Rick Moranis’ characters are portrayed as everyday individuals striving to make a living in the Big Apple—she’s an aspiring musician, he’s an accountant who throws parties for his clients.
Each character plays a key part in the story and never crosses lanes into another’s territory. Everyone knows their role.
Ultimately, the film serves as a showcase for Murray’s incredible comedic talents. Credit to Aykroyd, Ramis, and Hudson for recognizing their star and having the wherewithal to step back and let him cook. Murray runs away with the picture, but his supporting cast aids in their unique way.
Watching these characters interact is mostly what makes Ghostbusters so much fun. Sure, the spooks, spectra, and ghosts are eye-popping, and the set pieces thrilling, but Ghostbusters works best when it focuses on our motley team’s effortless chemistry and hilarious banter. Case in point: the elevator bit where Peter, Ray, and Egon discuss their incredibly dangerous proton packs:
No one does anything showy; it’s all subtle character work, but that’s what makes the scene so damned funny. Ditto with the mayor scene:
And a bit where they interact with fans before heading up an apartment building to face Gozer:
Again, no one steps out of character in these moments. Peter effectively takes center stage, perhaps too addicted to fame to understand the danger awaiting him, while the others slip on their packs and go to work.
Furthermore, director Ivan Reitman skillfully avoids letting the Ghostbusters morph into superheroes. After the adoring crowds send them off to battle, Reitman cleverly cuts to this bit, reminding us that the Ghostbusters are A) normal fellas and B) in way over their heads:
As for the snazzy grand finale, Reitman maintains focus on our heroes. The scene revolves around dialogue and quirky character moments rather than action and suspense. Even when a greater threat arrives, Reitman underscores the terror with one of the single greatest visual gags in movie history—the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man:
Ultimately, every element in Ghostbusters coalesces to form a unique whole. Plot threads serve the main story rather than detract from it, special effects add visual punch, and characters remain front and center no matter how many ghosts occupy the screen.
As stated, everyone understood the job and produced an all-timer.
Frozen Empire
By contrast, Frozen Empire’s central character, Phoebe Spengler (McKenna Grace), gets lost amidst an enormous cast all vying for supremacy when they’re not trapped under heaps of expensive visual effects. Five-story threads run through Frozen Empire and no clear A or B plot.
Phoebe’s interaction with Emily Alyn Lind’s mourning spirit takes up a hefty amount of screentime but also vanishes for lengthy periods. Trevor (Finn Wolfhard) spends his brief time on screen trying to capture Slimer, a plot point that goes absolutely nowhere; Paul Rudd and Carrie Coon disappear for much of the middle act and add little to the story; Ray and Podcast (Logan Kim) investigate the origins of a mysterious round device housing an evil spirit connected to Kumail Ali Nanjiani’s bumbling Nadeem; and Winston assembles an all-new headquarters dedicated to research and development, featuring a scientist played by James Acaster and Celeste O’Connor’s Lucky, for some reason.
Janine, Peter, and Walter Peck (William Atherton) make appearances to boost ticket sales, yet neither of them is particularly enthusiastic about being there.
My guess is that the producers saw Stranger Things and told writers Jason Reitman and Gil Kenan to follow the same formula, i.e., a host of characters go on separate adventures that link together for a thrilling third act, except where Stranger Things spreads its story across 8-to ten episodes, Frozen Empire must squeeze everything into a two-hour runtime. And yes, the results are clunky, convoluted, and unsatisfying.
Incredibly, in Afterlife, Jason Reitman established the perfect setup for Frozen Empire to follow. Sony had a couple of paths to choose from: follow the Spenglers or focus on the youngsters. The first option would narrow its focus on Egon’s family as they attempt to revitalize the Ghostbusters business under Winston’s steady hand. The latter would follow Phoebe, Trevor, Podcast, and Lucky as they chase ghosts around New York to prove themselves, while Callie, Mr. Grooberson, Ray, and Winston offer help from the sidelines. Either choice would capture the spirit of Ivan Reitman’s Ghostbusters, as the focus would be on a small group of plucky underdogs rather than an army of characters auditioning for their spinoff.
That brings us to another larger issue:
The Franchise Problem
Hollywood has an enormous problem on its hands: too much content. Big-budget TV killed movies, and streaming is killing TV. Creatives are spread too thin, and their jobs are far more complex today than 30 years ago. When James Cameron wrote The Terminator and Aliens, he wasn’t burdened with setting up future sequels or world-building. He focused his creative juices on producing the best film imaginable and moved on to the next project—ditto with Steven Spielberg, who made Jaws and Jurassic Park as standalone pictures. Oh sure, he left room for more, but in 1993, nobody walked out of Jurassic Park expecting six sequels and a spinoff animated series.
Since Marvel took over the box office, every studio wants a cinematic universe that will generate endless cash. Each picture is chock full of characters and ideas designed to produce more content. So, rather than one great film, we get 20 mediocre sequels directed by lower-tier talent.
Looking back, most of the great pictures of the 1980s worked because they were not seen as launching points for never-ending franchises. Directors and writers poured everything they had into each film, leaving little room or need for more.
While it’s possible that James Cameron discussed ideas for Alien 3 with the cast and crew of Aliens and may have subtly planted seeds for future exploration, he ultimately poured his heart and soul into the project. The result was one of the greatest action pictures in movie history, a testament to Cameron’s dedication and vision. Ditto with Paul Verhoeven’s RoboCop, Robert Zemeckis’ Back to the Future, George Miller’s Mad Max, John McTiernan’s Die Hard, and Richard Donner’s Lethal Weapon, all of which work perfectly fine as standalone features.
The point is that Hollywood needs to go back to making one-offs. Hire a director and give them the freedom to go bonkers. Should the picture prove successful and lead to future installments, great! So long as each entry receives the same amount of effort and care as the original.
A worthy Ghostbusters sequel undoubtedly exists somewhere in the ether, patiently awaiting the right team to breathe life into it. While the 1984 classic remains unparalleled, reproducing its magic isn’t insurmountable. It simply requires meticulous attention to detail, a quality sadly lacking in Hollywood’s current relentless pursuit of quantity over quality.
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