Jonny McCambridge: After 36 years I finally realise that Ghostbusters is terrible

The Sisyphean search for new forms of entertainment and diversion goes on.

Since I finished last week’s column I have not been idle. My son and I have invented a board game called ‘Don’t fall in your cereal!’ and created a dice game we call ‘Stop stealing me beans!!’ (for full effect, this title should be shouted while putting on a farmer’s accent).

So it comes as a relief to my stretched imagination when my wife suggests that we should watch a movie on a damp and grey weekday afternoon.

And I know exactly which film to select - Ghostbusters. I have been thinking a lot about the classic 1980s comedy ever since I saw my two nephews dressed up in grey Ghostbuster outfits which they had been bought for Halloween.

As usual there is a story to be told. I decide to pass on to my son my memories of seeing this film at the picture house when I was not much older than him. In the days before multiplexes, a visit to the cinema was a treat rarer than Christmas. In the whole of my adolescence I only remember going to the pictures twice, and one of those occasions was to see Ghostbusters in 1984.

But the significance is much more than that. To my juvenile mind the importance of seeing Ghostbusters came to represent much more than the sum of its parts. It was an event so novel that it was planned weeks in advance. I agonised at how slowly the days passed as I counted them down.

There was a sense of longing that I’m not sure that a child born in our culture in this millennium could understand. It was the longing of a child who was conditioned to having to wait for good things, whose standard expectation was that treats like this were vanishingly rare and had to be cherished.

So when the day arrived my family went to the old cinema in Portrush. I remember well the excitement of sinking into the soft red cushion on my chair, of the stickiness left on my fingers from the popcorn, the sense of an almost unbearable anticipation which gripped me as the lights were dimmed and the feature began. In a troubled childhood, it is one of the few recollections of pure domestic contentment that I have.

I have never watched Ghostbusters since, nor have I seen the sequel or the recent remake. It’s as if I am unwilling to do anything which may spoil the sheen on that precious memory from 36 years ago.

But now it is the time to share it with my son. Over and over I tell him how much he is going to love this, how this is something he will always remember. Eventually he pleads with me to stop talking and just put the film on.

Then, as a family, we watch Ghostbusters.

As the film progresses a troubling realisation soon begins to take root. At first I am unwilling to admit it, but eventually it becomes obvious, Ghostbusters is nowhere near as good as I remembered.

I don’t say this in the sense of an adult being sniffy about a kids’ movie. The truth is that I love children’s cinema and one of the best things about parenting is getting to view plenty of it. The Incredibles and Toy Story franchises are marvels which I never tire of watching. Standing totemic and alone as my all-time favourite movie is the Muppet Christmas Carol, with Michael Caine wonderful as the curmudgeonly Ebeneezer Scrooge.

Ghostbusters, by contrast, is a film which has aged badly as an attraction for children. For a start is the fact that most of the main characters wander around with cigarettes dangling from their lips for much of the picture, leading my bemused son to ask ‘What is that they have in their mouths daddy?’ This aspect I had not remembered.

One of the highlights I had encouraged my son to look out for was the scene in which a giant stone dog comes to life. When this occurs and the dog bounds angrily across the street, my boy is overcome with laughter, so hammy and inferior are the special effects. An image I had remembered as one of high cinematic artistry instead now looks like a reject from Tony Hart’s Morph series.

And then there is the embarrassing and overt 1980s sexism personified in the character of Dr Peter Venkman, played by Bill Murray. I felt deeply uncomfortable, sitting with my wife and son while watching him attempt to seduce a much younger student or nibbling on the neck of an unconscious Sigourney Weaver. Venkman is, by a long distance, the spookiest thing in the film.

The movie ends and there is an uncertain silence between the three of us.

‘Well, what did you think buddy?’ I enquire gently.

‘I liked the bit where the Ghostbuster got slimed, and the bit where they battled the giant marshmallow man was cool. But the rest of it wasn’t so good.’

I think his analysis is sound, and it only took me 36 years to figure it out.

I’m still a little bit dazed about how badly I had judged it, so I go upstairs to lie down. On top of the bed I open my laptop and begin to sketch out a few ideas for what will become this column.

I write about how disappointed I was by the film, how disappointed I am that I was not able to create a special memory for my son, in the same way that one was created for me all those years ago.

But then I’m interrupted by my boy entering the room and climbing on the bed beside me.

‘Are you working daddy?’

‘Nothing important, what’s up?’

‘Will you play with me?’

‘Of course I will buddy, what would you like to play?’

‘Can we play the board game we invented, then maybe the beans game? I just love playing them, I can’t wait to tell my friends in school about them.’

I put down the laptop, but not before I type one more sentence.

‘The memories will look after themselves. Just relax and enjoy it...and don’t try so hard.”

—— ——

A message from the Editor:

Thank you for reading this story on our website. While I have your attention, I also have an important request to make of you.

With the coronavirus lockdown having a major impact on many of our advertisers - and consequently the revenue we receive - we are more reliant than ever on you taking out a digital subscription.

Subscribe to newsletter.co.uk and enjoy unlimited access to the best Northern Ireland and UK news and information online and on our app. With a digital subscription, you can read more than 5 articles, see fewer ads, enjoy faster load times, and get access to exclusive newsletters and content. Visit https://www.newsletter.co.uk/subscriptions now to sign up.

Our journalism costs money and we rely on advertising, print and digital revenues to help to support them. By supporting us, we are able to support you in providing trusted, fact-checked content for this website.

Alistair Bushe

Editor