Ghostbusters: Afterlife is literally two hours and four minutes of “Fuck you, Dad!”

A therapy-session breakthrough posing as a franchise reboot, Afterlife has director Jason Reitman using his dad Ivan’s most successful film series to work out some daddy issues. (He’s gone on the record saying he still has some feelings about his old man’s lack of parenting back in the day.) The movie’s so hellbent on stewing in its sins-of-the-father vibe, one character even spews out gawdawful dad jokes. Basically, if you’re a father taking the kids to see this, good luck enjoying it. Guys like you don’t come out of this looking so hot.

The dad-joke spewer is Phoebe (Mckenna Grace), an intelligent, possibly autistic – the movie doesn’t delve into that much – 12-year-old who moves to a small Oklahoma town with her mother (Carrie Coon) and big brother (Finn Wolfhard, who’s already been down this supernatural road with Stranger Things). Recently evicted from their home, they take up residence in the rickety farmhouse last occupied by her late grandfather, who we learn is former Ghostbuster Egon Spengler (once played by the late, great Harold Ramis — aka the J Dilla of comedy).

It turns out Egon spent his later years on a dirt farm, abandoning his daughter — Coon’s stressed-out mom seethes in resentment whenever she brings up dude — in order to keep certain otherworldly beings from taking over the world. Phoebe discovers this (with help from Egon, whose spirit still haunts the house) and takes it upon herself to complete the job, rounding up a crew that includes her summer-school teacher (Paul Rudd, working that nice-guy charisma that got him People’s Sexiest Man Alive) and a kid named Podcast (Logan Kim) who spends most of his time, of course, recording a podcast.

Truth be told, the kid-friendly Afterlife has more in common with E.T. and The Goonies than the shits-and-giggles, comedy/horror mashup Jason’s dad and his Second City pals came up with so long ago. Reitman and co-screenwriter Gil Kenan (practically a paranormal vet after directing Monster House and that Poltergeist remake) came up with a film that’s more like a throwback to the Amblin Entertainment films of the ‘80s. And that’s the most hilarious (or, should I say, the only hilarious) thing about Afterlife. It appears Reitman, Jr. goes about aesthetically emulating Steven Spielberg rather than his old man. I mean, if you are gonna make a movie that rails against dads, who better to bite from than the guy whose filmography is littered with flicks about fatherly fuck-ups? 

But Afterlife isn’t all about calling out Pops. Lil’ Reitman still has a rabid fandom to pander to, and he piles on the Easter eggs to keep all the diehards satisfied, right down to the appearances of tiny Stay-Puft marshmallow men in a scene that clearly looks like a reshoot so the movie could get a tie-in with Walmart. (Let’s not forget that Paul Feig and four funny ladies tried to do a similar Easter egg hunt when they did a Ghostbusters reboot a few years back — and testosterone-heavy fans were ready to kill them.) 

Reitman spends so much time pleasing the fans, you’ve probably figured out by now that the characters are hardly developed and the story is as thin as a Baked Lay’s chip — and just as dry and flavorless. He even rehashes the final act from the first movie. (Yes, people turn into gigantic, possessed dogs.) But this time, he turns it into a heavily sentimental, Spielbergian climax, complete with certain castmates from the original popping up to join in the world-saving. (Since they’ve been on talk shows promoting this, I’m not spoiling anything.) The truth of the matter is, you may find yourself anticipating their arrival, since they briefly bring some smart-ass irreverence to these mawkish, recycled proceedings and, for one brief, shining moment, make Ghostbusters: Afterlife just as funny as the original.

D

“Ghostbusters: Afterlife” is in theaters tomorrow.