The thing about Bill Murray movies is, they often don’t work without him. “Groundhog Day” would be a horrible Adam Sandler comedy if anyone but him played the part, and the same is true of “Ghostbusters.” Aside from all the ugly misogyny that’s being thrown at the movie sight unseen, no wonder everyone is freaking out over a remake of “Ghostbusters.”
If there’s so much controversy about whether women can play the Ghostbusters, it’s because even from its opening moments, Dr. Peter Venkman (Murray) channels a distinct brand of ’80s masculinity. He’s a smug playboy, a sarcastic goofball, an apathetic regular Joe, and yet he’s hilarious, confident, charming and likable. Take the opening scene after the credits, in which Venkman flirts with a cute student while tormenting another nerdy one with some electroshock therapy. Watch how he grins in a way that telegraphs to the camera he’s full of it but confounds his two test subjects.
Played by anyone else, Venkman would be a creep, a jerk, and an asshole, and not even remotely likable in the way Murray is. When he seduces Sigourney Weaver as she comes out of her rehearsal, you only wish you could be as confident as he makes himself to be. He rifles through Weaver’s fridge and casually drops a line about her eating bologna as though she wasn’t even there, as though he’s just moving to his own metronome and won’t let anything faze him.
Compared to the bookworms that are Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis, at least in this film, they need Murray to balance the load. Aykroyd and Ramis each get some perfectly quotable lines, but only Venkman could convey the ironic urgency in a line like, “Human sacrifice, dogs and cats, living together!” It’s as though everyone in the movie is a straight man or a cartoon character, but Venkman is the audience surrogate, the one who’s there to wink and smirk at the film’s cartoonish, campy special effects and ridiculous premise.
If Murray was the one to resist a “Ghostbusters” reboot or second sequel for so long, it’s because the second film by comparison amps up the paranormal voodoo, the special effects, the wacky action comedy set pieces, and even reduces Venkman to more of the straight man role next to the rest of them diving into rivers of slime and screaming at oncoming ghost trains.
What I enjoy about Ivan Reitman’s original is that it has a Spielbergian flight of fancy and whimsy. The opening scene in particular doesn’t hint at the movie’s comedic elements. The score instills a classical sense of mystery, the chasing camera setting a light, yet tense mood. “Ghostbusters” only has so many actual effects-driven set pieces, and leans far more heavily on the dialogue and character than the film, through its blockbuster proportions and endless cartoon spinoffs, has a reputation for.
I’m still not even sure “Ghostbusters” is any better than say “Stripes” or “Caddyshack,” the former of which Murray arguably plays the same character. But until they make an All-Female “Caddyshack,” “Ghostbusters” is the film that has reminded everyone of their ’80s nostalgia and brought out the trolls. And when it comes to this reboot, some of them may even have a point, but unfortunately they can’t all be as charming as Bill Murray.