Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; bustin’ makes me feel like a shower. At this point, you’re just asking for it. We’ve made our intentions clear: to rip on bad movies. As much as we abuse these movies, we do adore them. Our poisoned love may take the form of mockery, but when push comes to restraining order, we do right by it. As a paltry token of our “remorse,” we will offer a delightfully decadent snack food item themed to the film.
Much has been made of the on-again/off-again/why-the-hell-is-this-a-thing proposed third installment of the Ghostbusters franchise. Evidently the deep emotional trauma of Ghostbusters II has dissipated and the first real steps toward healing can begin. For the funnyatric stars of the original film, and inexplicably the sequel,the logical recourse, of course of course, is to take to the interwebspheres and relentlessly tease the possibility of ripping the wounds open again. Since they’re apparently letting anyone write pitches for Ghostbusters 3, judging by those we’ve seen, we thought we’d throw our hat in the ring; double shot beer helmet though it may be. But being particularly averse to original thought, as anyone who’s read this column with any frequency can attest, we opted to craft a Ghostbusters 3 screenplay by co-opting and reworking 1982’s The Entity so that GB3 fits inside.
The Entity is a film about a woman who is raped by a ghost, which, I believe is the exact opposite of being touched by an angel. The movie was produced because the filmmakers clearly believed that rape was not scary enough on its own. Barbara Hershey stars as the unfortunate woman best by the paranormally horny ghost. She enlists help from both doctors and the local university, but between the doubts and sideways glances, are several more attacks of increasing severity and affective ickiness. Suffice to say, something strange exists in this neighborhood…if “strange” is synonymous with “requiring of imminent therapy.”
So in our movie, the men of NYC’s Ghostbusters are called in to investigate. When they are briefed on the situation, Venkman makes an off-color remark about this ghost also being a slimer. Egon duly blushes. Winston quits. They load up the Ecto-1 with their proton packs and a pamphlet on Megan’s Law and head out to help sweet Hershey. When they arrive, Egon sweeps the house with his PKE meter, which, as Peter callously remarks, fittingly looks like a set of ovaries. Almost immediately, Barbara starts hovering above her bed. This reminds the guys of Dana Barret…until she is groped mid-air by the rape-arition.
I’ve heard of breast pumps, but this is ridiculous.
Do you mind, Ray? She’s being violently assaulted!
They try a proton blast, but it deflects off the ghost’s idiotic lightning force field and kills Rick Moranis…who no one had even noticed was there.
The swift surprise of these attacks is particularly hard to explain considering they are always heralded by pummeling bass beats and harsh, high-pitched scare notes that would have Alfred Hitchcock covering his ears and curling up into the fetal position; a neat trick considering his deadfulness. The guys figure that, even though the ghost is sending Casio-based rape-o-grams from the other side immediately prior to his attacks, the problem is response. Given the circumstances, the only rape whistle would be a Ouija board. Ray, frustrated and frightened, begins to recall his sex dream from the first film, the “ghost beej” as it has been so designated by film historians. He comes to the horrifying conclusion that perhaps that was no dream at all. Perhaps he too has been the victim of a similar gropergeist. At the ends of their respective ropes, the Ghostbusters call for backup. Apparently, only silver can defeat this ghost…Ron Silver.
Into the movie bursts this unwavering pillar of machismo and his luxuriant beard. For awhile, his roguish manner and gentle ’80s smugness puts him at odds with the far more analytic and handsome-free Egon. His initial approach isn’t steeped in paranormal science as it is criminal science; treating the whole scenario as an episode of Law & Order: Supernatural Victims Unit. But eventually they put their heads together and come up with plan that involves building an exact replica of Barbara Hershey’s house to lure the ghost and then trap it in a cocoon of liquid helium. They have to explain this plan to Barbara twice, as upon first utterance it sounded to
us her like the dumbest fucking idea in history.
The ploy is nonetheless successful, and the boys prove yet again that they indeed ain’t afraid of no ghosts. This apparently even applies to the ones who should by all rights be registered sex offenders; registered as such in the necronomicon. They succeed in transforming this feely phantasm into a gilded ghost turd, which they then find incredibly difficult to fit into the containment unit…or ghoster oven if you will…or won’t. Blah blah blah, Venkman makes another joke. Bobby Brown song. Credits.
We’re only asking $550m in budget, and most of that will go to Botox.
Junkfood Pairing: Ghost-Shaped Sugar Cookies
Callous? Heartless? Neither, delicious. True, the more obvious choice would have been Hershey Kisses, but I thought that was in tasty poor taste. Besides, not only are these humorously-shaped sugary confections my favorite Halloween treats, but they could also serve a useful function in the case of this movie. “Barbara, show me on the cookie where the ghost touched you.”