As part of Hollywood's never-ending quest to avoid originality by dusting off old scripts, the wonderful folks who made Bridesmaids -- because: The Hangover -- are 'rebooting' Ghostbusters, but with women in the lead roles.
'Reboots,' as you may be aware, are what we used to call 'remakes' until our conquering computer overlords shoved their cyber-language down our throats, which is why you hear people using terms like 'life hacks,' which is TED-talk for 'shortcut' or 'that old way is stupid, try this, idiot.'
(Fun fact: if someone is describing improvements in their life and they used 'life-hack' in casual conversation, it is legal in most states to punch them in the throat to stop them from speaking. It is mandatory if they are are leading up to describing their most recent juice cleanse or their cross-fit training. Or ethics in gaming journalism. Then you can kick them in the nuts.)
The original Ghostbusters is from my time but I don't quite have the affinity for it that some do. That same era also produced Fletch and Caddyshack; providing generations of men with something to quote at each other in an effort to bond while at the same time keeping at bay the gayness that seethes and bubbles beneath the surface after one too many late night screenings of Jules and Jim.
I'm not a fan of reboots or remakes, since so many of them seem to come from a hot young director leveraging a recent smash success, telling a studio they can take a classic film and make it better. This strikes me as arrogant for someone whose most recent claim to fame is two hours of exploding robots, with an occasional quotable one-liner thrown in every twenty minutes to give the story depth.
Ghostbusters as a remake doesn't bother me much at all, when there is the ever-present threat that a studio may greenlight a Tim Burton 'reboot' of The Godfather with Johnny Depp as a 'quirky' Vito Corleone.
That way madness lies. (King Lear quote. High-five!)
Ghostbusters, like Caddyshack, occupies the part of the male brain that never grew older than twelve -- the rest of the brain is dedicated to thinking about boobs and, yes, there is quite an overlap -- and thus is a featured attraction at the Island of Lost Boys Who Still Think Fart Jokes Are Hilarious Cineplex. News of an all-ladyparts Ghostbusters has not been received well by the Feminism Is Ruining Everything crowd, who made their displeasure known on the Twitter; a safe and welcoming harbor for the crystal-figurine Laura Wingfield-like delicate constitutions of the lady-hatin' MRA-crowd and 'gamergate warriors'.
Great, Ghostbusters is fucked. With the people who wrote and directed Bridesmaids, I can't help but feel it's gunna be pandering shite. RIP— Wham Bam Thankya Mam (@Wham Bam Thankya Mam)1413123794.0
You can almost taste the salty tears of a world got menses-mad as an other cherished male memory is trampled to death beneath a Jimmy Choo Glitter Platform Slingback. (Available at Neiman Marcus).
I will leave it to the Lovely and Talented Jesse Berney, who blogs at Blue Nation Review, where you should read him religiously -- even if you are a godless atheist -- to get in the final word about how bad this is going to be for the men who hate women who hate men:
LOL, he wrote.