Weaver, Ernie Hudson, Rick Moranis, Annie Potts, and, erm, Slimer all reprised their roles. Murray poked fun at Weaver on set by calling her “double Academy Award nominee Sigourney Weaver” (she was up for both Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress in 1989). They were joined by a scene-stealing Peter MacNicol as Janosz, an Eastern European sex pest-turned-possessed Vigo minion (“You’re not gonna get a green card with that attitude, pal,” says Venkman) and Wilhelm von Homburg as Vigo himself. To get his comically thick accent right, MacNicol hung around a Romanian tourist agency.
Von Homburg was suitably sinister already. He was a German boxer and wrestler, and spent time in prison. His father, a reluctant Nazi soldier, claimed that young Wilhelm had raped his own stepmother. Von Homburg (also one of Alan Rickman’s Euro-terrorists in Die Hard) was less than pleased to learn that his Vigo performance had been overdubbed by Max von Sydow. He stormed out of the cinema after seeing the film.
The first Ghostbusters was a mix of monster elements, all trapped at once in the containment unit of blockbuster brilliance: the shabby union of Murray, Aykroyd and Ramis; the still-goosebumpy special effects; ideas that absolutely shouldn’t work but instantly entered the pop culture consciousness (a 100ft marshmallow demigod, anyone?); and – of course – the song.
Ghostbusters II, by contrast, is often accused of rehashing the formula, set-piece for set-piece. That’s hard to dispute. Most obviously, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man becomes the Statue of Liberty, which the Ghostbusters bring to life for a similar jaunt through the streets of New York City. Reitman later agreed that emulating the original film’s structure was a mistake.
But Ghostbusters II captures the spirit of its predecessor in the smaller details: offbeat character moments (Spengler having sexual relations with a tub of slime in the name of science); bone-dry sardonicism from Venkman; and lines that are so finely sharpened that they barely register on the PKE Meter. (“I’d like to run some gynaecological tests,” says Spengler about Dana. “Who wouldn’t?” replies Venkman.)
The Ghostbusters are now washed-up has-beens, bankrupted by the cost of blowing up a high-rise in the first movie. Ray is reduced to doing children’s parties, where even the kids are unimpressed and chant for He-Man instead. The most inspired idea is Venkman’s new career as a charlatan TV host on World of the Psychic – think Jeremy Kyle for bewildered believers in the supernatural. (“Next week, hairless pets… weird.”) One of the great understated gags is Venkman’s obvious disdain for his guests, but also his irritation upon learning that one viewer rates him below the fishing show, Bass Masters.
