Are the critics crazy? - Ghostbusters Reviews

I expected a crowded theater and a rollicking good time. Instead, I found four other people in the theater who, like me, sat stonefaced as this monumentally unfunny movie plodded along until its conclusion. When the credits finally, mercifully began rolling, I looked around and discovered that I was the only person who had stuck the movie out to the bitter end. It is apparent to any sentient viewer that Bill Murray finds himself extraordinarily clever, witty, and amusing. "The Life Aquatic" and, now, "Ghostbusters" prove conclusively that he should be virtually alone in that generous assessment of his comedic prowess. Line after line and stupid facial expression after stupid facial expression fell with huge, dull, thuds in the theater. Bill is particularly unamusing and unbelievable when trying crudely to seduce women on the silver screen. Apparently, the producer thought that watching two fools (Bill and Dan) accompanied by a geek and a Bible-quoting African-American--all, for some reason, puffing away on cigarettes--stagger awkwardly through a lame story line could hold an audience's interest for over an hour and a half. Critics' reviews hold a perverse fascination for me. They actually liked this piece of garbage. On the other hand, they regularly put down movies that most average Americans thoroughly enjoy. They are so out of touch with the audience for whom they write that their opinions are less valuable than the paper on which they're printed.