The Difference an Audience Can Make...

Rating: Null/10 (16 July 1999)

I saw this film on its first weekend in the UK, in Dec 1984. Of course, it had already been a huge hit in the US, and the waves of enthusiasm had been lapping at our shore for months; then there was that splendid theme tune which had been sat in the Top Twenty throughout late summer and the autumn, so by the time the pic finally arrived there was a tremendous amount of expectation.
That Saturday night there were hundreds of filmgoers in the centre of Cardiff, but all to see the one film (I can still remember the deafening silence that greeted the cinema manager's enquiry, shouted down the length of that great queue, "Is there ANYONE for 'Bachelor Party'?"). Lord knows how many were turned away, but those that made it in cheered as one when the lights dimmed. Moments later, we were cheering again, whooping our appreciation of the library ghost's horrifying transformation, and then we were singing - well, shouting really - along to the theme song, and this mood of festive celebration (it was Christmas, after all) was maintained throughout the next two hours, and it was one in which I joined as enthusiastically as anybody, despite a bladder which had been demanding urgent attention since even before the trailers had finished (and despite the slight disappointment of that giant doughman, which meant nothing to us in the UK), and long before the film's conclusion, I realised that I hadn't had so much fun on a cinema visit before, and nor have I had since.
And when it had ended, and we had filed back out into the winter night (some of us via the gents), with each of our group almost taking turns to ask the rest if they had enjoyed the movie as much as he had, we began the ritual of recalling favorite moments from the film. But something odd happened. "Remember that bit when...when..." When what? Hmm. Try again. "How about when he said...when he said..." Said what? Did what? Hmmmm.
Long before we'd reached home, we'd realised that the only highlights the film had were moments of spectacle, that there hadn't been any really good jokes, or plot twists, or weird little moments of invention; less than 30 minutes after leaving the cinema on that high, we'd realised that the movie had been thoroughly mediocre.
A paradox, surely: how could we have enjoyed it so if it was a poor film? Simple: the audience made it fun; we'd acted like our own warm-up act. We were there to enjoy ourselves and enjoy ourselves we did, all the film did was provide us with a few cues so we could keep the vibe up. I said it is the most fun I've ever had at the cinema, and so it is: it's the same sort of fun I've had on a fairground ride when there's a load of people all screaming in mock terror - wouldn't be as good if you were alone, and so it is with 'Ghostbusters'; I've seen it since on TV, and it passes the time if you've absolutely nothing else to do, otherwise...
Oh, and I saw the sequel in a cinema, but one that was nine-tenths empty. It didn't stand a chance.