GHOSTBUSTERS: FROZEN EMPIRE openingnight

new movies this week

PG-13, 115 minutes. Starts tonight at Mystic, Waterford, Westbrook, Lisbon, United Westerly.

It doesn’t feel good to beat up on a movie like “Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire,” which is a film with the right intentions: to entertain families looking for spectacle that will please both kids and their Gen X/millennial parents. It’s at least slightly better than its ghoulish predecessor, “Ghostbusters: Afterlife,” because at least there aren’t any holograms of deceased actors in this one, which is a relief. Still, there’s very little opportunity for critical examination of this sequel to the “lega-sequel” of the “Ghostbusters” franchise, which already has one failed reboot on its record. What else could one possibly say about “Ghostbusters” in general, and this perfectly fine, but incredibly dull installment specifically? It does exactly what it needs to do for die-hard fans and families seeking a night out at the movies. As a cultural industrial product, it’s emblematic of Hollywood’s obsession with reboots, nostalgia and IP, but that subject has already been talked to death and doesn’t bear repeating. Those arguments aren’t worth making again, especially when “Frozen Empire” is such an uninspiring example. In its favor, it does try to do something that is both familiar and expansive. The script is by Gil Kenan and Jason Reitman, the son of original “Ghostbusters” director Ivan Reitman, who passed in 2022 (the film is dedicated “For Ivan”). Though Jason Reitman helmed 2021’s “Afterlife,” Kenan (“Monster House,” “Poltergeist”) steps behind the camera here. It may be a new generation of Ghostbusters, but the family of the late Egon Spengler find themselves back in New York, in that firehouse headquarters, following “Afterlife’s” jaunt to Oklahoma. In fact, the whole crew finds themselves in New York, not just Callie (Carrie Coon), and her kids, Trevor (Finn Wolfhard) and Phoebe (McKenna Grace), but also Callie’s boyfriend Gary (Paul Rudd), who has joined the phantom-fighting family. Even the kids’ pals Podcast (Logan Kim) and Lucky (Celeste O’Connor) are also in

New York, interning with the original Ghostbusters, Ray Stanz (Dan Aykroyd) and Winston Zeddemore (Ernie Hudson). Yep, the gang’s all here, every last surviving Ghostbuster, including Peter Venkman (Bill Murray), and Annie Potts too, plus a few new characters to boot. — Katie Walsh, Tribune News Service

IMMACULATE

R, 89 minutes. Starts tonight at Waterford, Westbrook, Lisbon.

Blood-soaked and candlelit, Michael Mohan’s “Immaculate” disabuses the notion that any conception is ever without sin. Starring Sydney Sweeney (who also produced the film), this cheeky, freaky, lushly designed horror movie presents as a giallo nunsploitation riff, but the script, by Andrew Lobel, is much more “Rosemary’s Baby” than it is “The Devils.” Still, Mohan wants “Immaculate” to be an exploitation flick, and so it is an exploitation flick, which means he has adorned Lobel’s script in texture, atmosphere and viscera, taking the genre seriously while also applying an ironic wit. He skews toward modern horror filmmaking, but has the references and deep film knowledge to make “Immaculate” feel more like a long-lost video nasty dredged up out of an obscure archive. Sweeney stars as Sister Cecilia, a doe-eyed and docile devotee from Detroit who has traveled to Italy at the behest of a Father Tedeschi (Álvaro Morte) to take her vows at a secluded convent where she will care for elderly nuns. Soon, shockingly, she’s exhibiting pregnancy symptoms, her womb thrumming with a whooshing heartbeat under a sonogram machine. Her spontaneous conception is seen as a miracle, the resurrection of God. She has no choice but to carry this pregnancy to term, surrounded by jealous novitiates, senile nuns, controlling male leadership and a secret sect of the sisterhood who wear crimson shrouds over their faces. It’s something of a wonder to watch Sweeney as she undertakes Sister Cecilia’s journey, transforming from a meek naif into something unexpected and wild, her pious discipline falling away with every indignity. As this swift, 89-minute film builds to an absolutely feral climax, we do believe her, perhaps most of all in the film’s final, jaw-dropping moments, as she embodies a pure animal honesty.

— Katie Walsh, Tribune News Service