That’s Right, I Said “Boo”

With October nearly upon us, my thoughts inevitably turn to all things Halloween. I’ve resigned my fate to a month full of weekends visiting the holiday haunts. I’m also trying my best to reconcile those plans of mine to lose fifteen pounds, versus my expectations of eating fifteen pounds of chocolate over the next four weeks. There is still one element of the Halloween season that I continue to resist. For as long as I live, I don’t ever want to see another ghost movie.

Ghost movies are the most tedious form of cinema known in existence. I make this claim, mind you, even after having been forced to watch Bring it On, Shutter Island, Transformers, and Spider-Man 3 in theaters. What redeeming value is there to find in a movie genre that has only ever produced two unique plot lines?

Here are the two lessons I’ve learned from watching ghost movies: (1) All ghosts are pissed off because they died unjustly in a former life, which somehow entitles them to dick people around, and to visit similar forms of injustice onto their living victims; (2) If you encounter a ghost who isn’t pissed off enough to try and harm you, then you can look forward to weeks of spooky haunting activity during which time the spirit will provide you ambiguous, obtusely inarticulate messages indicating how they died.

Regardless of whether the plot line for a ghost movie falls under the first category or the second, you can always expect, without fail, to be treated to roughly ninety minutes of the same rehashed bullcrap. There’s a lot of quick camera pans, sudden orchestra jolts, and a good deal of screaming and sobbing. I hate all of it. It’s all just tired, classically adequate spook and scare devices. I blame it on the ghosts.

So here’s a message to all of you ghosts who just can’t leave well enough alone. First of all, to all you pissed off ghosts, who gave you the right to decide who lives and who dies? Aren’t you pissed off in the first place because some evil person (or people) prematurely snuffed out your life in a violent way? What gives with the hypocrisy? I hope that every innocent victim whom you’ve killed would become a ghost, and would band together to kick your ass in the limbo world. Second, to all of you lesser, passive aggressive ghosts who want nothing more than a favor from your objects of harassment, you are all the worst communicators who ever lived and died.

“Oh geez, the ghost wrote me a message on the fogged mirror while I was taking a shower. But what does it mean?”

Here’s an idea, ghost: Why don’t you try writing a complete freaking sentence so that we can all wrap this thing up an hour early? Come to think of it, if you do finally decide that you’re one of those pissed off ghosts after all, then try going for a quick and easy kill to save everybody a whole lot of grief and time. I’m tired of all the drawn out sadism and simulated pain.