Ghost (1990)
It seems I don’t have much luck in trying to expand my horizons with the frown-inducing stuff. Convoluted Italian class struggles, suicidal Holocaust survivors, JFK obsessives, gloomy French Resistance fighters… This lot don’t exactly float my boat. Maybe I should stick with the likes of Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze and their fluffy schtick. After all, the Oscar-winning Ghost was the biggest hit of 1990 and a prime example of sentimental (but well-written) Hollywood entertainment. Not even Whoopi Goldberg can spoil this one.
Unusually for a banker, Sam (Swayze) is an all-round good guy. He’s also moving into a Manhattan loft with his sculptor girlfriend Molly (Moore). They’re so in love, so made for each other that they might as well be floating on air. Sam, however, is a worrywart. “I just don’t want the bubble to burst,” he tells her one night in bed. “It seems like whenever anything good in my life happens, I’m afraid I’m gonna lose it.”
Sure enough, an armed mugger bursts his bubble in a brilliant piece of misdirection. When the gun goes off, the mugger flees and Sam pursues, only to turn around and see himself being bloodily cradled in Demi’s arms, having been fatally shot. My God, it’s a superb sequence, although the big surprise with Ghost is that it’s not the only one.
Swayze and Moore are solid, well-matched leads, the former displaying believable bewilderment and perfect hair as he learns to walk through walls and leap between passing trains. Moore, doing her best to recover from the disastrous We’re No Angels, out-cutes any actress around when it comes to having a tear roll down her cheek. Then there’s their iconic pottery wheel scene in which an old-fashioned jukebox plays Unchained Melody while their sensuous fooling around results in a lump of clay being molded into a glistening, suspiciously cock-like creation.
Elsewhere, the gradual reveal of the villain is nicely done and the special effects mostly stand up. Instead of comic relief we get a nicotine-deprived, half-crazy subway ghost that doesn’t like to share territory (“Get off my train!”) Ghost’s surprisingly brutal touches, such as a car accident and a graphic windowsill impaling, offer a welcome balance to the lovey-dovey schmaltz. Indeed, it’s such an engrossing watch that by its end I found my chocolate ice-cream was a lukewarm bowl of liquid.
Shit, I think I’m going soft in my old age.
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