Mixing romance with science fiction always seems to be a dodgy proposition of preposterousness. The emotionality of love is not something readily explained by science, unless some smarty pants cites neurotransmitters, adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin. The marketing and publicity push of “Passengers,” starring the hot ticket names of Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence, want you believe that you’re stepping into “Titanic in Space.” Hey now, come out of hyperdrive or drop out of warp speed (your choice, fellow geeks) and pump your space brakes! The only apt comparison between “Passengers” and “Titanic” is the metaphorical sinking.
Read MoreThe success of a remake, reboot, or sequel is contingent upon matching the tone of the original work to the best of its ability. If a film gets that tone right, it can be a drastic revision full of changes and updates and still feel respectfully aware and in tune with the previous well-remembered greatness the new film is trying to emulate. I stand by that rationale and now bring that gauge to “Ghostbusters” and the wave of misguided hatred that follows it. I say misguided because the overprotective nostalgia and/or sexist gender complaints are false sources of this film’s problems.
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