Remembering Ivan Reitman

One of the most influential comedy directors of my youth has passed.

Nearly 15 years ago, back when Juno was a major Oscar contender, I had the opportunity to interview the film’s director, Jason Reitman, while he was making the publicity rounds in Detroit. It was my first celebrity interview, and it was intimidating because I’d be interviewing both Reitman and the film’s screenwriter, Diablo Cody. 

I don’t remember much about the interview because I was terrified and stammered my way through it. I recall that both Reitman and Cody were kind and patient with an awkward twentysomething reporter for a weekly newspaper. I also remember that even though he was there promoting his own movie, Reitman was wearing a Ghostbusters T-shirt; notable, of course, because his father, Ivan Reitman, had directed the film. It was as if he were acknowledging that even though he was celebrated as the next big thing, he was aware of and celebrating his father’s cultural legacy (Jason Reitman would, of course, helm last year’s Ghostbusters Afterlife, which grossed a ton of money but still lived in the shadow of the original). 

It makes sense that Jason Reitman would have a fondness for Ghostbusters. After all, he grew up on the sets of the first two films and had a bit part in Ghostbusters II. But he was also a child of the 1980s, and there was no way to be an Eighties kid without at least being aware of the 1984 blockbuster, if not outright obsessed with it. 

But that film’s mega success, as well as the crater it left in popular culture, is just one of many films Ivan Reitman was involved with over the years to become a cultural touchstone. I don’t know how you could be a young movie fan in the 1980s and not consider Ivan Reitman to be a formative director. Reitman, who passed away Sunday at the age of 75, was behind several comedies that weren’t just financially successful, they were iconic, and they helped shape the face of screen comedy. 

Reitman’s most successful and notable works trafficked in the slobs-vs.-snobs conflict that fueled many comedies in the 1980s. He produced National Lampoon’s Animal House, arguably the definitive film of that subgenre, one year before directing Meatballs, a similarly themed family film set at a summer camp, and notable for being the first hint of Bill Murray’s comedic chops outside of Saturday Night Live. Meatballs was followed by Stripes, the first on-screen collaboration between Murray and Animal House co-writer Harold Ramis (Ramis had, of course, recently directed Murray in Caddyshack). I don’t think Stripes is a particularly great film — as many others have pointed out, it’s a solid comedy for its first hour before devolving into a completely different, less funny movie — but it established Reitman as a voice to be reckoned with. 

Ghostbusters changed everything. It was a bomb set off in pop culture, and it’s amazing how, despite a slew of middling sequels and remakes (including Ghostbusters II, also directed by Reitman), that first film continues to be part of the cultural conversation. There isn’t a Halloween that passes where Ray Parker Jr.’s song can’t be heard, and it’s telling that when Sony decided to reboot it again last year, they made sure that Reitman’s name was front and center, leaning on the fact that he was returning to the franchise as a producer and playing up the collaboration between him and Jason. So much of the film depends on repeating the iconography of the 1984 film as well; the stars might be the famous faces, but it’s Reitman’s work that the legacy sequel leaned on.  

Ghostbusters works so well because it’s the synthesis of two things Reitman excelled at. One is his ability to handle high concepts. Ghostbusters is a big-budget supernatural comedy that should not work. The massive effects sequences should squelch any of the spontaneity and energy of the comedy. And the laughs should, in theory, rob the special effects sequences of any tension, eeriness or scares. But Reitman grounds the entire film into that dependable slobs-vs-snobs formula, pitting his blue collar ghost exterminators against stuffy intellectuals and elite government workers, which allows the humor to mesh with the otherworldly effects. 

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But while Reitman might have been the kind of high-concept comedies, his biggest success came from how well he worked with actors. Meatballs, Stripes and Ghostbusters were released in the days when there was no bigger force for comedy than Saturday Night Live. Reitman harnessed the comedic qualities of some of the biggest stars of the era without the films collapsing under their weight. Again, Ghostbusters is the best example of this. Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis were some of the most formidable names in comedy, and their comedic personas couldn’t be more different. It’s Reitman’s guidance that allows those personalities to interact cohesively, bringing out the specific talents of each actor. Reitman ensures that the ensemble is never lost under the effects; indeed, their performances serve as a counter to the supernatural events, creating some of the film’s funniest moments. 

Reitman’s ability to exploit an actor’s comedic persona is best seen in how he helped Arnold Schwarzenegger transition from an action hero into a four-quadrant movie star. Growing up, I watched Twins and Kindergarten Cop almost as much as I watched Ghostbusters. Twins, in fact, was likely my introduction to Arnold, which is kind of baffling. I saw it well before I would have seen The Terminator or its sequel, and so the first time I saw Schwarzenegger in a movie, it was in a comedic role. It’s admirable how naturally he made that switch from hero to comedian; Reitman located the things that made Arnold such an intimidator in action movies and used them to create a lovable comic character for Twins. He then used children to serve as a foil for Schwarzenegger’s badass persona for Kindergarten Cop (there was a limit to what he could do, though; Junior is a mess). 

Reitman wasn’t infallible, and it’s possible his strengths ultimately turned against him . His attempts to deliver another high-concept blockbuster like Ghostbusters had mixed results. Ghostbusters II can’t quite capture the magic of the first film, and the less said of My Super Ex-Girlfriend and Evolution, the better. His attempts to continue working with megastars could also be hit and miss. The political romantic comedy Dave might be one of his best films, with fantastic performances from Kevin Kline, Sigourney Weaver and Charles Grodin. But the Billy Crystal/Robin Williams farce Father’s Day, which seems to be a slam-dunk on paper, is a shrill, tonally confused mess. His final film, 2014’s Draft Day is a likable sports comedy featuring a solid performance from Kevin Costner, proving that Reitman hadn’t lost his touch with actors. 

Perhaps just as influential as Reitman’s directorial work were the projects he served as producer on, which brought new faces behind and in front of the camera. I can’t quite forgive him for his role in unleashing Space Jam on the world, but he followed it up the next year by producing Private Parts, the Howard Stern comedy helmed by Betty Thomas, which went a long way toward changing the perception of Stern from just a shock-jock into a personality who knew how to use controversy to his advantage. Reitman executive produced Road Trip and Old School, which unleashed the era of the Frat Pack and also bolstered the career of (sigh) Academy Award nominated director Todd Phillips. While Sony boasted about the collaboration of Reitman and his son for Ghostbusters, the elder had actually served as a producer before for Jason’s Up in the Air, which remains a high point for the director as well as its star, George Clooney. 

In recent years, Reitman seemed to be on the cusp of a resurgence. As I mentioned, he was involved in much of the marketing for Ghostbusters Afterlife, and IMDB lists two projects in pre-production at the time of his death: Summer of Love a musical comedy starring Shawn Mendes, and Triplets, the long-rumored sequel to Twins, which was believed to reunite Schwarzenegger and Danny Devito and bring along either Eddie Murphy or Tracy Morgan. 

It’s impossible to talk about film comedy in the 1980s without talking about Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis, Robin Williams or even, oddly enough, Arnold Schwarzenegger. And it was Reitman who corralled these personalities and helped them best shine on the big screen. Reitman helmed films that were larger than life, and perfected the concept of high-concept comedy. And for those who felt like they just couldn’t catch a break, his work championed the underdog, embarrassed the proud and told us that every slob could have his day. He leaves behind a body of some of the most enjoyable films of the last few decades, and I hope a lot of people will have a laugh in his honor this week.