We Have a Ghost

There is something inherently funny about the idea of a ghost who looks like he just got kicked out of a 1970s bowling league. Usually, when we think of cinematic specters, we’re bracing for the stringy-haired girl from The Ring or the polished elegance of a Victorian lady. But in Christopher Landon’s We Have a Ghost, we get David Harbour in a bowling shirt with a thinning combover. He doesn’t speak; he just moans, groans, and looks perpetually confused about why he’s still inhabiting an attic.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor was power-washing their driveway for three hours straight, and honestly, the rhythmic drone of the water strangely complemented the film’s mid-tempo "streaming era" pacing. Released directly to Netflix in early 2023, the movie is a fascinating specimen of the current cinematic landscape: it’s high-concept, star-studded, and clearly designed to be "four movies in one" to satisfy as many quadrants of the algorithm as possible.

The TikTok Haunting

The story follows the Presley family, led by Anthony Mackie as Frank, a father desperate for a "win" after a string of failed business ventures. When his younger son Kevin (Jahi Di'Allo Winston) discovers a ghost in their new fixer-upper, Frank doesn’t call an exorcist—he calls his lawyer and starts a YouTube channel. This is where the film feels most "now." It captures that specific 2020s mania where every miracle or tragedy is immediately processed through the lens of "how many views will this get?"

Mackie is great here, playing a dad who is less concerned with the supernatural and more concerned with his subscriber count. It’s a cynical but honest look at the modern hustle. Contrast this with Kevin, the sensitive, music-loving teen who actually sees the ghost, whom he names Ernest, as a person rather than a paycheck. Their bond is the heart of the film, and it’s surprisingly sweet. Jahi Di'Allo Winston carries the emotional weight with a grounded performance that keeps the movie from drifting too far into slapstick territory.

A Soul Behind the Combover

The real heavy lifting, however, comes from David Harbour. It’s incredibly difficult to play a lead role without a single line of dialogue, but Harbour uses his physical presence—his expressive eyes and the slumped shoulders of a man who has forgotten his own history—to make Ernest more than just a CGI effect. He manages to be scary for exactly three minutes before becoming the most lovable thing on screen.

Director Christopher Landon, known for the Happy Death Day films and the body-swap horror Freaky (2020), is a master of blending genres. Here, he’s leaning into an "Amblin" vibe—think E.T. or The Goonies—but updated for a generation that knows how to use a tracking IP address. The film is at its best when it's playful. There’s a fantastic sequence involving a social media medium played by Jennifer Coolidge (White Lotus), who brings her signature chaotic energy to a ghost-hunting segment that goes hilariously wrong. Coolidge basically treats the paranormal like a bothersome fly at a cocktail party, and I wish she had twice the screen time.

The Netflix Bloat Factor

If there’s a haunt in this house, it’s the runtime. At 127 minutes, the movie suffers from the common "streaming bloat" where a tight 90-minute comedy-horror gets stretched into a sprawling epic. About midway through, the film shifts gears from a family dramedy into a high-stakes government conspiracy thriller involving the CIA and a scientist played by Tig Notaro.

While Notaro is always a welcome presence, the transition feels jarring. Suddenly, our cozy ghost story is a car-chase movie. The CIA subplot feels like the script got possessed by a Jason Bourne movie halfway through, and it loses some of the intimate charm established in the first hour. The CGI, while mostly solid, occasionally hits that "uncanny valley" territory during the more frantic action sequences, reminding you that this is a film designed for a TV screen rather than an IMAX theater.

Still, Landon manages to stick the landing with a climax that is genuinely moving. It’s a film that asks what it means to be forgotten and how the digital age preserves us in ways we might not want. It’s not quite a horror movie—there are a few jump scares, but nothing that will keep you up at night—and it’s not a straight comedy. It’s a "vibe" movie, perfect for a family night where nobody can agree on what to watch.

We Have a Ghost doesn't reinvent the genre, and it certainly won't replace Beetlejuice (1988) in the pantheon of afterlife comedies, but it’s a sincere, well-acted diversion. It captures the frantic energy of our social media age while still making room for a quiet story about a boy and his (bald, dead) best friend. If you can handle the slightly overstuffed second act, it's a journey worth taking, even if just to see David Harbour try to figure out how to walk through a wall.