The effervescent reincarnation of a romantic comedy sub-genre that’s been haunting silver screens ever since “Topper” (1937), David Koepp’s “Ghost Town” does its spectral predecessors proud. You know the deal. A cynic can suddenly see ghosts. He’d rather not. Making it worse, concomitant with said power he’s assigned a soul-saving mission.
Handling the drill this time, literally and figuratively, is Bertram Pincus, D.D.S., portrayed with perfectly defining lack of joie de vie by Ricky Gervais. The sourpuss, who quizzically left his native London for New York because “it was too crowded there,” is entirely bereft of people skills. Oh, that he could stuff cotton wads in the world’s mouth.
Acquiring his apparitional sense following seven minutes of momentary death during a routine colonoscopy, now the loner has to suffer not only the intrusions of the quick, but the dead as well. Leading the charge of this new contingent hell-bent on precluding his much sought isolation is Greg Kinnear’s Frank Herlihy, former pitchman personified.