Despite its apparent lack of narrative complexity, it’s difficult to properly classify Yong-ki Jeong’s The Ghost Station. Is it a throwback/homage to the J-horror masterpieces of the late nineties/early aughts (e.g., Ring, Ju-On: The Grudge)—or a shameless, shallow rip-off thereof? In any case, it’s undeniably formulaic; familiar, tried-and-true tropes and clichés that may have been perfectly functional in the source material (the film is an adaptation of a webcomic) simply feel derivative in a movie. This story has been told in this medium before. Dozens of times.
Two decades ago.
And Ghost Station adds precious little to the conversation.
The style is equally uninspired; indeed, I would characterize the direction as “haphazard.” I appreciate a good split diopter shot as much as the next pretentious cinephile, but here, the technique is implemented with such reckless abandon (and always utilizing the same basic framing/composition—at least Brian De Palma understood the value of variety) that the appeal wears off rather quickly. The visuals are otherwise serviceable at best, falling into the all-too-common trap of mistaking rapid cuts and abrupt jump scares for atmosphere and suspense.
And yet… there’s just barely enough thematic substance lurking beneath the surface of the (ankle-deep) plot to almost redeem the experience. The protagonist, an aspiring journalist forced to “make her bones” by writing for a sleazy online tabloid, is particularly compelling; while she’s obviously flawed—she is absolutely relentless in her pursuit of a juicy scoop, often at the expense of her fellow man—she has genuinely sympathetic motivations, allowing her to remain endearing even as she veers into morally ambiguous territory. Her internal conflict elevates the drama, touching on such relevant social issues as the predominance of sensationalism in the corporate news cycle, the dehumanizing exploitation of consumer culture, and the gradual erosion of privacy in the Internet Age.
None of this makes Ghost Station “good” in the conventional sense, of course; ultimately, it’s still superficial, disposable, and utterly forgettable—I believe the kids these days would describe it as “mid.” Nevertheless, it's entertaining in its own bland, generic, inoffensive way (its problematic depiction of gender nonconformity notwithstanding).
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