Main cast: Natasha Henstridge (Lieutenant Melanie Ballard), Ice Cube (James “Desolation” Williams), Jason Statham (Sergeant Jericho Butler), Pam Grier (Commander Helena Braddock), Clea DuVall (Officer Bashira Kincaid), Joanna Cassidy (Dr Arlene Whitlock), Liam Waite (Officer Michael Descanso), Wanda DeJesus (Akooshay), Duane Davis (Uno), Rodney A Grant (Tres), Lobo Sebastian (Dos), Robert Carradine (Rodale), Peter Jason (McSimms), Richard Cetrone (Big Daddy Mars), and Rosemary Forsyth (The Inquisitor)
Director: John Carpenter
John Carpenter’s name is so iconic that it often eclipses the stars in his movies. Let’s face it: ask someone who starred in The Thing (other than Kurt Russell, of course), and you’ll get crickets. Ask who directed The Thing, and the whole room will chant “John Carpenter!” It’s a testament to how much his name carries, and boy, does he lean on that goodwill with Ghosts of Mars.
This movie comes from Mr Carpenter’s later years, which, sadly, means it’s from the “meh” section of his filmography. This isn’t one of those “Hey, I just directed this thing, don’t blame me for the screenplay!” situations. Nope, he co-wrote the script, directed it, and even scored the music. Carpenter’s DNA is all over this movie, so if you don’t like it, there’s no pointing fingers elsewhere.
The plot—if you can call it that—features a galactic police squad in the late 22nd century tasked with transporting a prisoner, James “Desolation” Williams, from the remote Martian mining colony Shining Canyon to prison.
The story is told through flashbacks by Officer Melanie Ballard, who might as well have “Yes, I’m the Final Girl!” tattooed on her forehead. The rest of the red-shirt brigade consists of the unconvincing commanding officer Helena Braddock, sergeant Jericho Butler, and rookies Bashira Kincaid and Michael Descanso. Spoiler: If you’re watching this movie, you already know they’re all as doomed as leftover pizza in a college dorm.
Upon reaching Shining Canyon, our heroes find the place deserted, the locals either missing or dead in ways that scream serial killer art project. Suspicion initially falls on Desolation, but no—plot twist!—the real culprits are ancient Martian ghosts. Yes, you read that right. The miners unearthed an angry civilization of red-cloud spirits that possess people, turning them into extras from Mad Max: Fury Road with a DIY vibe. It’s like Mad Max, but with ghosts and even fewer brain cells.
The choice to tell this tale via flashback is baffling. From the outset, we know who lives, who dies, and that no surprises are coming. Combine this with sluggish pacing and tension-free storytelling, and you get a movie that feels less like a John Carpenter classic and more like a contractual obligation. You can almost hear the cast mentally ticking off the days until their paycheck clears.
Mr Carpenter later claimed he intended Ghosts of Mars to be a tongue-in-cheek action extravaganza, something like those Predator or Rambo movies. Here’s the problem: the movie forgot the tongue-in-cheek part. Instead, everyone plays it painfully straight, with only a few limp wisecracks to break the monotony. The result is a movie that feels neither serious nor silly enough to work on any level. Even the violence is oddly muted—like it’s trying to be edgy but forgot to sharpen its blade.
Then there’s the cast. Pam Grier’s Helena Braddock lasts about as long as a sneeze, which is probably for the best, since Ms Grier’s portrayal of a police officer is… let’s just say, less grizzled veteran and more mall cop with delusions of grandeur. Jason Statham and Natasha Henstridge do their best with paper-thin roles, while Ice Cube plays Ice Cube, as usual. (Honestly, is he just contractually obligated to scowl and shout in every movie?) But the characters are so one-dimensional you’ll forget their names by the end credits.
Ultimately, Ghosts of Mars is more of a snooze than a scream. Your mind will wander to better movies with similar setups. Remember Pitch Black? Yeah, go watch that instead. At least it had tension, memorable characters, and a plot that didn’t feel like it was written on a napkin during a lunch break.
John Carpenter, we love you, but this one’s going straight to Mars’ bargain bin.
