We Have a Ghost

The Ghost in the Algorithm

I’ll admit it: I went into We Have a Ghost expecting a lark, a disposable Netflix comedy with a few jump scares and a David Harbour-shaped ghost floating around. What I didn’t expect was how much it would linger—not because it’s profound, but because it’s so earnest (pun absolutely intended) in its attempt to blend the supernatural with the absurdity of modern life. This is a film that wants to be both a goofy family comedy and a meditation on how we perform our lives for an audience, even when that audience is just a bunch of strangers on the internet.

It doesn’t always pull it off, but when it does, it’s weirdly charming. Christopher Landon, the director behind Happy Death Day and its sequel, has a knack for genre-blending, and here he’s working with a premise that feels tailor-made for the TikTok era. A family moves into a new house, discovers a ghost named Ernest (Harbour), and suddenly finds themselves at the center of a viral sensation.

The ghost isn’t scary—he’s more like a lovable, slightly clueless uncle who can’t remember how he died. The real tension comes from the CIA, who see Ernest as a national security threat, and from the family’s own struggle to navigate their newfound fame. It’s Beetlejuice meets Black Mirror, if Black Mirror were written by someone who’d had one too many energy drinks.

Kevin, a teenager navigating the usual minefields of high school and family dynamics, finds an unlikely friend in the ghost, who’s just as lost in the modern world as Kevin is in his own life. Their bond feels organic, even when the plot veers into sillier territory. And Harbour, who’s best known for his role as the gruff but lovable Jim Hopper in Stranger Things, is delightfully un-Hopper-like here.

Ernest is a ghost with the physicality of a man who’s just woken up from a nap—all loose limbs and bewildered expressions. Harbour plays him with a childlike wonder that makes you root for him, even when he’s accidentally setting things on fire. But the film’s biggest gamble—and its most interesting failure—is its attempt to critique social media culture.

The idea that a ghost could become a viral sensation isn’t just a gimmick; it’s a commentary on how we package and consume even the most intimate parts of our lives. The family’s journey from obscurity to internet fame is played for laughs, but there’s an undercurrent of unease. The CIA’s interest in Ernest isn’t just a plot device; it’s a darkly comic reflection of how quickly the personal can become political, how easily a private moment can be weaponized.

The problem is that the film never quite commits to the satire. It wants to have its cake and eat it too—mocking the absurdity of viral fame while also indulging in it. The result is a tonal whiplash that leaves you unsure whether you’re supposed to be laughing with the family or at them.