We Have a Ghost 2 takes the gentle charm of the first film and dares to wander into darker, more emotionally layered territory. What begins as a lighthearted continuation quickly reveals itself as a story about unfinished business—not just for ghosts, but for the living. The film understands that the scariest hauntings aren’t loud or violent; they’re the ones tied to memory, guilt, and secrets long ignored.
Anthony Mackie once again anchors the story as Kevin, now calmer and more grounded, yet clearly changed by his bond with Ernest. His performance carries a quiet warmth, portraying a man who has learned to live alongside the impossible. Mackie gives Kevin a lived-in authenticity, making the supernatural feel like an extension of family life rather than a disruption of it.
David Harbour’s Ernest remains the emotional soul of the film. Still mostly silent, still expressive in subtle ways, Ernest feels heavier this time—like a ghost who senses that his peace was borrowed, not earned. Harbour’s physical performance communicates sorrow, fear, and confusion without needing words, reminding us that ghosts don’t always haunt houses; sometimes they’re trapped inside their own pasts.
The introduction of Jennifer Lawrence as an unconventional psychic medium is a smart and refreshing choice. She brings sharp humor, chaotic energy, and unexpected vulnerability to the story. Rather than playing a stereotypical mystic, Lawrence’s character feels human and flawed—someone who sees too much and carries the weight of it. Her chemistry with Mackie adds both levity and emotional tension.
Tonally, the sequel strikes a more ambitious balance between comedy, family drama, and genuine supernatural unease. The humor never undercuts the stakes, and the scares are restrained but effective. Instead of jump scares, the film leans into atmosphere—cold hallways, distorted reflections, and moments where the absence of sound becomes unsettling.
What truly elevates We Have a Ghost 2 is its focus on history. As Kevin’s family digs deeper into Ernest’s origins, the film explores how trauma can echo across generations. The mystery isn’t just who Ernest was, but what was done to him—and why the truth was buried for so long.
The screenplay wisely connects the ghost’s unrest to moral consequences. Every revelation feels earned, and each discovery raises uncomfortable questions about responsibility and denial. The film suggests that ghosts linger not because they want to scare us, but because the world failed them when they were alive.
Visually, the sequel is more confident and cinematic. Muted color palettes, careful lighting, and deliberate pacing give the film a melancholic beauty. Even the paranormal moments feel intimate rather than explosive, reinforcing the idea that this is a story about emotional closure, not spectacle.
The family dynamics remain a strong core. The children are no longer passive observers; they actively engage with the mystery, reflecting how living with Ernest has reshaped their understanding of fear, empathy, and loss. Their growth gives the film a surprising emotional maturity.
As the story moves toward its final act, We Have a Ghost 2 becomes less about stopping chaos and more about confronting truth. The climax is thoughtful rather than loud, prioritizing emotional resolution over action. It’s a bold choice that pays off, leaving a lingering sense of sadness and peace intertwined.
In the end, We Have a Ghost 2 proves itself to be more than a sequel—it’s a reflection on memory, injustice, and the quiet ways love can cross the boundary between life and death. Funny, eerie, and unexpectedly profound, the film reminds us that even when a ghost seems to disappear, the past is never truly gone—it’s only waiting to be acknowledged.
