The story goes that Beverly Hills Cop was originally going to be a Sylvester Stallone vehicle. You can kind of see that, right? A tough Detroit cop must solve a case in ... BEVERLY HILLS! It's the kind of high-concept comedy that writes itself, but the thing is, typically it writes itself into something that sucks. A movie with lots of shots of Axel looking out of place in fancy hotels and galleries and country clubs. And those scenes are all still there, but when you remember the movie, it's not the premise that sticks with you; it's the performances.
Case in point? The scene where Eddie checks into the hotel where he has no reservation by pretending to be a Rolling Stone reporter. That is unadulterated Murphy schtick in its purest form. But the performance is not all histrionics and gesticulations. The funniest part comes when Eddie connives his way into a room, but is still stuck with a $235-a-night rate (and that's in 1984) that he can't afford. The silent scream in his eyes is funnier than any further haggling could have been. It's so effective that I remember worrying how he'd afford the room the whole movie and feeling a sigh of relief when the police department picks up the tab for him at the end of the film.
And look how well Eddie plays with others in this movie. Despite all the heavy lifting he does to inject humor, such as telling the chief that Taggart and Rosewood are "super-cops" or pretending to be bad guy Victor Maitland's STD-infected lover, he stands back to let other comedic gems shine. Bronson Pinchot has the role of his life doing his nondescript Eurotrash accent as Serge in the gallery, and Damon Wayans somehow makes selling bananas memorable. Everyone is funny in this movie. Paul Reiser as Jeffrey, John Ashton as Taggart and Judge Reinhold as Rosewood. All funny. Eddie has never been better as both a brute comic force and the straight man for others in one role.
SEXUAL Chocolate! Those two words are an expressway to victory for anyone who enters into a debate concerning the greatest Eddie Murphy movie of all time. Did Randy Watson and his band of soul show up in, say, The Golden Child or Delirious? Nope. Those fictional funk masters, fronted by a top-of-his-game Eddie Murphy, only surface in the universally beloved comedy juggernaut that is Coming to America, and it's the funniest bit in a movie that's made of approximately 103 percent funny.
It tells the story of a spoiled African prince hoping to find true love in America. As the African prince who heads to New York City in search of a wife whom he can respect for her intelligence and lack of gold-digging prowess, Murphy's performance was the Michael Jordan that turned his sidekick into a comedy Scottie Pippen. Remember Arsenio Hall? Sure you do. Now go watch Coming to America and you'll remember why (with all due respect to that talk show of his).
Eddie Murphy brought out the best in everyone in that cast. We're talking James Earl Jones as Murphy's overbearing father and Good Times dad John Amos as Cleo McDowell in performances that can only be described as dy-no-mite!! -- provided you literally have no other way to describe them.
Sure, Coming to America has its share of spandex fashion and Jheri curl jokes, but even 30 years later, this quintessential '80s movie stands the test of time.
