The Lost King of Comedy: Eddie Murphy in Coming to America

John Landis's Coming to America was released in 1988 at the height of Eddie Murphy's career. It found itself sandwiched in between the inevitable success of Beverly Hills Cop II and the disaster of Eddie's directorial debut, Harlem Nights (this was his first and last trip behind the camera). Up until Coming to America, Eddie had played foul mouthed and aggressive characters, men who got what they wanted by being an incredible asshole. I'm certainly not knocking those early performances; at the time, they were what defined Eddie Murphy, and I'll be damned if he wasn't great at it.

While his movies were pretty well received in the beginning, by the time he hit The Golden Child (a picture I loved as a kid, but would be frightened to revisit now) and Cop II, his act was wearing thin with critics. So, it almost seems like Coming to America emerged out of nowhere; here was Eddie Murphy as a sweet and innocent character, a man who just wanted to find true love and did so without trying to intimidate anyone with his behavior. He does use some bad words in the picture, but the character he plays, Prince Akeem, repeats vulgarities that he hears and does not understand. It was a surprising change of pace, if anything because it showed that aside from being a talented comedian, he's a good actor too.

Eddie came up with the idea for Coming to America, and let's face it, there's nothing particularly great about it on paper. An African prince who does not want to be forced into an arranged marriage travels to America to choose his own bride. The hook, of course, is that he pretends to be common so she will fall in love with who he is, not what he is. This could have easily been a recipe for failure, but Eddie brought it to life by playing four (!) different roles and was able to surround himself with a terrific supporting cast. It's safe to say that ensemble comedies like this are hard to find these days.

To ensure the material would not be run-of-the-mill, Eddie brought in David Sheffield and Barry W. Blaustein, both of whom were writers during his days on "Saturday Night Live." And he was able to rope in John Landis, who had seen success with National Lampoon's Animal House (1978), The Blues Brothers (1980), and had directed Eddie in Trading Places (1983). I'll agree that the screenplay is good and so is the acting, but I do have an issue with giving too much credit to Landis. I've always had a strong feeling that he must be a really good people person; look at any one of his memorable comedies and you'll see that he has very little to do with why they work so well. As I watched Coming to America again, I noticed how simple his direction is. Landis has a knack for getting the right people, framing them competently, and then letting them do what they do best. All he really has to do is sit back and laugh when the joke is over.

As perfectly suited as the cast is, Eddie is the glue that holds it all together. There was a time when he had a clear focus and was able to get everyone else in on it. Watch what he does now and you'll find a man who's desperately trying to hold on to who he once was. I can't think of a single moment in Coming to America where he's not at the top of his game: confident, appealing, happy. Maybe that's what's missing most from his performances now; he's lost those three feelings and has replaced them with constant pressure to somehow stay in the limelight. There's no doubt in my mind that continuing to make family oriented movies is the simplest way for audiences to remember who he is.

The movie is interestingly a fair tale in reverse for the hero; he has to go from riches to rags to find his true love. The movie opens as if we've just gazed upon the first page of a storybook, with a sweeping shot over the mountains of the fictional African city of Zamunda. It ends on the castle of King Jaffe Joffer (a no nonsense James Earl Jones), whose son, Prince Akeem, is celebrating his 21st birthday. The tone is set right from the start as the picture pokes glorious fun at the ridiculousness of royalty. Akeem has servants to brush his teeth, wipe his backside, and even wash his "royal penis." And since he is royalty, there are rose bearers on hand to sprinkle petals in front of him as he walks.

Akeem does not like the tradition of having a spouse chosen for him. Why would he want to marry someone he does not know and more so, someone who will do nothing more than obey his every command? He sets up a forty day trip to America, believing that the best place to find his real bride will be in Queens, New York. Once he arrives, the movie turns into the classic fish-out-of-water story, as the sheltered Akeem is exposed for the first time to big city life. Wisely, Coming to America does not spend a lot of time showing Akeem struggling to adapt to a world he does not understand. He is soft natured and naive enough that he excepts everything on its own terms. There's hardly a moment when he's not smiling with wonderment.

The picture's weakest sequence is the obligatory auditioning sessions Akeem holds with the women he meets. I know we're supposed to throw caution to the wind here, but it gets a bit tedious when each candidate is more of a crackpot than the last (one claims to have been Joan of Arc in a former life). Of course, he does eventually find his prize in Lisa (the tremendous Shari Headley), and lucky for him, she is not attracted to riches, since Akeem's goal is to come off as lower class. Naturally, her boyfriend, Darryl (Eric La Salle) is a jerk. Like I mentioned earlier, we've seen it all more times than needed. The difference is that this time, the performances are on target and each scene is filled with one-of-a-kind supporting characters.

Easily the juiciest comic creations are the ones conjured up by Murphy and his co-star, Arsenio Hall, whose main role is as Akeem's servant, Semmi. The two have a blast in the now famous barber shop scenes, disguised by pounds of makeup as grouchy old men who fight all day about who's the best boxer. Every scene involving these guys is a riot, the best being when they attend a Black Awareness Week rally (one of them accidentally puts a chicken bone in the collection plate). Yes, these supporting characters remind a lot of the roles Murphy had played before; this time, however, it comes off as completely new since it is being played out of its usual context.

What amazes most about the picture is how well the supporting characters are drawn. Instead of being portrayed as one dimensional, they're each recognizably human. For instance, Cleo McDowell (John Amos), Lisa's father, owns a McDonald's knock off restaurant and is only concerned with his own success (observe how callously he treats his employees). Darryl is a model for Soul Glo, a horrifying product that gives curly hair some extra shine (he is a good counterpart for Cleo in that he thinks everyone else is beneath him). The best performance besides Murphy's is Arsenio Hall's. Semmi could easily be read as the thankless tag-a-long, but Hall crafts him into someone relentlessly stubborn (I love how he responds to Akeem's request to clean up their dumpy apartment). His crowing work, however, is in the form of a minister who never stops preaching. This alone makes me wonder how Hall did not have a substantial movie career.

None of it should work at all, and yet the effortless cast makes it happen. Holding it together, though, is Eddie Murphy; every time I looked at his eyes throughout the picture, I could tell he believed in what he was doing and because of that, everyone else had faith in the material, too. He was the real deal, and Coming to America is almost depressing, really, because it presented a hope that Eddie was going to steer his career in a new direction. Not to say he hasn't had a few excellent performances since then (The Nutty Professor, Bowfinger). Sadly, his work here was one of the last glimpses we'd get of a truly talented comedian and actor reminding us why we loved him in the first place. I sure miss that guy.


Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!


Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008