As a child of the ‘80s, I can firmly say there were five rock stars: Michael Jackson, Prince, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, and Eddie Murphy. That’s how big a deal Eddie Murphy was during the Greed Decade. He was a rock star. The first comedian/actor (and even an occasional musician) of his kind. He was also Black.
The best portions of Netflix’s Eddie Murphy documentary Being Eddie deal with the notion of what it was to be the first worldwide Black multimedia superstar in nothing less than the history of the world. At a remarkably young age (Murphy was just 19 when he joined Saturday Night Live’s cast) and in incredibly short order, Murphy took over the world through standup, television, film, and even music (scoring a #2 hit single on the Billboard pop charts with Party all the Time).
Being Eddie tracks Murphy’s broken home, working-class background, and singular desire to be famous. Murphy was an absolute rocket nearly as soon as he hit the SNL stage. Not long after becoming a live television phenom, Murphy followed up with a one-two cinematic punch for the ages: 48 Hours and Trading Places.
Dave Chappelle is on point when discussing the bar scene in 48 Hours. No one had ever seen a Black actor on screen walk into a white establishment, flex his muscles, break bottles, and intimidate a room full of racist rednecks. It was staggering. No one had ever seen such a thing. Even Sidney Poitier’s slap of an old white racist in In the Heat of the Night did not quite match up. Sydney dominated one hostile man. Murphy dominated an entire hostile room.
Trading Places is one of the sharpest racial and class-based satires of its era, and still holds up today. John Landis reveals in Being Eddie that the film was originally intended to be a vehicle for Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder before Pryor set himself alight while freebasing.
One of the flaws of Being Eddie is its slight runtime. At just 86 minutes, there is little time to deep dive into individual films or moments that had a significant impact on Murphy. The film ends so suddenly that it’s impossible not to wish for an immediate part two. Being Eddie should have been a series, not a film.
That brevity, at times, makes Being Eddie feel like too much of a highlight reel. There’s also a sense that the film (directed by Angus Wall) seeks to protect its subject. All of the guests who sat for the film are complimentary of Murphy, nearly to a fault. Chappelle, Chris Rock, Jerry Seinfeld, and critic Elvis Mitchell offer some quality critiques of Murphy’s work and significance, but there is practically no assessment of Murphy’s artistic failures.
There’s also no coverage of any controversy in Murphy’s career. Murphy’s third film, Best Defense, was a colossal bust. Starring Dudley Moore, with Murphy in only a few minutes of the film, the studio put Murphy on the poster as if he were a co-star rather than a bit player. The film’s promotion was inherently dishonest. So much so that Murphy took offense and actively appeared on talk shows to discourage viewers from seeing the movie. In his return as host on SNL, Murphy disparaged the film in his monologue. There’s an interesting story there, but you learn nothing more about it here.
Murphy had an uneasy relationship with his idol, Richard Pryor, during the filming of Harlem Nights, which is not mentioned. He also feuded with the director of Trading Places/Coming to America, John Landis. Landis appears on camera in Being Eddie, but their tiff and reconciliation are given no airtime.
As brilliant as Murphy’s two stand-up specials were (Delirious and Raw) in terms of comedic delivery, the modern criticisms of the misogyny and homophobia in both specials are not addressed at all. Obviously, the ‘80s were a very different time, and what was normal and acceptable then is no longer palatable now. It is a missed opportunity not to give Murphy a chance to speak to those concerns.
I also found it surprising that his series of family films, including Dr. Doolittle and Daddy Day Care, received no critical assessment in the documentary. While those films were financially successful, they did little to burnish Murphy’s comedic film legacy.
There’s also a fair amount of time spent on his current marriage and his ten children, but his first marriage, which ended in divorce, is passed over quickly.
At the same time, there’s a lot to enjoy in Being Eddie. Watching clips of Murphy perform multiple roles in Coming to America, The Nutty Professor, and Bowfinger will bring smiles and guffaws to both the initiated and unfamiliar. The stand-up clips showcase a staggering level of skill and stage ownership. The portion of the film covering Dreamgirls points out Murphy’s extraordinary range when he’s willing to test himself.
There are multiple questions about Murphy and what the final portion of his career might look like. There are tantalizing hints that he may return to stand-up, but it seems just as likely that he may have dropped the mic for the last time after Raw was released. Murphy has become something of a mini-recluse. A man perfectly comfortable sitting on his couch in his sprawling mansion, spending time with his family. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Murphy has given the world plenty of entertainment for us to go back to.
It’s just that it’s clear that, even in moments most casual, he still has “it.” As Murphy himself says, he “got off the couch” to make Dolemite is My Name just to prove he could still do it. Dolemite is My Name is one of Murphy’s very best films, and maybe even his best performance. Since Dolemite’s release, Murphy has embraced nostalgia with sequels to Coming to America and Beverly Hills Cop, and appeared in You People, Candy Cane Lane, and The Pickup. The latter three original films proved to be far beneath his abilities. Murphy states that the next film he intends to make will feature him playing P-Funk legend George Clinton. The mouth practically waters in anticipation.
Murphy is unlikely to scale the heights he cleared at the beginning of his career. He was a one-man zeitgeist, and few artists get to catch another. Murphy’s ego is still healthy, if soft-spoken. Mid-film, Murphy states that he opened the doors for Denzel Washington, Morgan Freeman, Spike Lee, and Samuel L. Jackson. It’s a sizable statement, but it’s a hard one to argue with. Early in the film, Arsenio Hall illuminates a painfully salient perspective. When Murphy came along, he was often pitted against Richard Pryor by the media. Something that never happens to white comics or white actors. Why? Before Murphy, there was only room for one mainstream Black actor/comedian at a time. After Murphy, that ceased to be so.
What’s not clear about today’s Eddie Murphy is whether he has the ambition or desire to aim for the highest level of his profession anymore. At least not on a regular basis. Murphy starring in a George Clinton biopic suggests that might not be the case, but watching Being Eddie, you don’t get the sense that Murphy has that sort of consistent drive anymore. On the other hand, if every few years he drops a Dolemite is My Name on us, that will be worth plenty. And if not, well, he already gave plenty at the office.
Being Eddie may not be a transcendent documentary on a legendary talent, but it does remind us of that transcendence. That will have to do, and maybe that’s enough.
