I’m far too young to remember when Eddie Murphy was the biggest star in the world. But even just reading into the history it’s pretty remarkable, the story of this wonder-kid comedian who landed SNL at nineteen, revitalized the program before skyrocketing in popularity off of his legendary stand-up routines and co-starring roles in movies like 48 Hrs and Trading Places. He even had a not so fondly remembered pop music hit, “Party All the Time” –and all while he was still in his early twenties. And one of the formative points of that biography was in 1984 when Murphy made his solo-starring movie debut with Beverly Hills Cop –which quickly became the highest-grossing movie of that year and cemented Murphy’s superstar status for the rest of that decade.
It’s not hard to glean why, even as the movie, directed by Martin Brest, doesn’t feel particularly smart or innovative as a buddy action movie on its own merits. Murphy’s power of personality is extremely charismatic and the movie is so filled to the brim of it that it works as an excellent showcase of both the appeal of his humour and his cool. It is very much the ideal movie for him at that time, and remains an 80s comedy touchstone for that reason alone. Beyond that though, Beverly Hills Cop is… well it’s fine.
It’s funny that I’m watching this movie for the first time so soon after I saw The Long Goodbye because the two have a strikingly similar plot. A close friend of the lead detective resurfaces in his life for the first time in years just before being murdered for mysterious reasons, leading to the friend going on an independent investigation into his death, crossing into territory of elite crime and conspiracy. Beverly Hills Cop just happens to be more funny while less technically proficient.
Yeah, there is a little more to it, but most of that character comes courtesy of Murphy –to the point I’m shocked the movie was originally written without him in mind. Seemingly it was just another cop movie with a fairly basic premise, yet that didn’t prevent Mickey Rourke from at one point being attached, with both Scorsese and David Cronenberg considered for director. Eventually Sylvester Stallone got involved, rewrote it as a straight action flick, before pulling out and turning the idea into 1986’s Cobra. Murphy was cast just weeks before shooting and the script was hastily rewritten around his personality –and I’ll say this for the script by Daniel Petrie Jr., whatever other flaws it may have it does not feel like a rush job. Murphy’s material seems perfectly integrated and the character of Axel Foley suits him to a tee.
If you don’t know the story, Foley begins the movie in Detroit, a characteristic unorthodox but intelligent young cop seemingly always in trouble with his commissioner. His childhood friend Mickey (James Russo), who incidentally took the rap and served time for an auto theft the pair had committed together, shows up visiting from Beverly Hills with illegal bearer bonds -and these are what get him killed that very night coming home from a bar. Finding no help from authorities locally, Foley chooses to investigate the murder himself covertly under the guise of vacation time to California. There he reunites with another old friend Jenny (Lisa Eilbacher), runs afoul of the wealthy art dealer who is his prime suspect, and gets involved with the Beverly Hills police unit and in particular a pair of mismatched cops assigned to his tail.
Written out like that the movie sounds fairly boiler-plate for a cop movie, and the plotting very much is so. But in the margins of all of it is Murphy’s distinct comic character -and I mean distinct in more than just Murphy’s particular brand of humour (and in fact to that it’s not wholly representative of his comedy style, otherwise it would be an NC-17 movie). Axel Foley is pretty much the only character who exists in a comedy movie. With the exception of maybe Judge Reinhold’s naïve young Detective Rosewood, everybody else is playing it straight while Foley alone makes the quips and responds irreverently to most situations. It’s an effective way of drawing a line in the sand between him and the people he deals with -most of whom are of course white; it clues you in to the subtle intents of this fish-out-of-water narrative, Foley being about the only character in Beverly Hills who’s not stiff. And it gives him an air of control and confidence that is never stifled. Axel Foley is not the kind of character you look to for a satisfactory arc -because he has none- but he does have mountains of charm to do the job as well. Murphy was so young when he played this part, yet he carries it with the utmost mature assuredness.
And yes, that extends to the scenes where he puts on an exaggerated affect or character to get close to someone or infiltrate a space -because there is still an underlying smoothness to it compared to the comedy stars of the following decade. ‘Cool’ is a top priority for this film’s showcase of Murphy -his wisecracks are pointed and clever, his determination is admirable, and even his relationship to his fellow cops is designed in a way to evoke respectability while still positioning him in the stronger light. His actions thwarting the robbery in the strip club is a prime example, with Sergeant Taggart (John Ashton) lending a noble assist. Obviously there’s an element of good old fashioned ‘copaganda’ to all this, but the movie at least takes that with a certain awareness. One scene that has aged incredibly and is one of the film’s rare moments of commentary is when Foley is thrown through the glass window of bad guy Victor Maitland (Steven Birkoff) and is immediately arrested by police for breaking and entering, despite clearly not having done that. The racial profiling is ultimately brushed over thanks in part to Ronny Cox’s surprisingly considerate lieutenant, but it is there and it makes a statement. It also gives Foley an extra edge in his defiance. Additionally contributing immensely to this stylish mood of the character is a particular musical theme called “Axel F” that follows him around, devised and performed by the film’s composer Harold Faltermeyer and which is one of the coolest pieces of music ever made. Credit due to Eddie Murphy, but just about anyone could seem badass with that playing under them. Well, except maybe Judge Reinhold.
The stuff with Reinhold and Ashton is fascinating because it makes clear one of the movie’s central internal conflicts. Beverly Hills Cop is clearly trying to be both an Eddie Murphy solo vehicle and a traditional ‘buddy’ cop genre flick, and I think it would have been better had it picked one or the other. The movie doesn’t feel entirely cohesive where it starts with Foley’s investigation, Jenny being enough of a foil for him, only to eventually pair him with the cops that have been tailing him. The script is not prepared to commit to the buddy dynamic of things, as though it were forced on them by the studio, and so it often feels like an afterthought. And even though the strip club sequence is great and both Reinhold and Ashton do alright next to Murphy, it never feels very organic. In fact, the notion of Axel Foley getting along with these guys, as well as Cox’s Lieutenant Bogomil in the end really comes off as a textbook case of copaganda –it’s important that Foley not be too much of a rebel, can respect authority, and work within that system, as he demonstrates multiple times in relation to these officers.
Nothing about the story ever throws you for a loop, even as it grows in scope beyond simply a search for Mickey’s killers –the actual guy who shot him, Maitland’s chief goon, I was delighted to see was Jonathan Banks. He and Foley have a few altercations through the movie, each with progressively higher stakes –I found myself wishing young Mike Ehrmantraut here had been the real villain, instead of Maitland the bland archetype. Indeed, the lack of any real threat coming from the antagonists, even in the climax, is another weakness of the film that leaves it even more singularly reliant on Murphy’s charisma. Compared to other cop movies from this era that take themselves even modestly seriously, like Lethal Weapon, the difference is stark.
Eddie Murphy is a fun presence, but he alone can’t save Beverly Hills Cop through its weaker moments. He doesn’t even sell Axel Foley as a real character rather than an extension of himself, funny though he may be, and the only interest I have in seeing him again is the knowledge that Beverly Hills Cop II bears the directing acumen of Tony Scott. Yet in spite of its mediocrities, the movie is still a good time and is a perfect encapsulation of Murphy’s star identity by that point in his already insanely successful career. It’s a bonus to note that except for perhaps one casually homophobic caricature he puts on (to imply out of spite that Maitland has AIDS), the film’s humour holds up relatively well. It’s worth a watch if you’re curious about that era and Murphy’s star status –though I don’t know that it would be so fondly remembered apart from that.
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