Coming to America (1988): Eddie Murphy Takes a Royal Dump on Good Taste (And Somehow Gets Richer for It)

By the time Coming to America rolled around in 1988, Eddie Murphy had already conquered the world—or at least Hollywood’s paycheck machine—with 48 Hrs., Trading Places, and Beverly Hills Cop. He seemed unstoppable. So it must’ve sounded like gold-colored alchemy when someone whispered, “How about playing not one but seven characters, including a queen and a bartender in a sketch that feels stale already?”

What we got was a lavishly dressed dud: a fish-out-of-water tale where everything is smooth, glitzy, and sanitized—except the humor, which reeks of exhaustion. Murphy plays Prince Akeem, heir to Zamunda (a fictional African nation that looks suspiciously like New Jersey with palm trees), who flies to Queens, New York, in search of “real love” (not royal name-drop chicks). Along the way, we get jazzed-up sit-ins at McDowell’s (the McDonald’s knock-off), a barbershop sequence with disguised royalty, and a questionable romance that feels more mandatory than emotional.

It’s got pieces of charm—Murphy’s iconic accent, Arsenio Hall’s Campbell, the “soul food vs. fast food” jokes—but they never add up to coherent comedy. It’s like serving filet mignon on a paper plate with ketchup: you might enjoy the flavor, but the setting ruins your appetite.

🤴 The Plot: A Whole Kingdom Just to Avoid a SparkTest

Here’s the pitch: Akeem—pampered prince with a killer perm—is forced into a loveless political marriage. So he decides to crash the biggest melting pot in America to find a wife who loves him, not his throne. He brings his loyal butler (Arsenio Hall) along, disguised as a foreign teacher, because of course he does. Their mission: traverse Queens incognito, apply to work at McDowell’s, and maybe pick up some street cred.

It’s structured like a rom-com, but the middle drags like a cameo hose commercial. The romance with Lisa (Shari Headley) lacks spark. The “realness” of Queens feels sugar-coated—like someone watched Do the Right Thing and then replaced every thriller beat with soft-focus travelogue imagery. For a movie about class disparity, Coming to Americaperforms about as deeply as a pool of bottled water.

💰 The Characters: Royal Robots in Disguise

Murphy dares to play seven roles here. Seven! That’s like chugging an entire pizza and still showing up for Zumba. We have:

Prince Akeem: Polite. Well-mannered. A romantic who literally turns down wealth and power. Boring.
Clarence and Saul (two different McDowell’s thieves): Somewhat amusing, but really backgrounds shouting “McDowell’s!”
Randy Watson and his band Sexual Chocolate: An embarrassing excuse for a musical number—awkward for everyone involved.
Old Queen and back-up schmaltz versions: Wanda Sykes jokes that “she got her walking papers” but all we got was another gingerbread cookie court.
Bartender: A cameo tossed in to make us think they still had jokes left.

Out of the seven, only Akeem and Semmi bring any life—and even those two are muted by script constraints. The romance feels like a Hallmark adaptation of a luxury travel brochure.

🗽 Queens as Cardboard Culture

How do you make a city that’s the definition of cultural cocktail look dull? Apparently, you stop caring. Queens is portrayed as quaint, convenient, and as gritty as a shopping mall at noon—absurd when compared to its actual bustling, chaotic energy. Everything is sanitized, every ethnic joke is vetted, every moment is measured. It’s like going to a theme park version of New York—wrapped up in gleaming facades, with all edges rounded off.

McDowell’s is a highlight only because it’s trying to be subtle satire of fast-food franchise greed—yet it’s so polite you might miss it between the musical numbers.

😂 The Humor: Soft, Blurry, and Like Wearing Pajamas to a Bar Fight

This is Maddona-era comedy. Nothing here is sharp. If “satire” had a midlife crisis, this would be it. Jokes drop like expired currency. McDowell’s banter falls flat. Akeem’s broken English is only cute until the fortieth “hashtag” (you get the idea). The barbershop scene—supposed to be comedic highlight—has Murphy and Hall swiftly skirting the edges of depth, but instead stay on a nice, safe plane. No danger, no social commentary, no bite.

The biggest laugh might be when Akeem tries to cop Lettuce but instead gets Bean because he’s naive. That’s it. That’s the laugh track injectable, and it barely registers.

Arsenio Hall tries—bless him—but Campbell’s comic energy is buried under layers of safe humor. There’s no risk, no grit, no stakes. It’s like painting a kitten with nail polish and calling it reptile art.

💔 The Romance: Lukewarm Latte Love

Akeem meets Lisa at the bar. She’s smart, hard-working, independent—and yet, as the movie progresses, she becomes exposition. She’s the wall the prince bounces past to get to a diamond. Their chemistry is modest. Not cold… but not the sultry glow of “I lyric trapped my heart in Spanish lyrics and can’t get past crowns” either. Call it “mid-level latte affection.”

Murphy’s charm dims, the stakes wane, and we’re left with a romance subplot that feels so Algebra-II. They like how he is whoever he is. That’s… high school dance-level attraction.

🎉 The Good Moments—Few, But They Shine

The crown-disguised-butler reveal has spark. We see two kings—or at least one good sidekick walk through a shoe store.
Queen’s resistance to letting Akeem go continues to amuse—like a garden-variety soap opera plot in Egyptian silk.
But the best bit? When Arsenio Hall glues a fake mustache on himself and whips out the sexual fantasies of a man whose confidence peaked around barbershop banter. Even he whiffs with the material, but at least he tries.

There’s a glimmer of spiritual truth under all this mud: that love can transcend class, creeds, and wardrobes. It’s almost enough to forgive the movie for being glossier than plasticized politicians.

🎬 The Direction: John Landis on Auto-pilot

Landis could’ve done more here—pushed modern romantic comedy norms, emphasized absurdity, highlighted cultural contrasts. Instead, it’s polished fluff with pastel lipstick. The pacing is slow, the camera too wide, and every scene feels lined up to meet PG-13. Brothers and overdressed extras swirl in the background, and glamour kills more energy than a Microsoft PowerPoint presentation.

There’s no rhythm in the comedy. No tension in the romance. Landis treats it like an expensive cruise, not a cinematic adventure—no storms, no heart attacks, just a pretty swell on the pool deck.

🧭 The Legacy: Disappointing, But Profitable

Despite itself—and because it lacks teeth—it remains a nostalgic favorite. Maybe nostalgia is stronger than substance. There’s an appeal to the fairy tale: foreign prince sneaks into blight and finds his bae. It’s a fluffy lemonade, served in gold-plated goblets, with Arsenio Hall yelling “Sexy Chocolate!” in the background.

It grossed $287 million worldwide—proof that audiences love shiny, packaged fare even if critics roll their eyes. And yes, this one’s so polished you might laugh a few times—but you’ll leave thinking there just should’ve been more.

🧾 Final Thoughts: Royal Disappointment in First Class

Coming to America is like a safari where the lions are tame and the guides are bored. Eddie Murphy delivers the occasional roar, but most of the time he’s yawning in a throne chair. The humor is limp, the romance is tepid, and Queens never feels alive—unless you’re listening for the faint echo of someone in the back of the theater laughing just because they paid eight bucks for popcorn.

It coasts on Murphy’s charisma and cultural aspirations, but it wears both like last season’s blazer. It is, at best, a polished mirage of cleverness—pretty on the surface, hollow within.

Final Rating: ★★☆☆☆ (2 out of 5 golden thrones)
Because sometimes the crown isn’t enough, and this is the movie’s problem: it had everything, but forgot to bring a story worth telling.

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