Not for kids ... Eddie Murphy in the original Beverly Hills Cop
Sequel-bashing is not in my nature, but the current trend toward bringing out of retirement those action heroes who surrendered their arms decades ago has lent mainstream cinema a pervasive and unhealthy "I Love the 80s" vibe. Four, in this case, is the tragic number. Having called it a day, to all intents and purposes, with a trilogy of instalments, Bruce Willis (as John McClane), Sylvester Stallone (as John Rambo) and Harrison Ford (as Indiana Jones) have all returned recently to demonstrate that it's not just food that should have a use-by date.
I'm not opposed to the continuing employment of these fine performers (Stallone excepted). And I don't doubt that they can still be entertaining in the action genre - what little enjoyment I took away from Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull came entirely from seeing Ford accepting visibly the physical limitations of turning 65. This time he was riding pillion in the motorbike chase, and coming over all fuddy-duddy while getting sucked into quicksand. He even walks away from the big climactic light show because it's all too much for him. Which is far preferable to the chest-beating and self-denial of, say, Die Hard 4.0 (that title is supposed to stop us noticing how antiquated the picture feels).
Now the commercial success of these relics (and I'm referring to the franchises here, not the actors) seems to have convinced those in control of the rights of other popular 1980s characters that there's easy money to be had from digging up the hits of the past. The cycle of once-popular movie heroes returning from the commercial hinterland is already continuing with the news that Eddie Murphy is to climb back into Axel Foley's sweatshirts and weekend sneakers for another Beverly Hills Cop film.
Putting aside the small matter that the charms of this narcissistic would-be hipster expired about halfway through the original 1984 blockbuster comedy, Murphy has squandered most of the public's goodwill following a run of anodyne family-oriented knock-offs that sought to rehabilitate his formerly abrasive image. Occasionally, he'll do something like Dreamgirls or Bowfinger that gives you a poignant reminder of how sparky he can be. But the choices that he makes, the hopeless projects to which he attaches his name, have long served notice on his talent.
Clearly somebody somewhere has seen the ease with which the 1980s revival has coaxed money from undiscerning punters, and concluded that if they'll cough up for Rocky and Rambo, they'll do it for Axel. (It could be worse: Stallone was the original choice for the lead in Beverly Hills Cop.) So that's the bad news. The really, really bad news is that Brett Ratner, king of the hacks, is directing the film, and has remarked: "10-year-old kids, 12-year-old kids don't really know the old Beverly Hills Cop. So it's an opportunity to make it new for kids. The same way it felt for me watching Beverly Hills Cop when I was a kid, that's what I want to do for kids today." Who among us, as we read those lines, can fail to hear in our ears Axel Foley's catchphrase? Which was, if you recall, an extended, gloating, self-regarding laugh which suggested strongly that the joke is on us - "Heh, heh, heh ..."
All of which is a long-winded way of saying: Please don't let anyone have the bright idea of making more Smokey and the Bandit movies.
