TL;DR: The Pickup is Eddie Murphy’s latest misfire—a soulless, awkward heist-comedy that squanders its A-list cast, leans on a creaky script, and forgets to be funny. Keke Palmer and Pete Davidson try to inject energy, but Murphy seems trapped in a movie he doesn’t want to be in. It’s not just bad—it’s worse than Norbit, and that’s saying something. 1.5/5.

I grew up thinking Eddie Murphy could do anything. He could make you cry with laughter in Beverly Hills Cop, break your brain with characters in The Nutty Professor, and when the moment called for it—shatter hearts in Dreamgirls. But in The Pickup, now streaming on Amazon Prime Video, we see something rare: not just a bad Eddie Murphy movie, but a joyless one. This isn’t a mid-tier swing that doesn’t quite land. No, this is a total misfire—one that feels like a contractual obligation wrapped in a cringeworthy script.

An Action Comedy Without the Action or the Comedy

Let’s start here: the premise is built like a Jenga tower with missing middle pieces. Murphy plays Russell, a weary armored car driver just counting the days to retirement—a setup so worn-out you half expect Danny Glover to walk in and say “I’m too old for this shit.” His partner is Travis, played by Pete Davidson doing his usual wide-eyed dumbass routine, and their interactions are about as exciting as waiting in line at the DMV.

Into this mix comes Zoe, played by Keke Palmer, who gives the only performance with any real pulse. She’s a con artist with plans for a big heist, and she seduces Travis to steal armored truck access. There’s a spark of something here—maybe a modern Out of Sight vibe—but it fizzles fast under the weight of a script so hacky it makes sitcom filler look like Aaron Sorkin.

Worse, the film seems to think its forced chemistry between Palmer and Davidson is cute, maybe even steamy. But it’s mostly just weird, awkward, and tonally mismatched—like someone tried to reboot Mr. & Mrs. Smith with the leftover cast of a Hulu sketch show.

Murphy, in Absentia

Murphy’s Russell is written like someone’s idea of a stoic elder statesman, but he just comes off as tired—and not in a character-driven way. In interviews for Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F, Murphy joked that he wouldn’t do stunts anymore unless he got Morgan Freeman-style treatment. Here, that weariness seems real. Every punch, every chase, every deadpan line lands like it’s running on fumes. There’s no twinkle in the eye, no gleeful mischief—the kind that powered even his bad movies in the past.

It’s not just the physical performance that’s gone flat. Murphy’s legendary timing, his improv sharpness, his charisma—none of it makes it to the screen. He looks like he’s enduring a punishment, not starring in a movie. If Dolemite Is My Name was a renaissance, The Pickup feels like a career regression.

A Wasted Ensemble

And yet, Murphy’s sleepwalking isn’t even the biggest tragedy here. That honor goes to the utter waste of comedic talent surrounding him. Keke Palmer—who has proven time and again that she can carry comedy, drama, musicals, you name it—is given barely any room to play. Pete Davidson, who has his own brand of slacker charm, is stuck mugging through lines that feel like they were lifted from an unproduced Brooklyn Nine-Nine spec script.

Eva Longoria? Blink and you’ll miss her. Andrew Dice Clay? Present, but mostly ignored. Marshawn Lynch? Cast as a guy literally named Chop Shop, and the movie does nothing with that. It’s like someone assembled a dream lineup for a wild, irreverent caper—and then handed them a screenplay found in the recycling bin behind a 2011 Redbox kiosk.

Directed to Death

Tim Story, who once brought us the culturally vibrant Barbershop and the snappy buddy energy of Ride Along, seems asleep at the wheel. The direction is flat, the pacing is erratic, and the action sequences feel like they were choreographed via Slack. There’s an armored truck stunt that should be thrilling—Russell ejecting a henchman onto another car mid-chase—but it’s edited so poorly and executed so stiffly that it lands with a thud.

And when you realize Ruth Carter—the Oscar-winning costume designer behind Black Panther—worked on this film, you feel even more betrayed. There’s not a single iconic outfit, no visual flair, nothing to justify her presence. Every creative person involved in this film seems underutilized or uninspired.

The Painful Meta-Layers

There’s a moment early in the movie where Davidson’s character tells Murphy’s Russell: “Your generation can’t pivot.” It’s meant to be a gag about old dogs and new tricks, but it lands like a truth bomb. Because this movie—this entire production—feels like Murphy trying to pivot into a genre that doesn’t fit him anymore. It’s not that he’s too old for action-comedy; it’s that this action-comedy isn’t worthy of him.

That line sticks with you. It doesn’t just summarize the movie’s failure—it gestures at a deeper question: Has Hollywood forgotten how to use Eddie Murphy? Or has Eddie Murphy forgotten what kind of stories he should be telling now?

Final Thoughts: What Were We Even Doing Here?

By the time the credits roll, you feel like you’ve just watched 90 minutes of people trying to make something that no one believed in. There are no big laughs, no slick heist sequences, no memorable quotes. It’s the cinematic equivalent of reheated leftovers—unappealing, mushy, and worse the second time around.

The Pickup doesn’t just waste your time; it insults your nostalgia. It reminds you of how great Murphy once was, and how little of that greatness is present here. I wanted to like it. I wanted to be surprised. I wasn’t.

The Pickup is a comedy heist movie without comedy or suspense. Eddie Murphy feels like a cameo in his own film, and despite the presence of talented stars like Keke Palmer and Pete Davidson, the script gives them nothing to work with. It’s dull, disjointed, and worse than Norbit—a benchmark we hoped never to revisit.