Hola all. Massawyrm here.

Seriously. Were any of you actually thinking of seeing this? At this point in his career, you can smell Eddie Murphy’s family comedies twenty steps outside the theater. He’s fallen into a pattern – right down to what jokes he’s going to tell and what faces he’s going to make. There appear to be two, distinctly different Eddie Murphy’s. The talented actor/comedian. And the guy who shows up to collect his checks. His latest film, IMAGINE THAT, stars the latter.

This is not a terrible movie. But it isn’t really any good either. If you don’t have a child under the age of ten accompanying you into the theater to see this, then really – what the hell are you doing there? There’s nothing here for you. This thing is so formulaic you can write it yourself. Murphy plays the modern day Disney Dad ™. You know the type. Dedicated to his family, overworks himself to the bone to provide for them, doesn’t quite understand his kid like his wife because he doesn’t spend every waking moment with them. You know, what Hollywood calls an asshole. And it’s up to some magical/divine intervention to show our Disney dad what a big asshole he is so he can ultimately tell his boss to go screw while he runs off to get ice cream and reconnect with his children.

This time that magical intervention is his daughter’s blanket, which provides sound financial advice/insider trading from beyond; all cleverly described in childish metaphors that Eddie Murphy and the people in his office have to decipher. Just imagine the joy of hearing Murphy rant about a company’s pants being pulled down to “show their underwear which is filled with poop,” and you begin to understand why (if you have no progeny running around in another room begging to see this) there is probably nothing here for you. Meanwhile, Thomas Hayden Church is running around as bad Native American stereotype/charlatan, spouting out platitudes about how we all live under one sky and need to shower ourselves in the waterfalls of capitol. You see, the idea is that it is supposed to be funny to watch two grown ass men run around and spout imaginary bullshit beliefs about how to pick stocks.

Insert your own joke about the collapse of our financial institution here. I figure if this movie isn’t going to try, why the fuck should I?

The only oddity worth noting is that someone thought it would be cool to fill the soundtrack with soft rock, severely pussy-fied versions of classic Beatles songs. I mean, when you can make a song so fucking tame that it makes the original “Here Comes the Sun” sound like a Metallica cover, you have missed the fucking point. It’s not a lullaby. They did this with I AM SAM a few years ago, but were wise enough to hire interesting bands to cover the songs. This is cinematic Ambien.

Look, this is not awful, but it is dull enough to bore anyone not actively trying to enjoy it with their kids. If you’re kids are clamoring for it, you’ll survive. It’s nowhere near as painful as DADDY DAY CARE – but once it vanishes from theaters I highly doubt anyone will remember it, let alone bring it up in conversation. It is the very baseline of milquetoast family entertainment. If you have the choice, see UP again. Otherwise, coffee up cowboy.

Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.

Massawyrm

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