All this postmodernism doesnt half get confusing. So lets get this straight. Eddie Murphy, red Beverly Hills Cop jacket and all, plays a loud-mouthed live wire? Robert De Niro, one of the worlds greatest thespians, is a crotchety cop whose TV acting yup, acting leaves a lot to be desired? Oh, how damn clever.
Sort of. Because more often than not, Showtime is actually as formulaic and derivative as the movies it wants us to believe its parodying. It flounders under the perception that it can disguise a sparsity of ideas as hip, knowing satire. Well thanks, but no.
Back in the days of Scream, of course, the more gullible multiplex crowd would have lapped all this up with a spoon. By now, though, weve all sat through Scream 3 and are somewhat more demanding. True, Showtime starts off promisingly, with the amiable chemistry between De Niro and Murphy warming the cockles and Rene Russo once again proving that if life doesnt begin at 40, it at least improves with age. Likewise, the sight of William Shatner educating the buddies in their hokey T.J. Hooker-isms is, if only for a brief time, inspired.
The problem, unfortunately, is that as soon as the media sideswipes and so-so satire are replaced by a woefully worn subplot hey, if in doubt, bung in a car chase, some big guns and foreign bad guys! everything grinds to an unimaginative halt.
To the point that (and get this for some genuine irony), for all of De Niros tics and Murphys wisecracking, the overriding feeling is that a little more of Captain James T. Kirk wouldnt be a bad thing.
Director Dey, meanwhile, acquits himself fairly well, framing whats left of the action one would imagine the original screenplays more pointed satirical edges were smoothed out by wary studio lackeys with occasional flair, following up 2000s Shanghai Noon with disappointing, but not disastrous, style.