by Dr Boyce Watkins
To say that Eddie Murphy is a legend might be both obvious and a severe understatement. He’s the kind of person who can make you laugh by saying, “hello,” and the reason that many of us ever turned on SNL in the 1980s. Murphy is the fourth-highest grossing actor of all-time ($6.6 billion worldwide in box office receipts). He was the first black man to appear regularly on the show, and clearly the funniest. Every black man after Eddie was pretty much being compared to him, with only Chris Rock coming close to meeting the standard.
Eddie is one of the most brilliant entertainers and greatest filmmakers of all-time, as well as the savior of SNL. He was to SNL what Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson and Larry Bird were to the NBA. SNL deserves credit for making Eddie a star. Without being granted that platform at the young age of 19, most of us wouldn’t know who Eddie Murphy is.
So, like the rest of the world, I was eagerly anticipating Eddie’s contribution to the 40th anniversary of SNL, expecting to see the performance of a lifetime. Despite the show’s managerial flaws (i.e. their decision to only hire a couple of black women over a nearly 40-year period), I consider it to be one of the best on TV.
Eddie was introduced by another favorite comedian, Chris Rock. Rock is like a black version of Bill Maher, only smarter and funnier. His little jabs at American racism via social media are going to be considered classic and visionary 50 years from today, and he comes off as a man who enjoys using his immense fame and power to say things that might actually help brothers other than himself. I respect that.
So, I’m sitting there watching Chris do an admittedly long-winded introduction of Eddie. I noticed that Chris kept clasping his hands over and over again, as if he was nervous. I thought to myself, “Chris has been famous for over 25 years, why does he appear so nervous?” In hindsight, I wonder if Chris knew that the audience was about to be in for one of the greatest disappointments of all-time.
After building the crowd up with anticipation, Rock finally introduces the star of all stars. Eddie walks out onto the stage with a blue suit that is sharper and more expensive than anything I’ve ever worn in my wildest dreams. He looks like he has aged about 10 minutes since 1984. He appears ready to tear the house down, and the audience is feeling it too. The energy is out the door, through the roof, and over the top. It was crazy.
Eddie receives a standing ovation that was made even longer by the fact that he kept asking the audience to keep clapping…..and clapping……and clapping. Yes, he got quite a bit of mileage out of those claps. He then made a couple of awkward comments about how this felt like going back to his old high school, and then asked the audience to clap again. Eventually, I’m sure people were thinking, “OK, I’ve clapped my ass off, now please say something funny.”
But the funny never happened. Barack Obama has been funnier. Hell, even my grandmother Felicia was funnier at her own funeral (I’m not kidding, something funny really did happen at my grandma’s funeral and we all busted out laughing, we’re sick like that). I’ve laughed more during boring Superbowl commercials.
Eddie gave what might be the biggest 73-second disappointment in recent television history and then walked off the stage. I now wonder if the source of Rock’s angst was the fact that he was about to be a part of the most awkward black NBC moment since Kanye West said that “George Bush does not care about black people.” In that moment many years ago, I still remember Chris Rock’s deer-in-the-headlights expression as the camera quickly panned to him so they could get it away from Kanye. In this case, Rock was kind of like the new Chris Tucker (where is Chris anyway? Maybe he needs to call Ice Cube).
I don’t know why Eddie let his fans down on such a huge night. I don’t know what kind of beef he’s had with SNL that has kept him off the show for the last 30 years (April Taylor speculates on some of this). I don’t even know why he made the appearance in the first place. All I can say is that millions of people who love Eddie Murphy were left disappointed, caught in the crossfire between a really talented comedian and a show that hasn’t always done right by black people.
I will still go see any movie that Eddie Murphy releases. He’s still the most brilliant comedian in Hollywood. He’s still the man who gave us Harlem Nights, Coming to America, The PJs, and a zillion other classics that only he could create. But watching Eddie Murphy on SNL’s 40th anniversary, for me, was like a 10-year old watching his beloved older brother go into the boxing ring and deliberately lie down on the mat. Some might even say that Eddie’s behavior was a little selfish. No matter the reason for Eddie’s zombie-like performance, he probably should have just stayed home and watched the show like the rest of us. I want my 73 seconds back.
The bottom line Mr Murphy is simple: I’m a little hurt by all of this, as are millions of your other fans. You’re the King of Comedy who came off like the guy who gets yanked off the stage at the Apollo. We know you as the best, so either come CORRECT or don’t show up at all. We’ll understand either way. At the very least, don’t waste our time, since many of us were only watching this long, drawn out special to see your appearance anyway.
http://yourblackworld.net/2015/02/17/dr-boyce-watkins-come-eddie-either-snl-right-dont-show/
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