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Eddie Murphy needed a comeback after
The Adventures of Pluto Nash, but
I Spy didn't provide it. As with his previous turkey, Murphy's the least of this movie's problems; his spitfire delivery begs for better plotting and dialogue, and his teaming with Owen Wilson had even more promise than Wilson's
Shanghai comedies with Jackie Chan. But this unfunny hash--bearing no resemblance to the 1960s Bill Cosby-Robert Culp TV series that inspired it--undermines Murphy and Wilson at every turn, stranding them in scenes that play well in isolation but never form a coherent action-comedy. It's not that director Betty Thomas is incapable; she just seems uninterested, going through the motions while Eddie, Owen, and Famke Janssen play spy games in Budapest, chasing after a villain (Malcolm McDowell, wasted again) who's stolen a sleek, invisibility-cloaked jet bomber called the Switchblade. Explosions, shootouts, double-crosses... ignore it all, and find what pleasure you can in Eddie and Owen's aimless banter.
--Jeff Shannon
Eddie Murphy and Owen Wilson team up as a reluctant pair of secret agents. Their mission, which they've decided to accept, is to collect a huge check. The movie is not even remotely based on the groundbreaking sixties television series; instead, the producers bought the title and hired witless writers to patch together a screenplay. Murphy and Wilson are clearly up for a good time, but the whole project fails miserably. -Bruce Diones
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker