Alright, rewind your minds with me. Picture this: the flickering glow of the CRT, the satisfying clunk of inserting a well-loved tape, and the slightly fuzzy Paramount logo appearing on screen. Maybe you grabbed this one off the 'New Releases' wall at Blockbuster, or perhaps it became a permanent fixture in your home collection after that first rental. I’m talking about John Landis's 1988 comedy behemoth, Coming to America, a film that felt like pure comedic royalty hitting the VHS circuit.
This wasn't just another fish-out-of-water story; it was Eddie Murphy at the absolute zenith of his 80s superstardom, taking a fairy tale premise – a wealthy African prince seeking true love in America – and spinning it into gold, Queens-style. Prince Akeem Joffer of Zamunda, ridiculously pampered yet refreshingly earnest, rejects an arranged marriage to find a woman who loves him for himself, not his title. And where else would a prince search for his queen but… Queens, New York? The setup alone is brilliant, contrasting the opulent, almost surreal world of Zamunda (brought to life with lavish costumes and sets that probably cost a king's ransom themselves – the film did have a hefty $36 million budget back then!) with the gritty, vibrant, and often hilarious reality of late-80s New York City.
### Kings of Comedy (and Disguise)
Let's be real, the absolute magic trick of Coming to America lies in the chameleonic genius of Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall. Forget subtle character work; this was a masterclass in broad, unforgettable comedic transformations. Murphy isn't just the charming Prince Akeem; he's also the ancient, opinionated barbershop patron Clarence, the profoundly untalented lead singer of Sexual Chocolate, Randy Watson (whose rendition of "Greatest Love of All" is comedy pain/perfection), and the white, Jewish barbershop regular Saul. Hall matches him step-for-step as Akeem's loyal aide Semmi, the fiery Reverend Brown, Morris the barber, and that unforgettable woman in the club ("His mama call him Clay, I'mma call him Clay!").
The sheer audacity of playing these multiple, distinct characters is staggering, and it’s all glued together by the legendary Rick Baker's Oscar-nominated makeup effects. These weren't just quick disguises; they were immersive transformations that allowed Murphy and Hall to vanish into these personalities. Apparently, Murphy loved annoying John Landis (with whom he’d previously made Trading Places (1983) and reportedly had some friction on this set) by staying in the Saul makeup long after takes. It’s these moments, these larger-than-life characters bouncing off each other in that iconic barbershop, that elevate the film beyond its simple premise. Remember trying to spot them under all that latex?
### McDowell's, Soul Glo, and Finding a Queen
The journey through Queens is paved with comedic gold. Akeem and Semmi’s experiences working minimum wage at McDowell's – the home of the Big Mick, not the Big Mac, mind you – provide endless laughs. John Amos is perfectly cast as Cleo McDowell, the proud owner trying just a little too hard to emulate his golden-arched rival while remaining fiercely protective of his daughters. His deadpan reactions to Akeem's princely ignorance are priceless. The film walks a fine line, poking fun at cultural differences and stereotypes without (usually) punching down, maintaining a surprising amount of heart beneath the gags.
And the romance! Shari Headley as Lisa McDowell is radiant and crucially, believable as someone who could capture a prince's heart with her intelligence and independence, unaware of his true identity. Their courtship provides the film's sweet center, a necessary anchor amidst the comedic chaos of Soul Glo commercials and Zamundan royal entourages descending upon New York. It’s this blend of outrageous humor and genuine charm that made the movie connect so strongly. You wanted Akeem to find his queen.
### More Than Just Laughs
Behind the scenes, the film wasn't all smooth sailing. Besides the rumoured tension between star and director, there was also a famous lawsuit from humorist Art Buchwald claiming the film's premise was based on his treatment, which Paramount eventually settled. But none of that friction visibly translates to the screen. Landis, a maestro of blending comedy with genre elements (An American Werewolf in London (1981)), keeps the pacing brisk and knows exactly when to let his stars shine. Even the brief cameos by Don Ameche and Ralph Bellamy, reprising their Duke brothers roles from Trading Places, feel like a knowing wink to the audience, a little Easter egg for fans tucked into Akeem's introduction to American poverty.
The film was a certified blockbuster, pulling in over $128 million domestically (that's nearly $300 million today!) and solidifying Murphy's place as a global phenomenon. Its R-rating, mostly for language and brief nudity, felt perfectly pitched for the slightly edgier comedy landscape of the late 80s. It wasn’t trying to be family-friendly; it was aiming for big, sometimes boundary-pushing laughs, and it delivered.
### The Verdict
Coming to America is pure comfort food cinema from the VHS era. It's endlessly quotable, visually memorable (those Zamundan wedding outfits!), and powered by two comedic talents operating at peak performance under layers of brilliant makeup. The blend of fairy tale romance, fish-out-of-water comedy, and affectionate cultural satire still largely works, even if some elements feel distinctly '80s. It’s a film made with infectious energy and a surprising amount of sweetness beneath the swagger. Revisiting it feels like catching up with old friends – the loud, hilarious ones you can always count on for a good time.
Rating: 9/10 - A near-perfect execution of a high-concept comedy, elevated by legendary performances and truly iconic character work. It balances outrageous humor with genuine heart, making it one of the most beloved and rewatchable comedies of the 80s. The sheer comedic firepower on display is undeniable.
Final Thought: Forget streaming algorithms; this is the kind of comedic royalty you earned by hitting rewind, a crown jewel of 80s comedy that still absolutely commands the room. Long live Zamunda, and long live McDowell's!