Remember the mid-90s? Movie trailers still felt like events, and the buzz around Eddie Murphy tackling The Nutty Professor was palpable. It wasn't just a remake; it felt like a promise – a return to the kind of high-concept, character-driven comedy that made Murphy a superstar in the 80s. Slipping that chunky VHS tape into the VCR, often rented from Blockbuster after seeing the cardboard standee for weeks, felt like settling in for something special. And boy, did this 1996 hit deliver, mostly thanks to Murphy's astonishing multi-character performance and some truly groundbreaking practical effects magic.

Let's be clear: this isn't Jerry Lewis's 1963 original (though Lewis served as an executive producer here, reportedly pocketing a cool percentage of the profits). Director Tom Shadyac, fresh off launching Jim Carrey into the stratosphere with Ace Ventura: Pet Detective (1994), teamed up with writers including Coming to America (1988) alumni David Sheffield and Barry W. Blaustein, to craft something uniquely... Murphy. The core idea remains: brilliant, kind-hearted, but morbidly obese professor Sherman Klump invents a serum that transforms him into the slim, charismatic, but utterly obnoxious Buddy Love. But where Lewis's Buddy was a suave crooner caricature, Murphy's Buddy is pure id – aggressive, arrogant, and hilariously inappropriate, tapping into a different kind of comedic energy.

The absolute centerpiece, the thing everyone remembers, is Eddie Murphy's tour-de-force. He doesn’t just play Sherman and Buddy; he disappears into almost the entire Klump family during those infamous dinner scenes. Mama, Papa, Ernie Sr., Ernie Jr., and Grandma – each one distinct, each one bouncing off the others in scenes reportedly heavily improvised by Murphy himself. It's a staggering display of comedic talent. Seeing Murphy seamlessly switch between these wildly different personas, often in the same shot thanks to clever editing and effects, was mind-blowing back then. It felt less like trick photography and more like witnessing a performer operating at peak capacity, pushing the boundaries of what one actor could do in a mainstream comedy. This wasn't just acting; it was inhabiting.
And you can't talk about the Klumps, or Sherman himself, without bowing down to the legendary Rick Baker. His makeup work here wasn't just good; it was revolutionary and rightfully snagged him an Academy Award. Forget CGI weight suits; this was painstakingly applied latex and foam, taking hours upon hours each day. Murphy reportedly spent up to four hours getting into the Sherman makeup alone. The result? Characters that felt real, tangible. The weight felt convincing, the facial expressions under the prosthetics surprisingly nuanced. Remember watching Sherman’s jiggling run across campus? That wasn't digital trickery; that was brilliant practical makeup design allowing for physical comedy. Today, this might be achieved with seamless VFX, but there's a certain tactile presence to Baker's work here that remains incredibly impressive. It gave the film a grounded absurdity that digital effects sometimes lack.


Beneath the fat suits and the fast-talking Buddy Love persona, The Nutty Professor does have a genuine heart. Sherman Klump is immensely likable, a truly sweet soul yearning for acceptance and love. His burgeoning romance with the lovely Carla Purty (Jada Pinkett, bringing warmth and charm to a role that could have been thankless) provides the film's emotional anchor. Their chemistry feels genuine, making Sherman's plight relatable even amidst the chaos.
Of course, this being a mid-90s Tom Shadyac comedy, the humor isn't always subtle. The Klump dinner scenes are legendary for their boundary-pushing, often flatulence-focused, jokes. It’s loud, sometimes crude, but undeniably funny in a way that felt specific to that era’s blockbuster comedies. There’s also the hilariously aggressive stand-up set by Buddy Love taking down Dave Chappelle’s insult comic character, Reggie Warrington – a scene that still gets quoted today. Some jokes might land differently now, viewed through a modern lens, but the sheer energy Murphy brings papers over many cracks.
Released in the summer of '96, The Nutty Professor was a certified blockbuster. Against a reported $54 million budget, it raked in over $270 million worldwide, marking a significant comeback for Eddie Murphy after a few years of less successful ventures. Critics were somewhat divided – some lauded Murphy's performance and Baker's effects, others found the humor too low-brow. But audiences didn't care; they flocked to see Murphy unleash his comedic arsenal. It spawned a sequel, Nutty Professor II: The Klumps (2000), which doubled down on the family aspect but arguably lost some of the original's charm.

Why? The Nutty Professor earns this score primarily for Eddie Murphy's incredible, multi-role comedic masterclass and Rick Baker's Oscar-winning practical makeup effects, which were genuinely groundbreaking for their time. It successfully rebooted a classic premise for a new generation, blending surprisingly heartfelt moments with the kind of broad, sometimes crass, but often hilarious comedy that defined mid-90s blockbusters. While some humor feels dated, the sheer talent on display and the film's undeniable energy make it a standout of the era. It perfectly captured Murphy's unique genius and reminded everyone why he was a comedy legend.
Final Take: This tape was practically glued into my VCR for a while back then. It’s a near-perfect time capsule of mid-90s blockbuster comedy – loud, unapologetic, built around a phenomenal star turn, and showcasing practical effects wizardry that still impresses. Buddy Love might be obnoxious, but Sherman Klump (and his family) remain comedy gold.