If Eddie Murphy took two industrial-strength clothespins and put one on each testicle, he would become Chris Tucker. Tucker, who plays a street hustler named Franklin Hatchett, has a voice that's so high he can't go out at night lest bats start dive-bombing him. Tucker's voice is so annoying that even Mike Tyson makes fun of it.
The only person around to divert us from Franklin's screeching is a television news reporter played by Charlie Sheen. Being a member of the same family as Emilio Estevez, Charlie's films also fall under my "Emilio Estevez" clause, which states: "Any movie in which Emilio Estevez does not die within the first five minutes automatically sucks." The only reason to have Sheen around more than five minutes is to have him strangle Tucker, which doesn't happen. Thus, we end up with a black guy, a white guy and an unlikely partnership. Anybody heard of "48 HRS."?
Franklin gets caught up in a prison break and is falsely accused of being one of the instigators. Having absolutely nothing in common with James Russell (Sheen) and loathing everything the guy stands for, Franklin naturally turns to him for help.
Together, they battle the bad guys and each other before finally earning each other's respect in a dynamic that's become so clichéd that screenwriters can now write these movies using only a "plot by numbers" system and a touch-tone phone. The rest of us are left to dial "911" and summon Fire & Rescue to bodily haul this movie's comatose victims out of the theater.
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