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In his concert film Raw, Eddie Murphy does a mean impression of Cosby -- sputtering, paternal, obsessively self-censoring -- and it is funnier than anything the real Cosby manages in Leonard Part 6. It is almost funnier than anything else in Raw. As Cosby is to television, Murphy is to movies: the undisputed popular champ. Cos plays the good father, Eddie the adorable, rank- mouthed boy. And Murphy is more: a gifted mimic with explosive sexual charisma. That's what gives the Beverly Hills Cop films their sleek, self- satisfied zing. But 90 minutes of Murphy, prowling the stage in duds of black and blue (just like his comedy), can wear thin when the text of his sermon is the cupidity of women and the stupidity of men. Richard Pryor, Murphy's stand- up role model, earned his right to obscene rage. In the younger, middle- class comic, anger seems a petulant pose. Like any sham evangelist, he can entertain without convincing. And even in this ragged turn, a viewer can do with Murphy's comedy what Murphy complains most women want to do with his immense fortune: take half.
For a sweet seasonal gift, take all of Moonstruck, the most beguiling romantic comedy this side of Broadcast News. Strains of Dean Martin's That's Amore -- "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" -- fill the Brooklyn night. A full moon illuminates Loretta Castorini (Cher) and all her family. Everybody falls in love. Her father (Vincent Gardenia), who claims he can't fall asleep because "it's too much like death," slinks out for a bit of tart on the side. Loretta's mother (Olympia Dukakis) dines furtively with a professor (John Mahoney) who keeps striking out with his prettiest students. "I'm too old for you," Mother tells the prof, to which he gives the eternal male response: "I'm too old for me. That's my predicament." And Loretta, just engaged to an agreeable loser (Danny Aiello), is seduced by her fiance's one-handed brother Ronny (Nicolas Cage). He has no illusions about love. "We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die," he observes with hangdog intensity. "Now I want you to come upstairs with me and get in my bed!" Who could refuse?
In outline, Moonstruck might seem an offer anyone could refuse. The Italo- American characters and mannerisms are familiar from several Martin Scorsese movies and a hundred lowbrow sitcoms. But Screenwriter John Patrick Shanley has an ear that confounds cliche and a plot that is both devious and inevitable. As photographed by David Watkin (Out of Africa), Moonstruck is as pristine and fanciful as Lady and the Tramp. As directed by Norman Jewison (A Soldier's Story), it moves with the crack of sexual friction. Jewison has also put together a terrific ensemble of actors. Cher, rag-dolled up in heavy Sicilian eyebrows, relaxes into her most engaging movie role. And Cage has a great time segueing from Stanley Kowalski, absentmindedly scratching himself with his prosthesis, into a Brooklyn Barrymore. Moonstruck proves there is life in movie comedy yet. Enough, at least, to survive till next Christmas.