The Pickup is easily the worst Eddie Murphy movie in recent memory. That’s right: worse than A Thousand Words, the Liar Liar ripoff so underwhelming that Murphy had to take a break from making comedies. And worse than Norbit, the Nutty Professor ersatz likely costing him the Oscar for Dreamgirls. At least in those comedy clunkers, Murphy came to play. He made clear either through advanced prosthetics or through sheer force of personality that he could deliver a satisfying performance no matter the premise – or, better still: elevate hackneyed material. But in this straight-to-Prime Video snoozefest Murphy struggles to hide his age and boredom while looking for all the world like a hostage in his own heist flick.

It takes work to make Murphy entirely unfunny, and this film manages the job one-handed. It surrounds him with a playful cast: Eva Longoria, a true all-rounder; Pete Davidson, the SNL stitch-up; and Keke Palmer, maybe the funniest woman of her generation. But then it delivers them a script written by two guys – Kevin Burrows and Matt Mider – best known for a web series about anthropomorphic lobsters. It all comes together in 90 of the longest minutes you’ll ever spend in front of a screen, provided you even make it that far.

At this late career stage, Murphy is at his best when leaning into nostalgia – whether replaying the hits (Coming 2 America, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F) or indulging his inner child (Dolemite Is My Name, Candy Cane Lane). But The Pickup doesn’t even get that right. Instead it has Murphy playing Russell, an armored messenger counting down the days until retirement in a setup seemingly ripped from the first Lethal Weapon.

Then there’s Davidson as Travis, the doofus partner who nearly shot up a bank after misreading a random come-on as a robbery attempt. And while his instincts weren’t completely off – his seducer, Zoe (Palmer), winds up stripping him of privileged security information – they do ultimately leave him and Russell vulnerable to a hijacking while making rounds in their armored truck. Naturally, that sets up phase 2 of the plan – an overwrought copy-paste of Oceans 11. At one point Zoe chalks up her heist plans as just another big score in our otherwise compromised capitalist system. But that line isn’t as eye-roll inducing as the implication of romantic chemistry between Zoe and Travis, which the film is at pains to hammer home with a nod to Davidson’s rumored BDE.

To watch Murphy throw drop-kicks, launch dye packs and otherwise fend off robbers is to be reminded of Murphy’s increasing reluctance to perform his own stunts at age 64. During the press run for Axel F, he joked about rebuffing director Mark Molloy’s call to run down a set of steps with greater urgency. “Don’t call me unless you’re offering me the same type of shit you would offer Morgan Freeman,” he cracked.

In fact, the film’s action sequences overall beggar belief. Longoria pops up in the middle of the action like Taraji P Henson at the end of Acrimony. Russell ejects one of Zoe’s henchmen from his speeding armored truck onto another car trailing just behind; he crashes back-first onto the hood, caroms onto the highway and somehow lives to fight another day. Worse, bullets fly all over the place – and yet the only one that really lands winds up taking out the chop shop owner played by Marshawn Lynch, a football legend with a pronounced history of repelling unwelcome aggression.

Oh, and they had the nerve to name Lynch’s character Chop Shop without nodding at that absurdity. They didn’t give him any funny lines or make much effort to punch up the truck depot manager portrayed by Andrew Dice Clay – you know, the comedy legend who played to a sold out Madison Square Garden crowd not long after Murphy set the standard. The waste of comedic talent here borders on criminal, but not as severe as commissioning Ruth Carter to render the pedestrian costumes. All of it will leave you wondering if director Tim Story, the same comedy boffin who gave the world Barbershop, Ride Along and The Blackening – had this picture hijacked out from under him. Or maybe he was just keen to show how many cars he could blow up in one frame?

Early on in the film, as the buddy cops settle into the getting-to-know-you stage, Russell shares his gauzy plan to open a bed and breakfast upon retiring, and Travis balks at the career shift. Technically, he tells Russell: “Your generation can’t pivot,” but it feels like he’s speaking directly to Murphy – who should’ve known better than to pick up a full-on action comedy script at his big age. This film isn’t likely to do significant long-term damage to his beloved reputation, not with his turn as Inspector Clouseau coming down the pike. But those who do brave his heist flick won’t soon forget the time they were taken prisoner, too.