Struggling against saving his own nightclub, Pluto Nash, a young man, who works hard to rebuild his nightclub to be a famous one, refuses to give it for a mob boss, the thing that brings terrible for him.
Formulaic films are released every week, but it's rare that one has a $100 million budget, big stars whose roles are embarrassing to watch and unusual special effects that only serve to mask a predictable plot and cliche-ridden scenes.
It's one of those classically awful movies that you almost have to see to truly appreciate why it well deserves its status as one of the worst movies of all time.
Forensics experts will be digging through the rubble of this fiasco for a long time, trying to reconstruct the accident. How did so many lines fall flat? Why were the action scenes so corny and unconvincing? Who put the stink on this?
A paralyzingly dopey mess, Pluto sat on the shelf for more than a year while Warner Bros. tried to inject some life into it. You might as well try to revive a stuffed moose.
A waste of talent and money, Pluto Nash seems convinced that simply sticking Eddie Murphy in outer space with expensive special effects will produce laughs.
Complete with a Xanadu-style dance routine, Pam Grier as Pluto's mother indulging in tired blaxploitation moves and rent-a-cameo John Cleese as a virtual reality chauffeur, this is a flop of epic proportions.
The result is something quite rare in professional show business: 1 1/2 hours of pure blankness. It's there but it's not there. It is but it isn't. It has nothing to offer. It's not forgettable, really, because there's nothing to forget.
