Eddie Murphy isn’t funny anymore. Not even a little. When the alarmed 10-year-old Charlie (Natalie Coughlin) announces to her dying mother, Marie (Natascha McElhone), “there’s a black man in our kitchen,” she neglects to point out that black man was once the funniest man alive. “Yes, dear. That was a looooong time ago.” Now, he’s a straight man … and his career finally seems to be on the right path.
Mr. Church (Murphy) has been hired to cook for Marie and Charlie. Well, the title is “cook,” but for the role he assumes, he’s their manservant and major domo, making sure everything in the apartment is tended to so Marie can die in peace. He isn’t phased by Charlie’s alarm. He isn’t phased by much, in fact. Bills, recipes, rudeness, anger, frustration – he treats it all as an alien superbeing might deal with earthlings … “I’m just here to help you get along; I’m not indifferent to your pain, but I’m not changing.” Mr. Church, which is how he is addressed for the entirety of the film, has a penchant for … pretty much everything. He cooks, sews, dances, reads, plays the piano and anything else you need him to do, all without lessons or practice. He has been employed by Marie’s deceased lover to act as cook for the girls until mom dies, at which point he has earned freedom and a paycheck to set him for life.
You can see where this is going, right? Single mom with a limited shelf-life, only child, unmarried father figure … it doesn’t matter how life shoved them together; it only matters how they handle it. One wonders what Mr. Church used to do with the 18 hours a day he spends at the home of Charlie and Marie. This is the film’s big mystery – what does Mr. Church do when he’s not around Charlie (played older by Britt Robertson)? Although the film loves Mr. Church, it implies through lack of backstory that he’s some sort of polite helper-bot. He puts you to bed at ten and eight hours later, you wake to his homemade breakfast. Presumably, he went home and had a life in the mean time, but never see it.
Essentially a fairy tale set in 1970s Los Angeles, Mr. Church doesn’t bother with the petty questions of existence. Every day, Mr. Church takes care of you. 
That’s it. Don’t stress over where he goes or what he does … that might break the spell; it will work if you don’t question it.
While Mr. Church is probably the most mature role of Eddie Murphy’s life, the film itself is not. Oh, it doesn’t go for puerile laughs –or any laughs at all for that matter – but this film is a memory seen through the eyes of a child. Mr. Church presents the hero as nothing less than the ideal vision of personhood – talented, punctual, patient, understanding, intelligent, sympathetic, inspiring, etc… except for his mysterious “personal time.” Mr. Church seems to require about three hours of sleep a night, if that. Questions of race and sexuality are neither offered, nor answered. Far as the movie is concerned, they do not matter. Well, that’s great, because I was worried that after the Watts riots of 1965, the place would be a racial powderkeg. But hey, just ten years later, Los Angeles has no racial issues at all. That sure cleaned up nicely, didn’t it?
The hopeless romantic in you will tear up more than once at this material. If that’s what you love in a movie, go and find your bliss. I’m waiting to see if Eddie can use this as a stepping stone to an adult career of some sort.
♪I’m always harried in the morning
Ding dong alarm it’s almost nine
Where is my jumper? Gee, that’s a stumper
Thank God, here’s Mr. Church on time
I can’t make breakfast in the morning
Apple Jacks, to me, they are just fine
But this guy won’t have it, ready made he’ll have it
Cooked by Mr. Church on time♫
Rated PG-13, 104 Minutes
D: Bruce Beresford
W: Susan McMartin
Genre: Unlikely friendship
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless romantics
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Realists
♪ Parody inspired by “Get Me To The Church On Time”
