The film’s best joke is its most self-aware: during the climactic wedding sequence, Rasputia tears through a fake wall like the Kool-Aid Man, screaming, “Oh yeah!” It’s absurd, stupid, and perfectly executed. But these moments are oases in a desert of mean-spiritedness. The romantic subplot with Thandie Newton’s Kate is the film’s weakest element—Newton, a genuinely elegant actress, looks lost, delivering lines like “I’ll always be your Boo-Boo Kitty” with a desperate professionalism. There is zero chemistry between her and Murphy’s Norbit, making the film’s emotional core feel like an obligation.
Flash forward to adulthood. Norbit (Murphy, in a subdued, soft-spoken performance) is a meek, downtrodden accountant trapped in a loveless, terrifying marriage to Rasputia (Murphy in a fat suit and heavy prosthetics). Rasputia is a monstrous force of nature: loud, sexually aggressive, physically abusive, and profoundly entitled. She and her three hulking, dim-witted brothers (also played by Murphy, in an astonishing feat of multi-role chutzpah) run the town of Boiling Springs, Tennessee, with an iron, spandex-clad fist.
Ultimately, Norbit is not a good movie. It is not a so-bad-it’s-good movie. It is a so-wrong-it’s-fascinating movie. It stands as a testament to a particular moment in American comedy when the only rule was “make them laugh, no matter the collateral damage.” For some, it is an guilty pleasure; for others, an unwatchable relic. But for anyone interested in the limits of comedy, the weight of representation, and the spectacular, sweaty, latex-bound ambition of Eddie Murphy, Norbit is essential, uncomfortable viewing. It is a film you can’t defend, but you also can’t look away from. Norbit -2007-
The story is a bizarre, hyperactive spin on the classic “ugly duckling” and “childhood sweethearts” tropes. Orphaned as a baby, Norbit Albert Rice is left at the steps of the Golden Wonton Restaurant & Orphanage, run by the kindly, elderly Mr. Wong (Eddie Murphy in his first of three roles). There, he meets Kate (Thandie Newton), a sweet, pigtailed girl who promises to be his friend forever.
To watch Norbit in 2025 is to experience a profound tonal whiplash. It is a film of undeniable, bizarre craftsmanship and relentless, puerile cruelty. It is both too mean to be sweet and too cartoonish to be truly dangerous. Eddie Murphy’s performance is a wonder of physical comedy and a monument to bad taste. The film’s best joke is its most self-aware:
The humor of Norbit is the humor of a slapstick cartoon. People are hit with shovels, thrown through walls, and humiliated in elaborate set pieces. A running gag involves Rasputia’s brothers working as “pimps” in a failed waterbed store. There’s a scene where Norbit is forced to sing a love song to Rasputia in a crowded restaurant, only to be smashed in the face with a dessert tray.
Yet, to dismiss Norbit entirely is to ignore Murphy’s astonishing technical skill. He plays three distinct roles, often in the same scene, requiring hours of prosthetic makeup and precise, actor-to-actor blocking. Mr. Wong, the elderly, wise, stereotypical Chinese restaurateur, is a gentler caricature—a role Murphy performs with a surprising tenderness, even if the accent is a time capsule of an earlier, less sensitive era. The three Latimore brothers (Rasputia’s siblings) are each given distinct physicalities and vocal tics: Blue is the brutish leader, Black is the stoic enforcer, and Earl is the dim-witted, childlike one. There is zero chemistry between her and Murphy’s
No discussion of Norbit can bypass the towering, controversial figure of Rasputia. Murphy’s performance is a grotesque carnival act: he wears a 70-pound silicone fat suit, his face stretched into a permanent scowl with a tiny, pursed mouth and fierce eyes. Rasputia is written as a litany of the worst possible stereotypes about large Black women—she is loud, domineering, hypersexual, gluttonous, and physically violent.