ith a brilliantly momentous, classical music introduction (the whole soundtrack is spot-on), Philadelphia is shown in its various states – from the highs of a palatial residence, where Louis Winthorpe III (Dan Aykroyd) is served fresh juice, coffee, and croissants in bed before receiving a shave and being provided a clean suit for the day, to the lows of bleaker streets, where homeless people sleep blanketed by newspapers or gather around a trash can fire. This marked contrast will soon come into play for Louis, though his usual high-class routines – including heading into his luxurious office to trade stocks on a whim, after which he heads to an exclusive club and then dines with glamorous fiancee Penelope Witherspoon (Kristin Holby) – can’t possibly prepare him for that complication. “People like this are a menace to decent society.”

“Can’t get around the old minimum wage, Mortimer.” Winthorpe works as the managing director for the ludicrously rich yet exceptionally miserly (and racist) brothers Randolph Duke (Ralph Bellamy) and Mortimer Duke (Don Ameche), commodity brokers who frequently debate whether or not success comes from heritage or environment. When street beggar Billy Ray Valentine (Eddie Murphy), who moves around seated on a wheeled box, much like the lead protagonist from “Porgy and Bess,” pretending to be legless and blind, stumbles into the presence of Duke and Duke, Randolph spies an opportunity for a wager. Believing that someone with such an unfortunate, poverty-ridden, crime-prone upbringing could have succeeded in life had it not been for his environment, he offers up a scenario for a scientific experiment of sorts. Since Mortimer insists that lineage dictates capability instead, they agree to orchestrate a switch that will find Billy Ray trading places with Louis to see who will thrive and who will fail.

“This kind of thing happens to me every week.” The initial swap is filled with lifestyle shock and disbelief; Valentine is rightly incredulous and suspicious, even if it’s all approached with a certain levity. From utilizing the typical manservant role (Denholm Elliott, superbly playing butler Coleman) and chauffeur (not unlike in “Arthur”), to enjoying a jacuzzi, perusing the pricey objects in his new apartment, spending cash in his old haunts, and throwing parties with barflies from his hood, he gets a momentary opportunity to revel in considerable excesses. Meanwhile, Louis’ stature becomes remarkably diminished, as he’s tossed in jail (charged with dealing angel dust), stripped, beaten, fired from his job, has his bank accounts frozen, and humiliated by prostitute Ophelia (Jamie Lee Curtis) – which results in him getting dumped by Penelope.

“Do you know who I am?” Following along with the rags-to-riches formula as opposing stations in life get flip-flopped (with virtually no surprises, save for the R-rated content and racism angle), there’s the addition of supreme manipulation by unfeeling, ruthless elites. Though it adds to the comedy, Murphy’s character adapts so quickly to his sudden lofty post – not only refusing to fall for schemes that might expose moral corruptions, but also understanding the task of buying and selling commodities (he’s unrealistically intelligent, perhaps, for this setup, which spends enough time to serve as something of an educational lesson about the industry) – that he essentially proves Randolph’s point. Basically, after he dons a suit, he’s a completely changed man, even if he remains moderately wary of how everything can be taken away just as swiftly.

Slightly more grounded is Louis’ downfall, during which he discovers that money molds friends and relationships in significant ways – a hard lesson for someone unaware of how his fortunes have shaped his wellbeing. Desperation for the woefully unprepared leads to extreme reactions and behaviors – including homicidal and suicidal actions, which might be the most realistic components of this screwball fairy tale. It’s never very serious otherwise, with John Landis directing, attempting to turn the straightforward, familiar premise into something with a more elaborate revenge scheme mixed into the finale (boasting a few cameos). Indeed, the characters engage in not only a needlessly complex dress-up charade (including completely unnecessary blackface), but also an overwrought costume sequence with an unconvincing, fake ape. By the end, the pacing is too slow and the humor spread too thin to sustain this trite script, even if its box office takings relate the opposite, boosting the careers of virtually the entire cast.

– Mike Massie