The Pickup – Film Review

Tim Story’s The Pickup, starring Eddie Murphy, Keke Palmer, and Pete Davidson, is an action-comedy-heist film that seems to want to be a little bit of everything—funny, thrilling, romantic, and even emotionally poignant. But rather than blending these elements into a cohesive and compelling movie, the film stumbles over its own ambitions, ultimately collapsing under the weight of clashing tones, underdeveloped characters, and inconsistent pacing. Despite a promising premise and a cast with proven comedic and dramatic chops, The Pickup is mostly a frustrating exercise in missed opportunities.

This had all the ingredients for a fun popcorn flick: a veteran armoured truck driver just days from retirement, a rookie partner who’s all gas and no brakes, and a seductive criminal with a personal vendetta. But what could have been a slick, tightly-wound heist story is instead drawn out into an overlong, tonally jumbled affair that never quite figures out what kind of movie it wants to be.

Eddie Murphy plays Russell Pierce, the classic “one last job” protagonist who just wants to retire in peace and open a quaint bed-and-breakfast with his wife, played by a sorely underutilized Eva Longoria. Murphy brings his usual charm and world-weary gravitas to the role, but the screenplay never gives him enough complexity or depth to make Russell’s arc feel emotionally grounded. Much of Russell’s internal conflict is conveyed through on-the-nose dialogue rather than real character development.

On the other end of the spectrum is Pete Davidson as Travis Stolly, a loud, impulsive man-child whose comic relief antics often derail the film’s momentum. Davidson is undeniably charismatic and can be funny in the right context, but The Pickup leans too hard into his improv-style delivery, resulting in a character who feels more like an SNL sketch than a real person. His chemistry with Murphy is sporadically effective but never consistent, largely because the film can’t decide whether to treat their relationship as heartfelt mentorship or slapstick odd-couple hijinks.

Keke Palmer’s Zoe is perhaps the film’s most compelling presence. She imbues the character with a cool confidence and a sly charm that makes her both believable and magnetic as a cunning heist architect. Unfortunately, the screenplay does her no favors. Her motivations—rooted in personal revenge against a corrupt casino—are hinted at, but never explored in a meaningful way. The emotional stakes feel shallow, and what could have been a nuanced antiheroine performance ends up sidelined in favor of chaotic set pieces and comic interludes.

Perhaps The Pickup’s most glaring issue is its inconsistent tone. Tim Story, known for films like Ride Along and Think Like a Man, has experience blending action and comedy, but here the balance feels off-kilter. Scenes intended to be thrilling—such as the armoured truck ambush or the climactic casino heist—are frequently undercut by awkward humor or jarring tonal shifts.

Instead of escalating tension, the film often diffuses it with misplaced punchlines or goofy antics, particularly from Davidson’s Travis. The result is a story that never quite builds momentum. The action sequences are functional but uninspired, relying heavily on CGI-heavy vehicle chases and generic shootouts that lack both style and clarity. There’s a moment involving a crossbow that could’ve been memorable if it weren’t buried under a series of cringe-inducing one-liners.

The comedy itself is wildly uneven. At its best, there are some decent verbal exchanges and physical comedy moments—most of which come from Murphy reacting with deadpan disdain to various things. But more often, the jokes feel forced or recycled, with little regard for pacing or character logic. The film doesn’t trust the audience enough to find humor in subtler beats, opting instead for loud, broad comedy that feels dated and repetitive.

In a character-driven caper, much of the success hinges on the dynamic between the leads. But despite the presence of three capable performers, The Pickup never establishes a strong trio chemistry. The budding romantic tension between Zoe and Travis feels rushed and unearned, hinging more on plot convenience than emotional resonance. Likewise, the mentor-mentee angle between Russell and Travis tries to hit familiar beats—disappointment, betrayal, reluctant respect—but it all plays out with a paint-by-numbers quality.

Longoria’s Natalie is little more than a narrative device, her role relegated to brief check-in scenes that remind us of Russell’s retirement dream. It’s a shame, considering the potential for a grounded emotional anchor in a film that desperately needs one.

Even Zoe’s supposed vendetta against the casino—which should be the thematic spine of the film—is handled so superficially that it feels like an afterthought. Her motivations never fully land, and by the time the big heist arrives, the audience is asked to invest in a climax that hasn’t been properly earned.

The film’s final act, which should be a thrilling crescendo of tension and reversals, is more confusing than captivating. The big heist unfolds with too many moving parts, rushed reveals, and last-minute twists that come out of nowhere. There’s little payoff for the emotional stakes that were half-heartedly set up earlier in the film, and while the idea of using an armoured truck as a Trojan horse is clever in theory, it’s executed in a way that feels muddled and implausible.

Instead of sticking the landing, The Pickup fumbles through a chaotic conclusion that tries to leave the door open for a sequel—but doesn’t do enough to make us want one. Characters walk away changed, supposedly, but their growth feels more like a screenwriting checkbox than the result of real transformation.

The Pickup is the kind of film that feels like it was assembled in a studio boardroom: “Eddie Murphy, Pete Davidson, Keke Palmer, a heist, some laughs—what could go wrong?” The answer, unfortunately, is a lot. Despite flashes of charm and the occasional chuckle, the movie is largely weighed down by tonal inconsistency, underwritten characters, and flat direction.

It’s not without entertainment value—Murphy fans may find moments of nostalgic pleasure, and Palmer gives it her all—but as a heist comedy, it lacks the finesse, style, and narrative cohesion needed to elevate it beyond mediocrity. If this film had picked a lane—whether comedy, thriller, or character drama—it might’ve delivered something more focused. Instead, The Pickup tries to do it all and ends up dropping the ball.