Can anyone remember the last time comedian Eddie Murphy was actually funny? No, voicing an animated donkey with a love for waffles doesn’t count. I’m talking about Murphy debating boxing greats in “Coming toAmerica” or hustling his way into a swanky suite in “Beverly Hills Cop.” Hell, I’d even take him parodying Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood during his “Saturday Night Live” days if it would help me forget “Norbit.” Wherever you were in the 80s, chances are you were laughing at something Murphy was doing on screen or on stage. Nowadays, you’d probably have better luck being entertained by his older brother Charlie.

If you believe the hype, however, Murphy’s return to glory comes at full force with “Tower Heist,” a comedy crime caper that originally started as an idea in 2005 for Murphy to team up with a host of other black comedians including Chris Tucker, Dave Chappelle and Martin Lawrence. When that overly-ambitious idea fell through, “Tower Heist” became a poor man’s version of “Ocean’s 11” and even enlists “Ocean’s” screenwriter Ted Griffin and supporting actor Casey Affleck. But “Ocean’s” this is not. And while it’s true that Murphy provides his best comedy outing since 1996’s remake of “The Nutty Professor” (I still don’t understand the love for “Bowfinger”), he’s not given as much screen time as you’d think for someone who’s billed so high. Honestly, this is a Ben Stiller movie and Murphy is just coming along for the ride.

Still, the ride has its moments with a solid cast who could easy make an impact off the bench in lieu of George Clooney, Brad Pitt or Matt Damon. In fact, the diverse makeup of characters and personalities is what makes the movie casually fun, at least for the first half of the heist. In the film, a group of hotel employees plot to take back the money they lost in a Ponzi scheme orchestrated by Arthur Shaw (Alan Alda), a Wall Street billionaire and tenant in the high-rise. With little experience in thievery, the team, which includes Stiller, Affleck, Michael Peña (“The Lincoln Lawyer”), and Gabourey Sidibe (“Precious”), recruit “Slide” Dalphael (Murphy), a common criminal with the know-how to exact revenge. Also joining in is actor Matthew Broderick (“Election”) as a former Wall Street investor who goes bankrupt because of Shaw’s shady business ethics.

With every cog in place, you’d think this comedy machine, even directed by industry tool Brett Ratner (“Rush Hour 3”), would run a little smoother. While the setup works well enough, the heist itself isn’t very creative or executed on the page very well. What’s left is an amusing team of misfits bumbling around aimlessly in search of a disappointing payoff more ridiculous than a humanitarian award named after Bernie Madoff.

To a lesser extent, this might be a comeback for Murphy, but until he can stand front and center as the leading man he once was, it’s still difficult to forgive him for the last 15 years (“Meet Dave,” “The Adventures of Pluto Nash,” “I Spy”). Hosting the Academy Awards this coming February just might be what he needs to prove “Tower Heist” wasn’t a fluke.

While watching a scruffy Joaquin Phoenix drop lyrics on a club stage to a fairly disinterested crowd in his new film “I’m Still Here,” it’s difficult not to think about the scene in Spike Jonze’s “Being John Malkovich” where a possessed Malkovich calls his agent to tell him he no longer wants to be an actor. Instead, he’d like to be known as a puppeteer.

The occupational switch was just as exaggerated when Phoenix revealed to the world in 2008 that he would retire from acting to pursue a career as a hip-hop artist. It was the kind of news one would usually snicker at and disregard if it wasn’t for a hint of believability stemming from Phoenix’s awkward exchange during a broadcast interview with late-night host David Letterman last year.

Whether we’re watching a mockumentary or a documentary in “I’m Still Here,” Phoenix deserves credit for either having the stamina to stay in character these last two years or having the backbone to take the ridicule that’s sure to follow him for the rest of his career if he was actually serious about becoming a rapper.

At best, “I’m Still Here” is a curiosity piece for those who have been following the Phoenix circus this entire time. From a broader perspective, it’s actually quite depressing when you think about how much time he wasted on what is more than likely just an elaborate, artistic hoax. Instead, he could have actually been shooting something less irrelevant.

That’s not to say “I’m Still Here” was void of all value. The idea to dissect the pretentiousness of celebrity is laid out nicely. Phoenix works as the unstable subject because he doesn’t seem like the type of person that would come as easily unhinged as he does here. In the film, Phoenix, who was coming off an Oscar nomination for “Walk the Line” at the start of production, announces to his inner circle that he “doesn’t want to play the character of Joaquin” and “doesn’t want to be misunderstood anymore.”

From here we watch Phoenix attempt to reinvent himself in the rap game. The first half of the film is Phoenix becoming increasingly frustrated as Sean “P-Diddy” Combs, who Phoenix wants to produce his first album, can’t find the time to sit down for a meeting. Combs is convincing enough as are others who come face to face with Phoenix during his transformation. Comedian Ben Stiller show up in a cameo hoping to talk Phoenix in taking a part in his new film “Greenberg.” Even actor Edward James Olmos, known for his motivational speaking skills, comes in to give some sound philosophical advice to his young fellow actor.

Whether it’s fake or not isn’t even really important as the film continues to trudge along in the second half. By that time, Phoenix and all his scenes of mumbling, emotional outbursts, and self reflection wear thin. It would have come a lot sooner if everyone involved wasn’t so committed. Even then “I’m Still Here” becomes the exact thing it was satirizing in the first place: a self-important product of Hollywood.

It would be impossible to dismiss Michael Winterbottom’s “The Killer Inside Me” wholeheartedly because of the solid albeit sometimes babbly performance by lead actor Casey Affleck or the stylish film noir environment created by Dutch cinematographer Marcel Zyskind (“A Might Heart”), but what little substance and emotional pull the controversial picture has is quickly lost even before Winterbottom’s intentions are fully revealed.

In “The Killer Inside Me,” Affleck, who earned an Oscar nomination for playing another killer in 2007’s “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” stars as Lou Ford, a well-respected sheriff in the 1950s who is suspected in a string of killings in a small West Texas town. The murders begin with Joyce Lakeland (Jessica Alba), a known prostitute who Lou is having a sadomasochistic affair with after demanding she leave town.

Thorough flashbacks, we find that Lou’s mental problems stem from scarring events he experienced as a young boy. When he meets Joyce, who is open to violent sexual encounters, things start boiling over. Left waiting in the wings is Lou’s wife Amy (Kate Hudson), who is clueless to her husband’s indiscretions and psychopathic tendencies.

Intertwined in the sex, secrets, and sadism is a weak narrative about blackmail and corruption. Nothing, however, is as remotely interesting as trying to pin down what director Winterbottom is actually doing when he turns these curious fetishes into scenes of ultra-violent rage. If these scenarios are supposed to make viewers feel uncomfortable, they succeed. If they’re supposed to answer questions about Lou’s vicious character, they don’t.

What we’re left with is a thriller without much suspense and characterizations that fall by the wayside in favor of brutality that offers little to the script at hand. A film should never be penalized for being “too violent” especially if it enhances elements of the story. “The Killer Inside Me,” however, simply flaunts its ability to disturb, which makes it seem desperate to evoke some kind of sensation more than anything.