Eddie Murphy was the biggest star on the planet in 1990. No, seriously. He wasn't just a movie star; he was a cultural phenomenon who could greenlight a project just by sneezing in the direction of a studio executive. So, when Paramount decided to bring back Reggie Hammond and Jack Cates for Another 48 Hrs., everyone expected a massive, era-defining explosion of cinema. What we got was something a bit more complicated, a bit more chaotic, and frankly, a bit of a mess.
It’s been over three decades since Walter Hill took us back to the streets of San Francisco. Watching it now, the movie feels like a time capsule of a very specific Hollywood transition. The grit of the 1970s was being sanded down by the high-gloss excess of the 90s.
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The Trouble with Catching Lightning Twice
Sequels are hard.
Comedy sequels are harder.
Action-comedy sequels?
They’re almost impossible.
The original 48 Hrs. worked because of the friction. You had Nick Nolte, looking like he’d been dragged through a gravel pit, playing against a young, hungry Eddie Murphy who was improvising his way into the history books. By the time Another 48 Hrs. rolled around, that hunger had changed. Murphy was now a mogul. He had a $9 million paycheck—which was astronomical for the time—and a lot more say in how the film was shaped.
People often forget that the sequel basically repeats the plot of the first film, almost beat for beat. Reggie is getting out of prison (again). Jack needs his help to find a mysterious criminal mastermind (again). They have 48 hours to do it (well, duh). But the tone shifted. The first movie was a neo-noir with jokes; the second felt like a blockbuster trying to justify its own existence through sheer volume and body count.
What Really Happened in the Editing Room?
If you’ve ever watched Another 48 Hrs. and felt like some scenes just... end abruptly, you aren't imagining things. The production was notorious.
Reports from the era, including insights from director Walter Hill himself, suggest the original cut of the movie was significantly longer—somewhere around 145 minutes. Paramount, terrified of a long runtime and wanting to maximize the number of daily screenings, allegedly took a chainsaw to the footage. They hacked it down to a lean 95 minutes.
That’s fifty minutes of story gone.
Poof.
This explains why the "Iceman" reveal feels so underwhelming. The mystery elements of the film were sacrificed on the altar of pacing. We lost character beats, subplots, and the slow-burn tension that made the 1982 original a masterpiece of the genre. Frank McRae, who played the shouting Captain Haden in the first film, reportedly had his entire role in the sequel deleted except for a brief, uncredited cameo. Think about that. An entire character arc, gone because the studio wanted more screenings per day.
The Chemistry Still Simmers
Despite the butchered editing, the movie isn't a total wash. Honestly, Nolte and Murphy still have "it."
Jack Cates is even more disgruntled in this outing. He’s facing prison time, his career is in the toilet, and he’s still driving that trashed Cadillac. Nolte plays it with a weary, cigarette-strained desperation that feels genuine. On the other side, Reggie Hammond is trying to get his money back. He’s flashier, more arrogant, and clearly modeled after Murphy’s own growing public persona.
The scene where Reggie listens to "Roxanne" by The Police in his jail cell is a direct callback to the first film, and while it's a bit of "fan service" before that term even existed, it works. It reminds us why we liked these guys. They don't like each other, but they need each other. That’s the core of the buddy-cop trope that this franchise helped invent.
The Violence and the Visuals
Walter Hill is a master of the "tough guy" aesthetic. In Another 48 Hrs., he leans heavily into the kinetic action of the 90s. The bus flip sequence? Incredible. The shootout at the desert roadside attraction? It’s loud, it’s bloody, and it’s expertly choreographed.
But there’s a coldness to it.
The original film had a certain soulfulness amidst the grit. The sequel feels more like a mechanical exercise in action filmmaking. The villains, led by Andrew Divoff as the biker Cherry Ganz (brother of the first film's villain), are menacing but lack the terrifying, unpredictable edge that James Remar brought to the original. They feel like video game bosses rather than actual threats.
Critical Reception vs. Box Office Reality
Critics were not kind. They saw the "rinse and repeat" nature of the script and called it out. Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert both gave it "thumbs down," noting that it lacked the spark of the original.
But here’s the thing: audiences didn't care.
Another 48 Hrs. was a box office hit. It pulled in over $150 million worldwide. In 1990, that was a massive win. It proved that the Murphy-Nolte pairing was bulletproof, even if the script was paper-thin. It’s a classic example of a "critic-proof" movie. People wanted to see Eddie Murphy being Eddie Murphy, and the film delivered exactly that.
Why It Still Matters Today
We talk a lot about the "Death of the Mid-Budget Movie" now. Everything is either a $200 million Marvel epic or a $5 million indie horror flick. Another 48 Hrs. represents a middle ground that barely exists anymore. It was a high-stakes, star-driven action movie that relied on charisma and practical stunts rather than CGI.
It also serves as a cautionary tale about studio interference. When we look at the fragmented narrative of the film, we see a precursor to the "Snyder Cut" era. Fans have been clamoring for years for the "Hill Cut" of the movie, hoping to see those 50 lost minutes. Sadly, most reports suggest that footage is likely lost or sitting in a vault where it will never see the light of day.
The Enduring Legacy of Reggie Hammond
Reggie Hammond changed how Black characters were portrayed in action movies. He wasn't the sidekick; he was the engine. He was smarter than the cops, better dressed, and always three steps ahead. Even in a flawed sequel like Another 48 Hrs., that legacy remains intact.
The film is a relic of a time when San Francisco was the go-to location for gritty detective stories and when movie stars were bigger than the franchises they inhabited. It’s loud, it’s messy, it’s occasionally brilliant, and it’s deeply flawed.
Basically, it’s a Walter Hill movie.
How to Revisit the Franchise Properly
If you're planning a rewatch or checking these out for the first time, don't just jump into the sequel. The experience is much richer if you look at the evolution of the genre.
- Watch the 1982 original first. Pay attention to the pacing and the silence. It’s a much "quieter" film than you remember.
- Look for the deleted scenes. While the full 145-minute cut isn't available, various TV edits and fan sites have documented where the cuts occurred. It helps make sense of the Iceman plot.
- Compare it to Beverly Hills Cop. It's fascinating to see how Murphy's performance in Another 48 Hrs. differs from Axel Foley. One is a prankster; the other is a con man with a chip on his shoulder.
- Check out Walter Hill’s other work. To understand the style of the sequel, you need to see The Warriors or The Driver. Hill isn't trying to make a comedy; he's making a western in a city.
The best way to enjoy the film today is to embrace the chaos. Stop worrying about the plot holes—they're big enough to drive a Greyhound bus through anyway. Just enjoy the banter, the glass shattering, and the sight of two actors who, for better or worse, defined a decade of cinema.
Go grab the 4K restoration if you can. The neon lights of the San Francisco night look better than they ever did on VHS, and the soundtrack hits way harder. It might not be the masterpiece the first one was, but as far as 90s action goes, it’s a ride worth taking one more time.