THE FUNNY PROFESSOR

By RICHARD SCHICKEL

Once upon a time, a 153-lb. chemistry teacher named Julius Kelp wanted to grow big and strong, or anyway be smooth and cool--sort of like Frank Sinatra on a bad ego day--and in his lab he concocted a formula that permitted him to realize that dubious dream. Thus was The Nutty Professor, central work in the Jerry Lewis oeuvre, born.

Once upon a more recent time, a 400-lb. biochemist named Sherman Klump confronted the opposite problem. He wanted to shrink and have sculpted pecs, or anyway be hot and hip--sort of like, well, Eddie Murphy on speed--and after a little genetic engineering, he realized that somewhat less woeful wish. Thus was a remake, central to the hope of restoring Murphy to the core of our comic consciousness, born.

The only problem with that scenario is the original scenario. The Nutty Professor was never really a comedy. Directed and co-written by Lewis in his "total filmmaker" phase, it mostly projected the comic's disastrous desire to morph his gloriously geeky anarchist into a soulful clown. Murphy, abetted by director Tom Shadyac and a whole raft of writers, cannot entirely escape the curious blend of aspiration and sloppiness that marked the earlier film.

But Murphy, happily, is something Lewis never was: a comic actor of astonishing range. He is able to invest his Professor Klump with an endearing dignity, give his lounge lizard alter ego, Buddy Love, an alligator's bite and then go on from there to play Klump's grandma. Also his mother, father and brother.

If Lewis spoiled his 1963 film by aiming toward empyrean realms, Murphy saves his by heading straight down to earthiness. When the Klumps--gluttons all, and afflicted with a full range of noisy mental and digestive disturbances--gather for dinner, they (Or should we say he, since Murphy is playing all but one of them?) constitute the funniest comedy ensemble in recent memory. This is an American family with only one value: tell the vulgar truth about everything, be it sex, talk shows or the price of airline tickets. They are particularly choleric about our obsession with calories. Nothing green and leafy is permitted at their groaning board, and exercise consists largely of lurching for seconds.

Credit is due the makeup and special-effects people for brilliantly hiding the seams in these scenes. But more is due Murphy for mixing and matching five terrific stand-up routines, while he's sitting down--and eating. For this he more than earns our forbearance as he works his way through the rest of the movie's routine business. Not to mention our hopes for a full recovery from his long career swoon. It's good to see him sitting up and--shall we say?--taking nourishment.

--By Richard Schickel