You People

If you told me ten years ago that we’d get a movie starring Eddie Murphy, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and Jonah Hill, I would have assumed it was a trillion-dollar blockbuster destined to be quoted for the next two decades. Instead, You People arrived on Netflix in early 2023, dominated the "Top 10" for exactly one week, sparked a frantic three-day discourse about a CGI kiss, and then effectively vanished into the digital ether.

I watched this while eating a bowl of cereal that had gone slightly soggy because I got distracted by a text about my car's registration, and honestly, that’s the perfect mood for this film: a bit soft around the edges, slightly distracting, and ultimately something you consume because it’s right there in front of you.

The Algorithm’s Ultimate Cringe-Fest

At its heart, You People is a 21st-century riff on Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, filtered through the lens of director Kenya Barris (the mind behind Black-ish) and Jonah Hill’s particular brand of awkward, stuttering vulnerability. Hill plays Ezra, a Jewish finance guy who dreams of podcasting full-time—the most 2023 character trait imaginable—who falls for Amira (Lauren London).

The setup is a classic comedy of errors, starting with a meet-cute involving a confused Uber ride that feels like a sketch that went on a minute too long. But the real meat of the movie isn't the romance; it’s the collision of their families. On one side, you have Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Shelley, Ezra’s mother, who is so desperate to be "progressive" that she treats Amira like a shiny new accessory. On the other, you have Eddie Murphy as Akbar, Amira’s stern, Nation of Islam-following father who views Ezra with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for someone trying to sell you a multi-level marketing scheme.

A Heavyweight Bout with No Winner

The casting here is legitimately insane. Seeing Eddie Murphy and Julia Louis-Dreyfus share the screen is a "pinch-me" moment for any comedy nerd. Murphy is doing his "subtle-scary" routine, where he says very little but makes Ezra (and the audience) sweat through his shirt. Louis-Dreyfus, meanwhile, is a master of the microaggression. She captures that specific, agonizing brand of white suburban over-compensation so well it actually made me want to hide under my couch.

The problem is that the script, co-written by Hill and Barris, often feels like a collection of op-eds rather than a narrative. The characters don't talk to each other; they explain their cultural perspectives at each other. There’s a scene at a family dinner involving a Kufi and a burnt silk cap that moves past "uncomfortable" and lands squarely in "I am physically recoiling." It feels like a Twitter thread come to life in the worst way possible.

Despite the heavy themes of racial and religious tension, the film works best when it lets its supporting cast run wild. Sam Jay, playing Ezra’s best friend Mo, is a total standout, delivering lines with a dry cynicism that feels much more "real" than the heightened drama of the central couple. Nia Long is also predictably excellent as Amira’s mother, Fatima, though the movie doesn't give her nearly enough to do besides looking disappointed in everyone else’s behavior.

The Ghost in the Machine

One reason You People felt so "disposable" to audiences is the way it was made. This is a prime example of "streaming-core" cinema. The cinematography is bright, flat, and looks like it was optimized for someone watching on an iPad while folding laundry. And then, there’s the elephant in the room: the ending.

If you followed the social media chatter at the time, you know about the "fake kiss." Due to COVID protocols or scheduling issues, the final romantic moment between Hill and Lauren London was created using CGI. Watching it now, it’s even more jarring than I remembered—the CGI kiss looks like two Sims glitching out during a wedding expansion pack. It’s a bizarre technical shortcut that serves as a metaphor for the film itself: it has all the components of a great movie, but they don't quite touch.

The film's obscurity is a byproduct of the era it was born into. In the 90s, this would have been a theatrical hit that lived on cable for years. In 2023, it was "content"—a buzz-heavy release designed to drive subscriptions, only to be buried by the next Friday’s thriller or true-crime docuseries. It’s worth a look for the powerhouse performances alone, but don't expect it to linger in your mind once the credits (and the next auto-play trailer) roll.

You People is a fascinating artifact of early 2020s culture—messy, loud, and deeply obsessed with how we perceive one another. While the comedic chemistry between the legends on screen is undeniable, the film often trips over its own desire to be "about something." It’s a decent enough way to kill two hours on a Sunday, but it’s a shame that such a massive collection of talent resulted in something that feels so fleeting. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a viral tweet: you’ll read it, maybe give it a "like," and forget it by tomorrow morning.