In this tepid futuristic comedy/adventure from Ron Underwood, the year is 2087, and Eddie Murphy (in desperate need of resurgence) plays the title ex-con-turned-nightclub-owner in an atmospherically controlled colony on the Moon called Little America. Things get shaking when a heavy (Joe Pantoliano) shows up and tells Pluto that he’ll sell the club for a cool 10 mill if he knows what’s good for him. Turns out that gambling is about to be abolished on Earth, so Little America is where the mob plans to muscle in on the action. Pluto, a smuggler by vocation, refuses to sell. What ensues is a series of on-the-run misadventures with Murphy trying to spark a laugh roll. He doesn’t; it’s gags like the Hilary Clinton mug on a big-denomination bill and Randy Quaid as the outdated, happy-go-lucky android bodyguard that give the film what sizzle it has.

Underwood has seen finer days with less to work with (Tremors and City Slickers); the screenplay from Neil Cuthbert feels lackadaisical in his hands and loses its playfulness early on. Murphy too, though amicable, at times appears emotionally somnambulant. Rosario Dawson adds a dash of pep as the waitress turned love interest, but it’s Quaid’s campy droid who lands the cinematic moonshots. (96 minutes)