Detroit cop Eddie Murphy returns to the scene of his previous Beverly Hills invasion, with Judge Reinhold and John Ashton reprising as the law-enforcement inepts who follow him around. With all the glitz and fragmentation fashion-plate director Tony Scott (Top Gun) brings to this hyperactive sequel, it’s a wonder they didn’t call it Top Gun II. Scott descends from stratosphereland to tell the mundane story (it’s more literal remake than follow-up), but his razzle-dazzle images (backlit and burnished, every shot a potential advertising spread) are still in airhead heaven, with half the action played out on the sleek reflecting surfaces of automobile hoods and windshields, the other half in frenzied rushes of unreadable montage. It’s not a star vehicle in the usual sense (for which we can be thankful: Murphy’s smug put-down raps are wearing pretty thin), but it’s certainly vehicular, with red Ferraris, skidding patrol cars, and runaway cement mixers substituting for the flesh-and-blood performers Scott doesn’t want to use. It helps to be young, gifted, and inanimate in Scott’s high-gloss action world; it also helps to keep a can of Turtle Wax around. With Jurgen Prochnow, Brigitte Nielsen, Ronny Cox, Allen Garfield, and Dean Stockwell.