Eddie Murphy has a lot to be satisfied with.

A gifted mimic turned overnight stand-up star, famous since his teen years on “Saturday Night Live,” a ground-breaking African American superstar of the screen, for decades one of the biggest box office draws and one of the best paid actors ever, mentor and example to generations of Black comics and actors who followed him, idolized by millions, what’s he got to complain about?

At 64, he’s maintained a career that took him from Next Big Thing to Hottest Thing on Screen to Dad Comedies, making classics (“48 Hours,” “Trading Places”) and finding more recent critical acclaim (“Dream Girls,” “Dolemite is My Name”) that reminds us he’s overdue for a career achievement Oscar.

That’s the version of Eddie Murphy that he wants to you see in “Being Eddie,” self-satisfied. It’s an obviously Eddie-approved documentary about his life and career that editor-turned-first-time-doc-director Angus Wall filmed.

Eddie tells the story of his life — a glimpsed-over childhood, the father who left and the stepfather who supported him and even became the good-natured butt of onstage Eddie jokes about his drinking, his devotion to Richard Pryor and stand-up from the age of 13, his teenaged stardom and beyond.

He notes how he avoided the drug and alcohol downfall that took down so many of his idols and contemporaries, and friends, colleagues and his late brother Charlie Murphy back this up by confirming Eddie “was never the life of the party” — any party.

Director John Landis relates how Paramount had set up “Trading Places” for Richard Pryor, but “Richard set himself on fire,” Eddie jokes/explains. He speaks about the role then-Paramount exec Jeffrey Katzenberg had on starting his film career and “protecting me” from getting fired from “48 Hours,” his film debut, and Katzenberg confirms telling his fellow execs to be patient, because Eddie is “special.”

Murphy jokes about an entire older generation of Hollywood that suddenly wanted to meet him for dinner, drinks, what have you. Who knows what Yul Brynner had in mind when he invited Eddie home?

But as we revel in the anecdotes and see and hear Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Tracy Morgan, Arsenio Hall and others sing Murphy’s praises, it’s pretty obvious this is a life and career that has been sanitized for Eddie’s protection.

The more interesting Eddie is the one who recalls his infamous Peak Era Eddie on-stage bit of truth-to-power Oscar presentation speech back in 1988 — “Black people will not ride the caboose of society, and we will not bring up the rear anymore. And I want you to recognize us.” Murphy figures that’s the main reason he’s never gotten an Oscar, honorary or otherwise.

“Norbit?” Sure, that might have cost him the “Dream Girls” best supporting actor Oscar. But there was also the cavalcade of crap that came before that and for years after it. “Meet Dave,” anyone?

“My advice to young comics? Don’t ever play a rocket ship.”

He’s certain Hollywood holds a grudge the way he does — 35 years estranged from “Saturday Night Live” because David Spade joked “Look children, it’s a falling star! Make a wish” about “Vampire in Brooklyn,” one of the legions of ill-conceived dogs Murphy brought to the screen after his peak.

So there’s no Lorne Michael testimonial, no Walter Hill (director of “48 Hours” and Richard Pryor’s “Brewster’s Millions”), no Nick Nolte or any “Beverly Hills Cop” co-star here to speak about working with him.

It’s enlightening to hear Murphy assert and others back up the doors he opened when he took roles because “Nobody’s seen a Black guy” in this or that sort of on-screen part. That “Hollywood before Eddie” and Hollywood after him statement about his significance is undeniable.

He’s been canny about his career and image all along. Remember Muphy’s first big screen entrance? What song is he caterwauling in a prison cell in “48 Hours?” “Roxanne” by The Police. That’s a hip and white-American moviegoing audience approved choice of tune, something I noted at the time. Edgy Eddie was “safe” for Middle American moviegoers was the message he always sent.

Murphy wanders his Roman villa-sized $85 million Beverly Park mansion and tells us stories and it’s fun to see him opening up, even if he isn’t opening up that much. And we can’t help but notice the select group of co-stars and proteges (Rock, Chappelle, etc) who sing his praises. Even if Arsenio Hall has some interesting insights, he’s never shaken the “Eddie’s Lapdog” image he’s justly worn his entire life.

There’s lots of appreciation for Murphy’s stand-up documentaries “Raw” and “Delirious,” much of it from Chappelle and Morgan. But there’s no mention of the widely criticized homophobia Murphy threw out there in both those stand-up tours, something he has in common with Chappelle and Morgan, who’ve also gone for homophobic laughs, perhaps taking their cue from their idol.

Perhaps that’s one reason comic elder-statesman Jerry Seinfed says “The rules are just different for him.”

Murphy mentions his divorce in passing, shows off his new wife and “ten kids.” He leaves out the Spice Girl he had to be sued to make him admit he was her baby daddy. That “baby” is now a teen and just came out as transgender, by the way. He doesn’t talk about his infamous police stop for picking up a transgender prostitute named Shalimir.

Hell, Hugh Grant makes jokes about his similar arrest, and he’s not even a stand up comic. Think of how Murphy, who shows off ventriloquist dummies he had made of Richard Pryor and Bill Cosby for a possible stand-up “conversation” he never got around to staging, might relate his “real” and even embarrassing experiences on stage.

“Eddie Murphy telling a story made you feel like you were there,” Kevin Hart marvels.

So while his tribute to big brother Chair is touching, and it’s entertaining to hear what Murphy does tell us, the origins of his gift for voices and character creation (from “Gumby, dammit” on “SNL” to all those makeup-assisted roles he took in “The Nutty Professor,” “Norbit,” and “Coming to America”) and flattering for all these comics to lament that he hasn’t gone back and done some stand-up, “Being Eddie” never overcomes the “hagiography” label.

Murphy telling us which broke actor’s tombstone he paid for and which famous Black performers he “buried” (paid for their funeral) is righteous but self-serving. Having no contrary voices in this fawning film makes such “admissions” grating.

In the recent rush of comics lauded in bio-documentaries, “Being Eddie” simply isn’t on a par with “John Candy” I Like Me,” or “Pee Wee as Himself.” Let’s hope Eddie doesn’t wait until he’s dead for his story to fully be told.

Rating: R, profanity

Cast: Eddie Murphy, Dave Chappelle, Jerry Seinfeld, Tracee Ellis Ross, Chris Rock, Tracy Morgan, Arsenio Hall, Reginald Hudlin, Jeffrey Katzenberg, John Landis, Brian Grazer, Charlie Murphy and Richard Pryor.

Credits: Directed by Angus Wall. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:43