If you go to see The Pink Panther this week expecting Steve Martin to duplicate Peter Sellers' performance from the original movie series, then you are doomed for disappointment.
The key to watching this new version of Pink Panther is to remember that it's based on the idea of the original and is not an exact remake. Martin draws upon his own comedic abilities in his portrayal of Inspector Clouseau. He tries to update Clouseau to suit the modern audience with a few sexual innuendoes and slapstick comedy.
Martin is most successful with his use of physical comedy: falling, swinging from doors, dancing all over the place and attacking curtains looking for hidden persons. One funny scene is when Clouseau and his stoic police sidekick, Gendarme Gilbert Ponton (Jean Reno), decked in some of the most horrible outfits ever, pretend to be back-up dancers for international pop star Xania (Beyoncé Knowles).
Seeing Martin thrash around almost makes one forget that The Pink Panther is supposed to have a plot. Clouseau is supposed to be solving the murder of Yves Gluant, a French soccer coach who was killed on the field after a game and robbed of his Pink Panther diamond ring. But the plot takes a backseat to watching Martin trying to reinvent Clouseau.
Martin is definitely no Sellers, and perhaps realizing this, he and his co-writers set this Pink Panther film up as a prequel to the original series. It's hard to believe that it's a prequel, however, when Clouseau uses a cell phone, the Internet and a digital camera. He even tries to take Viagra during a night alone with Xania -- but don't worry, there's no creepy Knowles-Martin tongue wrestling in this film.
Many of the jokes get played out pretty quickly. How many times can an audience tolerate stereotypical jokes about the French? How many bicycle accidents does it take to make an audience laugh? The answer to both questions is few. Yes, we laugh at French accents and seeing cyclists fall off their bikes but enough already.
Martin deserves to be commended for trying to fill the large shoes of Sellers, who sculpted Inspector Clouseau into one of the most hilarious characters ever captured on film. Few actors would have dared to make this attempt. Unfortunately, Martin falls victim to Hollywood's continuous mistake of rehashing old films for a new generation of moviegoers. Even when trying to breathe new life into the old series, Martin fails to really mold Clouseau into his own memorable character. His French accent, meant to be funny, becomes more annoying by the minute. A film is a failure when all you want to do is turn the sound off and watch the actors' physical antics.
Something good might come out of this Pink Panther, though. Perhaps the Hollywood film industry will finally take the hint that an audience wants more creative and unique films rather than their favorite actors in remakes. Maybe The Pink Panther will usher in Steve Martin being funny again and convince Beyoncé to take acting lessons that will allow her to actually become a character -- you can't ride on your sex appeal forever.
The greatest gift of all would be no Pink Panther 2 in the near future. All the shameless plugging on "Saturday Night Live," as Martin did for this film, could not convince me to see another one. It's time to leave this cat alone and stop dogging moviegoers with films that don't rise to the brilliance of their predecessors.
If you find yourself longing for a taste of the Pink Panther, then do yourself a favor -- download the theme song or rent one of the original films.
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