Panther Remake a Crime
The world does not need a remake of “The Pink Panther.” The 1963 Blake Edwards’ classic starring Peter Sellers as the immortally bumbling French detective Inspector Clouseau is about as good as slapstick comedy gets. In fact, the only thing better than the original might just be the first sequel “A Shot in the Dark,” the two together providing more gut-busting hilarity than every single Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell and David Spade comedy combined.
A remake is what we get, however, and whether it was asked for or not it’s still hitting theaters today. In all fairness, some of the pedigree here isn’t half bad. Steve Martin takes the reins as Clouseau, rewriting the screenplay himself along with “Stripes” and “Meatballs” scribe Len Blum. In supporting roles, Kevin Kline, Jean Reno and Emily Mortimer make appearances, while Beyoncé Knowles shimmies across the screen as a sultry chanteuse with more on her mind than just a song. Heck, even Clive Owen pops up briefly, his self-depreciating and charming cameo sure to get all those upset he’s not the new James Bond furious and dismayed all over again.
But it is still a pointless remake. Like the original, this one revolves around Clouseau’s attempts to solve a murder and decipher the theft of the priceless Pink Panther diamond. Behind his back, the inspector’s scheming boss Dreyfuss (Kline) watches in glee as the detective falters, waiting to solve the crimes himself and reap the rewards of success. The thing is, Martin and Blum’s take on this already thin premise is to make it even thinner than Edwards and Maurice Richlin’s original, and even at 90 minutes all involved have a terrible time trying to keep an audience’s interest engaged up until the climax.
Not that director Shawn Levy helps. The man behind “Cheaper by the Dozen” and “Just Married” has a leaden touch, handling his actors and their situations with all the tenderness of a swift kick to the nuts. For some people that kind of humor is their cup of tea, and with a smorgasbord of groin hits and fart jokes this crowd will hardly be disappointed. For me, while I freely admit some of this is funny in moderation, too much just gives me a headache, and by the time things came to a close my head was splitting in two.
Still, “The Pink Panther” circa 2006 isn’t all bad. Martin, while working far harder at this than Sellers ever did, is nearly divine as Clouseau. He hasn’t done this sort of thing since “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,” and even there it was only for brief bits here and there. In fact, a person has to go back to the star’s theatrical debut, 1979’s “The Jerk,” to see Martin in all his constant moronic slapstick nincompoop glory and I wouldn’t be being honest if I didn’t say he tickled my funny bone more than a time or two here.
Better, Martin and Reno have fabulous chemistry, the two playing off one another as if they had been doing it for the entire careers. They’re a wonderful team, so hysterical I literally felt like I could have peed my pants. One bit involving full bodysuit disguises and some improvisational modern dancing is particularly good, while the look on Reno's face after Martin engages in some solitary good cop-bad cop interrogating (which is uproarious, by the way) borders on brilliance.
The rest is as hit or miss as these things can get. Knowles has nothing to do and shows the comedic timing of a turtle, while Kline looks like he’d rather be anyplace else than in this movie. Only Mortimer comes out looking like a star, and while I’ll freely admit her French lilt needs some work, her ability to make my laugh certainly does not. She’s wondrous, and my only complaint is that she’s not in the film near enough.
As nice as the highs are, that still doesn’t change the central problem or the question lingering on everyone’s mind: Why bother to remake “The Pink Panther”? Sure it’s got a great Henri Mancini theme (remixed sensationally by Christophe Beck), and those opening cartoon titles are as good as ever, but they alone don’t constitute a reason to dip back into the well. What it comes down to, unsurprisingly, is money, and the thought a Hollywood studio has about getting their hands on yours. Pity, because whether the suits greenlighting things like this realize it or not, the fact that they’ve sacrificed both art and creativity in pursuit of a dollar isn’t just a shame, it’s a crime.
Film Rating: êê (out of 4)
