By the time the sequel to a remake comes about, chances are the “new” property has successfully distinguished itself from the originals. That is, unless the remake’s sequel is a remake of the sequel to the original which was itself remade – see? Otherwise, it’s an opportunity for a entirely distinct continuity, emphasizing things differently than before.
So it is with The Pink Panther 2 – the only time this franchise has succumbed to the non-decision of a numbered title. The second Pink Panther, as opposed to the first Pink Panther, the second Pink Panther to which The Pink Panther 2 is its second…okay, the Steve Martin movie from 2006. Audiences then were all too happy to compare Martin’s portrayal of Inspector Clouseau to the immortal Peter Sellers, despite Martin’s best efforts to distinguish himself through new interpretations of old gags. The Pink Panther 2 embraces Clouseau as Martin has made him, and does something which is very distinctly a sequel to The Pink Panther ’06 edition.
Some of that film’s central new gags get reworked and massaged in the 2009 sequel, and some of the unusual structure of the ’06 Panther is also repeated, with minor variations. Of course, Martin’s Clouseau remains as he was previously, a monumentally klutzy French police officer with legitimate detection skills. In fact, Martin highlights the specific vices and virtues of the new Clouseau. On the bad side, he is a jerkass, egotistical, racist, sexist, is this actually meant as a parody of something? On the good side, this Clouseau is smart and has emotions, affording the attempt for legitimate drama. This is a bizarre combination, and the Martin version is more complex, and thus less successful (though not bad).
The Pink Panther 2 opens with the crime spree of a sophisticated gentleman jewel thief, the Phant- no, wait, the Tornado. This is how they can maintain an Edwards-style movie without directly conjuring up Sir Charles Lytton, and all the baggage attached to him.
Anyway, stolen: the Magna Karta, the Shroud of Turin, the Imperial Sword. A Dream Team of elite international detectives is being assembled in response. On top of the victimized nations of England, Italy and Japan, France is also fronting a detective, because in the Pink Panther world, France is the center of the universe (same thing France itself believes). Representing the Gauls, as though you could not guess this…Clouseau!
Clouseau’s superior Inspector Dreyfus does not like this, and yet…and yet Dreyfus takes it all in relative stride, never really serving as the chief butt of Clouseau’s antics. And I must mention, Dreyfus is no longer played by Kevin Kline, but now by John Cleese. (Should a Pink Panther 3 come about, I anticipate either Michael Palin or Jamie Lee Curtis, maintaining this Fish Called Wanda connection.) Naturally, Cleese is a remarkably funny man (see the aforementioned farce, as well as Monty Python and “Fawlty Towers”), yet he does very little in The Pink Panther 2. That’s no surprise, though, as Cleese’s recent work showcases more Rat Races and fewer Holy Grails.
Reducing Dreyfus’ victimization is one way in which the new, post-Edwardsian Pink Panther is different from its predecessors. Frankly, these remakes have little use for the man. In 2, at least, that’s because there are many high-toned and serious lawmen more readily available to receive Clouseau’s chicanery…
Joining Clouseau with the world’s finest minds is an inspired idea, and one grows gleeful to imagine how Blake Edwards might’ve used such a notion to fashion a grand pastiche of other detective fiction forms…sort of like a Murder By Death, in fact, which also featured Sellers (as a racist caricature). But the Dream Team does not serve that purpose, as they are simply here to be the straight men against Clouseau.
Let’s see, serving England is Inspector Randall Pepperidge – played by Alfred Molina, of Spider-Man 2 and Raiders of the Lost Ark (yup, he’s in that). In other words, an immensely talented thespian.
From Italy, there is Vicenzo Brancaleone – Andy Garcia, of The Untouchables, Ocean’s Eleven, the good thing about The Godfather: Part III. Another very strong actor, known for his commanding tough guy roles.
Japan fronts Kenju Mazutu – Yuki Matsuzaki, of…actually not much else. Oh well, two outa three ain’t bad.
The point I’m getting at here is these’re mostly some powerhouse performers. It is not unexpected then that such dramatists aren’t best served playing 5th, 6th and 7th bananas in a slapstick comedy aimed at the kiddies. They’re quite decent in their roles, surely, but…Okay, these guys, John Cleese, more to come…? The Pink Panther 2’s cast is ridiculously overqualified, which paradoxically makes the film look worse than it might without ‘em.
As a sequel, 2 is overstuffed with characters, which it must juggle with great care in the same way as Martin does countless wine bottles – in a restaurant destruction scene which is in isolation a wonderful example of Martin’s physical comedy. Taking screen time away from the aforementioned thespians are certain returning members of the new millennium Panther pack: Like Jean Reno as “almost-Cato” Gilbert Ponton…
The old “Cato beats up Clouseau” gag was already diluted, but at least Martin (who wrote this movie too, let us now know) finds an unexplored outlet for something similar: Ponton’s sons take the Cato-esque role in Reno’s stead, for an extended assault upon the beloved bumbler. This isolated scene is a far less graceful example of slapstick, and a point in the film’s disfavor. Otherwise, Reno exists to fuel a non-starting subplot concerning his own wife, there mostly to justify having France’s biggest badass on board.
Actually, there’s another reason for this wife plot. It parallels Clouseau’s own love story, with his long-suffering secretary Nicole Durant (returning Emily Mortimer). Herein is The Pink Panther 2’s primary dramatic thread, to document the rise, fall and rise of the Clouseau/Nicole relationship. It still seems weird to treat Clouseau with such seriousness, surely a sop to satisfy the less anarchically-minded Hollywood producers.
The plot is nothing unique – it ostensibly concerns the hunt for the Tornado, for as little as I’ve said about that. The romance is equally standard, in that each partner is tempted away by an outside force. In Nicole’s case, that’d be Vicenzorancananonilioneicconei…er, Andy Garcia! Which lets him play his “Italian seducer” schtick whilst Alfred Molina stands unused on the sidelines.
In Clouseau’s case, his temptation comes from –
Well, she’s no Claudia Cardinale. However, Aishwarya Rai [Bachchan] (playing Sonia Solandres) is the most beautiful woman in all of Bollywood, here attempting a crossover away from films like Devdas and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. As I cannot name another English language film of Rai’s without reference to Wikipedia, I shall remain silent as to how successful that attempt has been.
The late introduction of Sonia Solandres as a non-national member of the Dream Team sends up red flags – at least, to a viewer seasoned by mysteries. She’s here as the best-selling author about the Tornado – more red flags! Her intro even occurs right around the same time that the Pink Panther has been stolen, so…
Ah, you know it couldn’t be a Pink Panther without the Pink Panther, now the highly-prized symbol of all of France, rather than simply Jason Stratham’s personal jewelry – such inter-entry discontinuity is exceedingly familiar in this franchise. It too is missing, Clouseau has a further cause in his investigation, and…Wait, wait, I was about to say something in regards to Clouseau’s nascent intelligence, but I’ll do as the film and save that for the end.
The Dream Team follows their leads from one set piece to another, meaning a chance for the film to invent random bits of silliness. Excuse plots are the Pink Panther bread and butter, always have been. In this endeavor, new director Harald Zwart is no Blake Edwards (Zwart’s best film to date is the Karate Kid remake), but neither is he a Shawn Levy. He’s far better than Shawn Levy, in that Zwart has an actual sense for comedy. He even uses proscenium, which is very much in accord with the Edwards approach!
With such a helmer, we can expect a few clever notions. One occurs when the Dream Team is off visiting Alonso Avellaneda (Jeromy Irons – See? Wasted cast!). Clouseau sneaks about as we remain with the others; his caperings appear on the security monitors, silent and in black & white. Shenanigans ensue. I’m astounded, someone actually found a natural way to communicate the language of silent comic cinema in 2009, which is the sort of formalist approach Edwards would envy.
Another noteworthy set piece concerns Clouseau attempting to move a recording device from one restaurant table to another – without being seen. This allows Martin to utilize the sort of disguise-based silliness Sellers enjoyed. He clads as a Spanish dancer, launches into a too-silly pratfall routine, things climax in flames. What separates this scene from so many like it is a degree of clarity to the gag. So many would flail through such an extreme, abstract setup, whereas Martin breaks the routine down into its separate moments, then plays each beat distinctly.
Not all routines are as successful, which is the risk you run with such a scattershot construction. Clouseau’s struggle with Ponton’s sons is one of those moments, as it trades thought-out lunacy for simple viciousness. Another more awkward moment, for other reasons, comes of the Dream Team’s visit to the Pope’s chambers – necessitated since now his ring has been added to the Tornado’s stash (hey, you did Italy twice!). This is one of those extremely delicate, cultured social situations, so it shouldn’t take an excessive amount of bungling on Clouseau’s part.
Yeah, that’s what he does, dress himself in the Pope’s finest popery, then do a joke which wasn’t funny in EuroTrip either. It’s one thing to put Cloueau in physical bits of nonsense, but this scene demands that we accept a certain extreme degree of stupidity on Clouseau’s part. Which wouldn’t be a problem, except for the amount of smartness we’re also asked to ascribe to him, which is the great Catch 22 of Martin’s version.
But Clouseau’s competence is not in question for long, especially when he managed to tumble off of the Pope’s balcony, when that frail Voice of God has himself never managed to do likewise. The international media is unanimous in its assessment.
Blake Edwards would have never exposed Clouseau’s clumsiness to the world like this, for one of his films’ great gags was how no one except Dreyfus saw Clouseau’s faults. It is this self-awareness in the new Clouseau which makes the humor somewhat less successful than before – it isn’t as committed to following a premise through to the end credits, sans drama. But following the ’06 Panther prototype slavishly, 2 sends Clouseau into the doldrums at the start of its Third Act, exacerbating his success with both Nicole and the Dream Team. Such drama feels an odd fit after what’s preceded it.
True to form, Clouseau then gets his “Ah-hah!” moment, which allows him to crack the case and best the best. He identifies the real perpetrator (red flag-related SPOILER: it was Rai), even while the Dream Team has misidentified a dead man as the culprit and is taking all the credit.
They come to this conclusion earlier, which allows The Pink Panther 2 to climax at an absurdly posh French soiree, same as last time – in true Naked Gun fashion. Clouseau breaks into the gala event, fingers Rai (so to speak), let the wackiness commence. Purely in relationship to its immediate predecessor, 2 is superior in its handling of this moment, even if it is a repeat. This comes of a much more elaborate examination of the comic possibilities of this setting. Martin shows himself to be a student of the Three Stooges, even while Edwards seemed a Buster Keaton man: the three “serious” members of the Dream Team join Clouseau in the Rai race, themselves achieving the maximum amount of foolishness. And Clouseau – again, using genuine pre-meditated smarts – nabs the thief and saves the day.
And he marries Nicole, which leaves them in an odd place for a sequel, should one ever occur.
In this summary, I totally forgot to mention the cleverest scenes in the whole thing! That’s because they have nothing to do with anything else. Rather, in an attempt to elaborate upon the style of the “hamburger” joke from before, Clouseau is saddled with a consultant to advice him in political correctness. (See comment far above about Clouseau’s racism/sexism/general assholism.) That’d be Lily Tomlin, the real life Edna Mode herself, as Yvette Berenger. Not only does this repeating gag allow for far more slurs than I ever expected in a contemporary PG movie, it even grants Clouseau his old “Little yellow friend” comment in new context.
So it ultimately stands that the comedy in The Pink Panther 2 is better than it was in The Pink Panther – though by a minute enough degree it might not be noticeable with more time between viewings. Oh, and the mystery element is better plotted too! Despite all this, The Pink Panther 2 couldn’t even make a third of its forebear’s gross, topping out at a mere $40 million (not that I’d complain to get such a sum myself). It is pretty unusual for the first sequel to a successful, popular movie to sink so much; first sequels usually do better theatrically, owing to love for the first. But we forget that The Pink Panther was a remake, and thus it got a big bump in attendance owing to that fact. So the success of The Pink Panther 2 is more a reflection of this property’s value today, when it isn’t in the extraordinary position of being a remake.
This downturn renders the possibility of future Panthers in the Martin vein rather unlikely. One challenge, should they attempt more, would be to reassemble this overwhelming cast (even ignoring the Dream Team members). In the modern age, with sequels occurring only every 2 or 3 years, casts have a tendency to inflate wildly – this is true of many contemporary franchises. Witness X-Men, Meet the Parents, whatever. Edwards’ Pink Panthers avoided that issue, and the general malaise of sequel escalation, by delivering stand alone entries much in the Bondian mold. This new Pink Panther doesn’t seem to share that aim, which, as much as anything else, should keep away further sequels.
Case closed.
Related posts:
• No. 1 The Pink Panther (1963)
• No. 2 A Shot in the Dark (1964)
• No. 3 Inspector Clouseau (1968)
• No. 4 The Return of the Pink Panther (1975)
• No. 5 The Pink Panther Strikes Again (1976)
• No. 6 Revenge of the Pink Panther (1978)
• No. 7 Trail of the Pink Panther (1982)
• No. 8 Curse of the Pink Panther (1983)
• No. 9 Son of the Pink Panther (1993)
• No. 10 The Pink Panther (2006)
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