Grumpy Comedy Review – Pink Panther 2

I never saw the first Pink Panther remake and I’ve only seen clips of the Peter Sellers films when I was younger (shame on me). I slightly remember the Pink Panther spin-off cartoons but only for being boring and annoying.

And I could go on about the fantastic past works of Steve Martin, Jean Reno, Lily Tomlin and John Cleese, but I would get too depressed and start to shooting meth into my veins or something. Although, Jean Reno never really had a solid Hollywood record. I’ll always thank him for Leon the Professional but what else is there? Godzilla? Pink Panther 1? Well, Ronin’s okay. I guess.

Oh, right. Pink Panther 2. Yeah, I saw it. Not a whole lot to talk about, really. It’s so void of humor, charm, emotion – anything. It’s a black hole of cinema, sucking away the nebulous talent and respect of all those I mentioned above. The best thing about it is the Henry Mancini theme song and the 2D animated intro.

How sad is it we need to turn to Pink Panther 2 to see classic 2D animation in theaters? For two minutes? It’s not even that good, anyway. The rest of the movie is just so boring. Plodding. Heavens to mergatroid, it’s snail-like, even!

Here’s how it goes. Plot: Something about stolen artifacts. Then, gag: Mr. Bean, I mean, Steve Martin trips. Plot: An international team of detectives forms to find the thief. Gag: Steve Martin falls off a balcony. And so on, and so on until I realize I have both hands over my face as if trying to hide from the screen. Plot, gag, plot, gag, the whole thing feels like a disconnected mess full of in-jokes from the first movie (“D’BURGARRR!!”), insults to women, children and Asians that are supposed to be taken as cute (Inspector Clouseau’s defining character trait is that he’s a bigot?! Uhh … okay!!), and fake accents up the ass.

When Steve Martin, dressed as the pope for a humorless bit, starts repeating, “LOOKING AT ZE MOOON!” over and over, I was begging for a mute button. And a gun. To end it all.

The movie did throw me a curveball though, and that’s Jeremy Goddamn Irons. Yes, the man who should be reading Shakespeare in the Park or collaborating with Cronenberg or Lynch or, heck, McTiernan again, is stuck in a dull cameo as a painfully obvious red herring.

Irons. Baby. That voice. That scruff. That menace. It shouldn’t be wasted like this.

But then that sums up everybody in this. Actors, entertainers, legends!!! C’mon. What are they doing? Does Steven Martin do this so he can do another Shopgirl? Will … will it be better than the first Shopgirl?! I know the guy is capable of so much more. For a reminder, I recommend watching Martin’s appearance on The Colbert Report. It’s far more entertaining than this movie, in a fraction of the time.

Though that could be because Colbert’s writers have more funny in them than all the D’BURGARRRS Steve Martin can muster.

HIGHLIGHT: John Cleese is told to put Clouseau on the case. In response, he goes quietly into a bathroom to bash his head against the wall. You and me both, man. You and me both.

***Tim Magus is Julius Bloop’s film reviewer. Visit his website – Grump Factory***