Blake Edwards needs a commercial hit and resurrecting his "Pink Panther" series — again — probably seemed a good idea on paper.
And he made a good choice in casting Italy's premier comic star Roberto Benigni, a fine slapstick comedian of the old school, as the new Inspector . . . er, that is, "Detective" Clouseau.
But something is missing in "Son of the Pink Panther," as co-writer/director Edwards trods the same territory — and even reprises some of the same old gags — that he covered redundantly in no less than seven earlier movies.
Now, don't get me wrong. I loved "The Pink Panther," and its immediate sequel, "A Shot in the Dark," is one of my all-time favorite films. "The Pink Panther Strikes Back" also has a goodly share of hilarity. But "The Return of the Pink Panther" and "The Revenge of the Pink Panther" were rather weak entries, and two lazy attempts by Edwards to revive the series after the death of Peter Sellers — "Trail of the Pink Panther" and "Curse of the Pink Panther" — were just this side of embarrassing.
So, it is disappointing, if not too surprising, to find that "Son of the Pink Panther" is largely a misfire, despite some scattershot laughs.
The primary plot, which is cluttered and has too many villains, is about a Middle East princess (Debrah Farentino) being kidnapped by nasty Robert Davi and friends (including Edwards' daughter Jennifer, as a "butch" karate expert).
Commissioner Dreyfus (Herbert Lom, reprising his old eye-twitching role) is assigned to the case and heads for the south of France, where he bumps into a young Italian policeman named Jacques Gambrelli (Benigni), who reminds him of the late Clouseau. A bit of investigation reveals that the patrolman is indeed Jacques Clouseau Jr. — the product of a tryst between Clouseau and Maria Gambrelli (Claudia Cardinale). (Apparently this is not the same Maria Gambrelli played by Elke Sommer in "A Shot in the Dark," since she and Dreyfus don't seem to know each other.)
Soon, young Clouseau is also on the case, with help from his father's faithful servant Cato and that master of disguise Dr. Balls (also reprised by the original actors, Burt Kwouk and Graham Stark, respectively). And the bungling and stumbling begins, as Clouseau evades shootouts and explosions, while innocently causing no end of mayhem to others.
Benigni is very good, though more in the manic manor of Robin Williams than the bemused pratfalls of Peter Sellers. The rest of the cast also fares well, and it's especially nice to see Cardinale again. (Anyone remember what role she played in the original "Pink Panther" movie?)
As with his other recent films ("Switch," "Skin Deep," "That's Life"), Blake Edwards misses the comic mark repeatedly, settling for bland when he should be reaching for funny.
Surprisingly, the body count here is as high as any Jean-Claude Van Damme movie, except that the victims don't bleed, which apparently accounts for the PG rating. (There is also some sexual content and a few vulgar gags.)