Son of the Pink Panther (1993) MGM/Comedy RT: 93 minutes Rated PG (language, comic violence, mild sensuality) Director: Blake Edwards Screenplay: Blake Edwards, Madeline Sunshine and Steve Sunshine Music: Henry Mancini Cinematography: Dick Bush Release date: August 27, 1993 (US) Cast: Roberto Benigni, Herbert Lom, Burt Kwouk, Robert Davi, Claudia Cardinale, Debrah Farentino, Shabana Azmi, Jennifer Edwards, Dermot Crowley, Oliver Cotton, Graham Stark, Liz Smith, Anton Rogers, Aharon Ipale, Mike Starr, Nicoletta Braschi. Box Office: $2.4M (US)
Rating: *
I really don’t understand the appeal of Roberto Benigni, the Italian comic actor who took home a pair of Academy Awards for the 1998 WWII dramedy Life is Beautiful. I didn’t laugh when he climbed over the seats at that year’s Oscar ceremony after his name was announced for Best Actor. Aside from Life is Beautiful, which I thought was good not great, I haven’t liked any of his movies (e.g. Johnny Stecchino, The Monster and To Rome with Love).
I didn’t even bother seeing Pinocchio (2002). As such, it would unfair to call Son of the Pink Panther his worst movie. It is, however, the worst of the ones I’ve seen. It’s also the second-worst of the Pink Panther series after 1982’s unwatchable Trail of the Pink Panther. The idea is that Benigni’s character is the illegitimate son of Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau. Apparently, Clouseau made whoopee with Maria Gambrelli, a character played by Elke Sommer in A Shot in the Dark (1964), and fathered a son. This time around, she’s played by Claudia Cardinale who played the Princess in the first movie back in ’63. I’ll concede it’s not a bad premise. However, the rest of Son of the Pink Panther is truly bad. Like its star, it’s not funny.
A group of terrorists led by Hans (Davi, Die Hard) kidnaps Princess Yasmin of Lugash (Farentino, Earth 2) demanding two things: (1) a $100 million ransom and (2) that the king abdicates his throne. Since the crime occurred in French territorial waters, it falls under the jurisdiction of the Surete. On his way to meet with the chief of police, Commissioner Dreyfus (Lom) is in a car accident with the kidnappers. A bumbling local gendarme arrives on the scene on a motorized bicycle. That would be Jacques Gambrelli (Benigni), a clumsy idiot with traits Dreyfus finds familiar. It takes only seconds for his eye to start twitching uncontrollably. Guess who the police chief assigns to help Dreyfus solve the case? In less than 24 hours, he’s in the hospital with injuries sustained from a bombing at Gambrelli’s mother’s house. This happens just moments after Maria confirms Dreyfus’ suspicions that the young cop is the son of Clouseau. Gambrelli proceeds on his own to locate and rescue the princess. As expected, he lives up to his family name, making progress only by sheer dumb luck.
It’s sad to think Son of the Pink Panther is Blake Edwards’ final film before he retired. It’s a sour note on which to go out. Not only is it incredibly unfunny, it’s also convoluted. The ones behind the kidnapping are Yasmin’s stepmother (Indian actress Azmi) and her lover, a military general (Ipale, The Mummy). That much is clear. Their endgame is another story. It has something to do with an unfriendly neighboring country, but beyond that I have no idea. Benigni is just plain annoying, but I take a small measure of comfort in knowing that he wasn’t Edwards’ first choice for the role. He should have gone with Rowan Atkinson (aka Mr. Bean). Not that it would have helped much because in addition to the terrible script, the comic bits fall harder than an elephant on a slippery wooden floor. It’s painful to watch the actors take part in such poorly choreographed slapstick. Besides, we’ve seen many of these scenes before in earlier Pink Panther films. For example, Son of the Pink Panther contains yet another scene of somebody being knocked out a window by a door while talking on the phone and literally hanging on by a wire. It was amusing the first time; now it’s just old and stale.
The only saving grace (as usual) is the animated/live-action opening titles in which composer Henry Mancini hands over the baton to the animated Pink Panther so he can conduct Bobby McFerrin in a brand new take on the familiar theme song. I like the original version better. Honestly, Edwards should have retired the series after Peter Sellers died. Son of the Pink Panther is proof positive that it’s best to leave sleeping dogs- or should I say panthers?- lie. It fails on virtually every level and deserves to be disowned.
