The Pink Panther (1963) on Blu-ray Reviewed
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"The Pink Panther" was a phenomenon, a big-scale comedy including slapstick and farce, shot on gorgeous locations with a gorgeous cast. It was an enormous success, establishing Peter Sellers as a leading man and completing the transformation of Blake Edwards into a major director. The still fresh-sounding score by Henry Mancini both established him firmly as the movie composer of the time--cool, jazzy, expressive; his movies often included melodies and songs that spun off into substantial hits--"Baby Elephant Walk," "The Peter Gunn Theme," "Moon River." This movie was also the origin of Inspector Clouseau and the cartoon character "The Pink Panther."
It was the birthplace of so many elements that it's hard to evaluate it just as a movie. Much of it works very well, and everything with Peter Sellers works. And yet he wasn't originally cast as Clouseau; Peter Ustinov backed out of the role at the last minute, and Sellers and Edwards worked hard to make the bumbling flic into something suitable to Sellers.
Sellers made his fame in England on the radio; a master impressionist, he also could do accents from any region in England. He turned up in movies with increasing frequency all through the 1950s, so much so that Edwards' claim he'd only seen Sellers in one movie ("I'm All Right, Jack") is dubious. Sellers already had appeared in "tom thumb" (1958), the very popular "The Mouse That Roared" (1959), "The Millionairess" (1960) with Sophia Loren and Stanley Kubrick's famed "Lolita" (1962), among others. Edwards declares himself a devoted fan of movie comedy; it's hard to believe he had missed all of these. ("Dr. Strangelove" was released at about the same time as "The Pink Panther.")
Edwards and Sellers were both fond of silent comedians, and knew the importance of comedy timing. It's fascinating to watch Sellers fill almost every scene with one or two small comic touches that were improvised by him and Edwards just before filming. Sometimes they're big gags--Clouseau burning his hand on the vent of a fireplace--sometimes they're little gags--while trying to seem suave he can't find a light switch--and sometimes they even take place off screen--Clouseau scampers into the bathroom to get his wife a pill, and we hear the sound of a hundred pills scattering on the tile floor. When the movie began production, David Niven was the star; when it was finished, Peter Sellers was the star (which probably meant very little to the classically nonchalant Niven).
But Sellers and Edwards were constantly at odds. Again and again, Edwards (and others) claim that the greatest thing in the world was to work with Peter Sellers, and it was the worst thing in the world, too. But nobody ever explains just what it was that the actor and director clashed over. This movie--in fact, all the Pink Panther/Clouseau movies they made together--doesn't show the slightest sign of conflict, whether the movie turns out well or badly.
Immediately after "The Pink Panther," Sellers was contracted to appear in "A Shot in the Dark," an adaptation of a theatrical success that had starred Walter Matthau. But he hated the script. Sets had been built, stages rented, the movie was ready to roll, so Sellers frantically turned to an initially reluctant Blake Edwards, begging for his help. Edwards finally said that the only way it could work was to turn the police detective already in the story into Inspector Clouseau. Sellers gratefully agreed--but then hated the resulting movie so much, he tried to prevent its release. And yet as a comedy, it's even better than "The Pink Panther," though their next teamup wouldn't happen for years (not until actor and director both badly needed money).
All this and more is covered in the commentary track and in the several smoothly-made but not nearly long enough featurettes devoted to the behind-the-scenes elements of the making of "The Pink Panther." The documentary on Sellers as Clouseau rockets through the series of films, though everyone avoids referring directly to the movie actually called "Inspector Clouseau," in which Alan Arkin tried unsuccessfully to step into the cop's trenchcoat. The recent Steve Martin errors aren't mentioned at all.
It's hard to entirely accept Edwards' claim that Sellers didn't know how to be funny physically when we see him running down a hotel hallway in his pajamas, holding a gun: he's in the funniest possible position for a man in that situation. He falls down funny (many times). And yet he always recovers, pretending that his oafishness just does not exist--and believing it, too. Clouseau never thinks he's funny, never does anything overtly comic, always lands on his feet, always sure he can get the upper hand in the situation, always almost sure no one will notice his blunders. Sellers is an utter master at this, and he and Clouseau are the perfect blend of actor and role.
Although "The Pink Panther" has become more famous for what it began than for what it is, it's still a breezy, elegant romantic comedy. Inspector Clouseau (Sellers, of course) of the Paris police is on the trail of the dashing jewel thief known as the Phantom. He's unaware that the Phantom is actually debonair socialite Sir Charles Lytton (Niven)--and even less aware that Lytton is the lover of Clouseau's own wife Simone (Capucine). The Pink Panther is an enormous diamond owned by Princess Dala (Claudia Capucine), vacationing in the Italian alps; it draws Lytton like a magnet, as well as Clouseau, who suspects the Phantom will strike. Also turning up is Lytton's American nephew, George (Robert Wagner), who quickly becomes involved in everything.
The movie resembles a mid-period James Bond thriller in its use of stunning locations, beautiful people, international settings and chases. Everyone mills around at the elegant skiing resorts, while Lytton tries to figure out how to nab the Pink Panther. There are dances, ski runs, dinner parties, a few drunken scenes and occasional slapstick, usually involving Sellers and nearby props.
The Panavision photography by Philip Lathrop is gorgeous, and beautifully presented in high definition on this Blu-ray disc. You can almost feel the heft of the huge Pink Panther gem, you can almost perceive the sensuous weight of the expensive fabrics, and you can see the textures in the elegant wall coverings. The colors are both rich and pastel, and there are many of them. The definition isn't completely sharp, partly because of the use of Panavision lenses, but greater crispness of image wouldn't make the movie funnier.
This is a rich package. Blake Edwards does only an okay commentary track, but he's still Blake Edwards, the man at ground zero of this comic explosion, this fountain of offshoots. There aren't many people left from this film; Niven, Sellers and Capucine are all gone, Cardinale is rarely seen these days. Wagner turns up in a featurette of his own, exclaiming that the making of "The Pink Panther" was great fun--about as much fun as it looks, apparently. There's a featurette with David DePatie, the surviving half of DePatie-Freleng, the animation company that produced the amusing title sequence, as well as the later series of Pink Panther cartoons. It's surprising there isn't a featurette on the late Henry Mancini, but Edwards talks about him with great affection and appreciation--they made something like 20 movies together.
This is how the world wanted Hollywood movies to look--beautiful people on beautiful locations, doing attractive and interesting things to and with each other, all in color and wide screen, set to sharp, witty music. That it also includes a car chase that's funny largely because it takes place almost entirely off screen, that there's a scene of a man in a gorilla suit skipping down a hotel corridor while holding a sparkler--that's the pink frosting on this angel food cake. It's not as funny as the best of the later Pink Panther movies (but much, much better than the Steve Martin movie of the same name), but it still seems fresh, it's still charming, and it still has beautiful people on beautiful locations, doing interesting things.
