Ugh. Ay carambas! Yikes. This film is torture. I will not claim to have made it all the way through, but I held on as long as I could.
This really is just a travesty all around. It starts well enough. Harvey Korman is an admirable Auguste Balls. “Maybe they did have enough outtake footage to patch together a film,” I thought. I kept as alert as possible, trying to find the inevitable and unenviable “break point.” It comes after Sellers exits the elevator: the last laugh.
It is a jaw-dropping stroke of hubris…Sellers doing soft-shoe on the spilled rice and then the exact same set piece with the keys in the door and the ripped trousers. It’s all downhill from there. It turns into a “greatest hits” playback of scenes from the previous films with stupefying ennui courtesy of interviewing those who had known Clouseau.
I must say, however: I made it further into this debacle than I thought I would. At least the “pup-out” lighter scene was priceless (truly the last laugh). Perhaps I will return to this revolting pastiche once my stomach has calmed down…in a couple of weeks.