The persistent problem with the Inspector Clouseau series is that Blake Edwards does not know when to leave well enough alone. That he would persevere even past Peter Sellers's death reveals this problem in a rather ghoulish light. The out-takes from earlier Clouseau efforts, insofar as they can be identified, would not have been a great loss to Western culture if they had gone forever unseen; and the new footage, detailing a TV reporter's Citizen Kane-ish investigation into the inspector's past, is a skimpy pretext for assorted "highlights." Simply put: there is no decent excuse for a movie here. And the promise, in the closing credits, of a Curse of the Pink Panther still to come, is best met with the solemn incantion: "Requiescat in pace." (1982) — Duncan Shepherd
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