I can barely put into words how disappointing The Pink Panther was when I finally seen it. What I was expecting was a witty, fast-paced exercise in earnest slapstick silliness. With a comic genius like Peter Sellers you'd anticipate nothing less. Instead what I got was a slow, dull and completely directionless farce of the worst kind. Clouseau is often absent from the, *cough*, action, for huge stretches of time, but that's nothing compared to the kind of breaks that the comedy takes. The film is rife with horrific dead spots where literally nothing funny happens at all, instead delivering a series of seemingly unending conversations which bring everything to a complete halt. Not even Sellers' legendary physical aptitude is wasted here, as he does very little that's worth even a giggle. Most of his time is spent engaging in boring shenanigans with his on-screen wife, which has no reason to be in the film. It's so furiously unfocused and shambolically structured that I lost interest within about half an hour, and it could do nothing to win me back. It's a film so lame that I wonder how it could have ever been considered great, let alone a classic. When the animated opening credits are funnier than the entire rest of the film, that's a sign that you're in for a long, difficult ride.