Taking Inspector Clouseau into his fifth decade of bumbling, Steve Martin does respectable riffs on Peter Sellers' demented obliviousness. He artfully gibberizes words like hamburger, sniggers at his own deductive élan, and does slapstick battle with everything from wine bottles to the Pope's miter. Martin, though, is so respectful of the role that he doesn't really make it his own; he does warmed-over Sellers instead of blissed-out Martin. When a series of world artifacts disappears, Clouseau is placed in charge of a dream team of detectives (Andy Garcia, Alfred Molina, etc.), which gives him too many straight men. The Pink Panther 2 provides genial chuckles, but it's never excitingly rude. B-
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