Had director Blake Edwards (The Pink Panther, 1963) stuck to his guns and followed his instinct and gone down the silent film route, this would have emerged in better shape. Blame star Peter Sellers (The Pink Panther) for deciding “brownface” had worked so well in The Millionairess (1960) that it was ripe for a repeat and that dialog was essential to the audience empathizing with his character.
On reflection, the fish-out-of-water concept would have been more acceptable with a character originating from anywhere but India which would have still permitted the star to adopt one of the zany voices that were his trademark.
The script was originally 58 pages long which would have delivered a finished product running just short of an hour. The extra time would have been made up by the actor’s improvisation.
His character probably didn’t need to be actor either to find himself at bigwig’s party in Los Angeles. When Sellers is at his inventive best this just purrs along. Some of the ideas are priceless – trying to retrieve a shoe from a pond, meddling with a electronics system, getting his tie stuck in an unlikely spot, spraying all with water. But when he opens his voice, it drags.
Part of the problem is that Hrundi V. Bakshi (Peter Sellers) lacks lines with any zap. He just mumbles along, repeating the same humorless drivel. And while other characters make fools of themselves through dialog, that’s rarely with incisive wit either, the audience just laughing at their inflated opinions of themselves.
Bakshi is an incompetent Indian actor who manages to blow up the expensive set on costume epic Son of Gunga Din movie set at the height of the British Raj. He should have been blacklisted, but instead elementary error sees him invited to the party of studio boss General Clutterbuck (J. Edward McKinley) where he encounters a drunken starlet, an alcoholic waiter determined to steal the slapstick high ground, pompous western star “Wyoming Bill” (Denny Miller) and French singer Michele Monet (Claudine Longet) trying to avoid the advances of movie producer Divot (Gavin MacLeod).
Although this was reputedly shot in sequence, the running order doesn’t really matter. Set Peter Sellers in his pomp down in any situation and chaos will ensure. Wigs will come off, shoes will rocket around a room, anything on a plate, bowl or tray will fall off, anyone in the vicinity will be drenched or battered. Tempers will rise until they are nicely cooking and set to explode.
Quite where a Russian ballet troupe and a painted elephant fit into this is anyone’s guess except that both were intended as cues for further hilarity. When guests aren’t tumbling into the pool they’re soaked in soap suds. Naturally, Bakshi’s ineptitude triggers gentle romance with Michele.
This would certainly have built up a good head of steam if seen in a cinema with an audience. But the cinema audience would have encountered the same problem as anyone watching it at home. For every sequence that hits a comedic bulls-eye, others just fall flat. When the movie relies on the star’s charm rather than his ineptitude it falls apart.
It’s almost a highlights reel and my guess is that if it was cut back to the original one-hour length we might well have a classic on our hands. As it is, padded out, it doesn’t come close.
While at one time it acquired cult status my guess is that the contemporary audience won’t find enough to compensate for the offensive Brownface.
Certainly there are moments of genius, the shoe sequence and the electronics section are huge fun. But too much just doesn’t work.
You might end up fast forwarding every time Sellers opens his mouth. He is a master at finding fun in the inanimate, less impressive when dealing with people. Didn’t do anything for Claudine Longet, no more movies after this. And that was not surprising. Everyone was just a stooge to Sellers.
I apologize for falling back on that old analogy of the curate’s egg – good in parts – but that pretty much defines it.
The Magnificent 60s 