He's going in.
Ah, Inspector!
Uh... Chief Inspector.
Chief Inspector. Hail to the chief!
Come right in.
Good to see you. Your disguise is ready for the final fitting.
- I'm sure you will be pleased. - Good, good.
- Inspector Clouseau is here! - Chief, uh, Chief Inspector Clouseau.
Chief!
Yes. Listen, I saw some very interesting noses there.
Oh, those noses over there? They are for the amateurs.
- I have some in my private stock. - Oh, wonderful.
Yes! You always did have a nose for noses.
Yes. I'm sorry, but our Valentine's Day stock isn't ready yet,
- but we have some beauties here for you. - Yes? Yes?
Alright, let's try this one first. Ah, here's a marvelous one.
Inspector?
- Alright. Shall we just get that on there? Hmm? - Yeah.
- What do you think of that? Yes. - Now, wait, wait.
I call this one "The Way We Were".
Yes, do you like it? It's from our Streisand line.
- Do you like it? - Mm...
No, I don't like it either. Sorry, I almost took your nose with that.
Just a moment. Let's try this-- What are you doing?
Now, come over here. Let's try this one now, Inspector.
I think you will like this one very much.
It's very suitable for your face. It fits in with your lines.
What do you think of that? Mmm?
We call this one "Wino and Roses".
- Yes, you notice-- - Why is it--
The veins are quite lifelike. Don't you agree?
I am particularly proud of the enlarged pores.
Look at this one right here. Huh?
I wasn't crazy about it either. Alright, we'll try something else.
- Something, uh... something missing there. - Something's missing? Alright.
- How about that? - You know what I mean?
- Is that supposed to... - Does that work for you?
- Oh, that's very nice, isn't it? - That is a nose, Auguste.
- That is a nose. - You have a nose for noses.
I always can tell immediately I see the nose.
- We call this one our "Inky Dinky Doo". - "Inky Dinky Doo"?
- It's from our "Inky Dinky Doo" line. - What do you have to go with this?
This will keep you very warm, too. This has a nice effect with that nose.
- That is too legal. Yes. - Too legal?
I want something that is sort of, um... how can I say?
Leave it to Dr. Balls.
Auguste! Auguste! Look what you have done.
- You like it? - You're a genius.
- Wait. Some-- something-- something is missing. - What? What?
Yes. I know what's missing. Here are some teeth... on the house.
Let me see how they look.
- Perfect! Perfect! - Look at this.
You are a genius at your art. My dear boy.
He's still inside.
What do you want us to do when he comes out?
Follow him.
Martha! Come down and wrap the chief inspector's purchase, please.
I've recently been doing something very daring in a stump.
Arm and leg. Only 900 francs for the complete kit.
Yes. Yes. It has been my experience, Auguste, that,
in an emergency, a stump can get in the way, you know.
Alright, alright. Ah, Martha, you remember Chief Inspector Clouseau?
I never set eyes on zis gentleman before.
Good evening, Martha.
I cannot believe my eyes!
That is because your husband is a genius, madame. A genius!
Wrap these up, if you would, please. And I want that nose to go with it.
- Impossible. - Oh, money is no object.
That is absolutely the ugliest nose I have ever seen in my life.
It is so revolting. It is a masterpiece.
It is also Martha's own nose.
My compliments, madame. It suits you.
Thank you, Chief Inspector.
Thank you!
I will get your bill.
My God, Auguste, what have you done?
The left heel, cleverly built up, which gives added height and authority.
Ja? But the real secret is in the right heel.
The lifelike club-foot look is caused by a built-in spring
which digs into the ankle, causing excruciating pain.
- Very realistic, don't you think? - Remarkable. How soon can I have a pair?
I can have them ready for you by Wednesday.
Again, Auguste, my sincere thanks. And to you, madame.
Do you like the hand? I'll pack them up with the shoes.
Oh, don't worry, we're having a hand sale.
It will come in handy for scratching, in case you have any hand jobs.
- We will see you soon, Inspector. - Chief Inspector.
Chief inspector! Goodbye. We'll see you soon. Goodbye.
Oh, my God!
I've never... I can't stand!
I've never been in such pain!
Shall I kiss it and make it better?
It's not that bad.
And, so, for the third time in the memory of modern man,
the world's largest cut diamond, the famous Pink Panther, has been stolen.
Since the reign of Akbar the Magnificent
in the early 12th century, until the recent bloodless coup
of the former Colonel, now President, Sandover Haleesh,
the Pink Panther has been the symbol of continuity of the Kurfilli,
the ruling family of the tiny Middle East nation of Lugash.
Princess Dala
- Yes? - Chief Inspector Dreyfus.
Send him right in.
...the current military regime
who have kept the gem under the tightest security--
I came as soon as I got your message, Commissioner.
- I commend your promptness. - Thank you.
- You have heard of the theft in Lugash? - The Pink Panther?
Yes, of course. It is in all the papers.
Soon, I imagine, they will be sending us a request
for assistance in catching the criminals.
I have, as a matter of fact, already received such a request
from the president of Lugash personally.
I see. How many men did the president ask for?
Only one. Inspector Jacques Clouseau.
Clouseau?
- See that he's on the next plane. - Of course.
But, um... Commissioner.
Don't you think that someone more... conventional would, uh...
Not to take anything away from Clouseau, you understand, but, uh,
in view of the tense situation in the Middle East...
I am aware of the tense situation between you and Clouseau.
However, Lugash has requested Clouseau, and Clouseau they will have.
Your finger is in my ink.
Hmm!
Mm-hmm.
Merde!
Ow!
What's he doing in there?
Ah! Hello!
Nice weather we're having.
I had hoped we'd finally laid to rest
your obsession with Inspector Clouseau.
So had I, Doctor. So had I.
And something has happened to bring on this relapse?
No, not something.
Someone. The one.
No. No, perhaps you're right.
Something. He is a thing.
- Clouseau? - Yes! Clouseau!
And your compulsion to kill Clouseau,
is it also back?
Oh, yes. Right back.
The thought of a world without Clouseau fills me with delight.
Like a-- like a summer with a thousand Julys.
It intoxicates my soul with, with, uh...
- Your eyes. - What?
"Intoxicates my soul with your eyes."
You've just lapsed into the lyrics of "You Go to My Head".
- I did? I apologize. - Never apologize for Cole Porter.
Besides, your subconscious has just confirmed what we already know.
- That Clouseau has got into my head. - Precisely.
Now, how do you suppose you are going to get him out of there?
I don't know. I don't suppose.
You are supposed to suppose and give me all the answers.
Look, the commissioner wants him in Lugash. Well, let the commissioner handle it!
I don't want to know. I don't want to be there.
I want to be here with you.
What are you thinking, Doctor?
It wasn't Cole Porter.
It was Gillespie and Coots.
- Yes? - The deputy commissioner to see you.
The commissioner? Send him in immediately.
Come in, Commissioner.
I want to discuss the Pink Panther robbery.
I am at your service, Commissioner. Allow me to offer you a small cigar.
Swine cigars. Pay no attention to them whatsoever. Let them just roll.
Read this most carefully and give me your opinion.
I will read my opinion and give you yours most carefully.
Yes.
- Do you have a light? - Yes, in the top left-hand drawer.
Aagh!
Agh!
I'm dancing in the rice
♪ Just dancing in the rice ♪
♪ What a wonderful feeling ♪
♪ I'm... happy in the rice ♪
♪ Always happy... ♪
Oh, allow me.
- Excuse me. - Yes?
Clouseau just called. He wants me to take him to the airport.
Well, then take him.
Let the president of Lugash worry about his blood pressure for a while.
- He's not going to Lugash. - What?
- He's booked on the 12:15 flight to London. - To London?
He suspects the Phantom to be responsible for the robbery.
And he said that since Sir Charles lives in England...
- Sir Charles Litton lives in the South of France. - Well, yes, sir. Shall I tell him?
Don't bother. He would just say "I know that."
Trying to talk sense to Clouseau
is like... like Einstein trying to explain relativity to a "minkey".
Does Sir Charles know you're coming?
No, I want it to remain a surprise.
- Merde. - What's wrong?
Your pop-out lighter is refusing to pop out.
Huh. It's supposed to pop out automatically when it reaches a specific temperature.
And what exactly is this specific temperature?
I don't know.
Well, you should have checked with the factory. Because it is obvious that this pop-out lighter
has reached its specific pop-out temperature and is refusing to pop out.
The first rule for the car-owner: know your automobile.
- But it is your automobile. - I know that!
But it is not my pop-out lighter.
If it were my pop-out lighter, I would know the specific pop-out temperature.
Clouseau was trying to fix the lighter.
He is sure that someone planted a bomb in the car.
Yes. Someone should have... I mean, could have done that.
He wired Scotland Yard and said he was arriving in disguise.
Disguise?
What kind of disguise? Disguised as what?
He didn't say.
How are we gonna tell how to look for him?
Grazie.
Ladies and gentlemen, This is your captain speaking.
Please return to your seat and fasten your seat belt
as there is turbulence ahead. Thank you.
Whoa!
- Morning, sir. Good trip? - Oh, yes, yes. Thank you, thank you.
- Morning, madam. - Hey!
- Can I help you? - Thank you.
Idiot!
Inspector Clouseau. I'm Drummond from Scotland Yard.
I am André Botot, mustard salesman from Dijon.
Oh...
- Can I give you a lift, Monsieur Botot? - That would be very kind of you, Mr Yard.
- Drummond. - Yes. How is Scotland these days?
- Pardon? - Scotland.
I've some relations who are from Scotland.
My grandmother on my father's side. I'm quite fluent in the Gaelic, you know.
Rrrrrrrrrr.
It is the night of braw bricht moons on the night of gladess.
Yes.
Inspector McClaren, this is Monsieur Botot...
From Dijon. How do you do? I was just telling Sergeant Yard
about my father-in-law's sister on my sergeant's side, you know.
Oh, yes.
Go round the back.
Ah...
At last. My own house. My own swimming pool.
My own 38-23-38.
- Telegram. - Read it to me.
"Dear Chief Commissioner. Happy birthday."
"Hope you enjoy the 3,000 pounds of Jell-O."
3,000 pounds of Jell-O?
There must be some mistake.
Where would I put 3,000 pounds of Jell-O?
Besides, only Clouseau would be stupid enough
to send me 3,000 pounds of Jell-O.
Argh!
Hello, yes?
- Argh! - Hello.
This is Inspector Drummond of Scotland Yard.
I know it's late. I hope I didn't wake you up.
No, no, it's quite all right. As a matter of fact, you did me a favor.
Who is it?
- What can I do for you, Inspector? - Well, it's about Inspector Clouseau.
MI5 called and reported that Libyan agents heard a rumor
that there might be an assassination attempt against Clouseau.
Really? Who else wants to kill him?
I mean, who is behind it?
We don't know. But it comes from a reliable source.
Now, we've told Clouseau but he just laughed and said
"The moving fingair writes."
"Fingair." Mm.
When it's Clouseau, he could mean anything.
- Do you know what time it is? - Will you shut up?!
No, not you. Tell me, where is he now?
At his hotel. Now, I think you should call him and order him back to Paris.
Until we verify this rumor one way or another,
under no circumstances allow him to go to Lugash.
- Yes? - Do you have for me the "massage"?
Oh.
- You want a massage, eh? - If you have one for me, yes.
Why don't you try Tokyo Lil at the end of the block?
Ask for Passionflower Shirley, the Yokohama Butterfly.
- And why should I do that? - Well, you want a massage, don't you?
Yes, but I want it from you.
Sir, I don't give massages.
- But you gave me one early this morning. - Sir, you're mistaken.
Look. Don't you try the tricks anglais with me, monsieur.
I received a "massage" this morning from Inspector Quinlan of the Yard of Scotland.
- The massage! - And it was you that gave it to me.
- Message. You mean message. - What? Look, I know what I mean, you lunatic.
Now, do you or do you not have for me the "massage"?
No, sir. For you, there is no massage.
- Grouse-Moor Hotel. Reading? - Inspector Clouseau.
Oh.
He just went up to his room. I'll ring.
Thank you.
Yes. This is Chief Inspector Clouseau.
Turn your bed down, sir.
- Agh! - Inspector Clouseau?
Clouseau? Where are you? Can you hear me?
Clouseau!
Yes? You were saying?
Agh!
Aagh!
Idiot! Can you hear me?
Where are you? Clouseau?
Now then. What was that you were saying?
Aaagh!
Your massage!
Your phone.
To the airport, my good man, and drive like the wind.
Right, sir.
I knew that. I knew that.
I've got a headache and I don't want to hear another word about it.
Then, don't involve yourself! Every time you get mixed up with Clouseau...
- That's enough! - What do you think you're doing?
- What does it look like I'm doing? - You can't!
I'm doing the same thing I've been doing every morning for the last two years.
- But you can't! - And I'm sick and tired of you telling me
- what I can do and what I can't. - Suit yourself.
I hope you like the new pool cover you ordered.
- I think you made a mistake, Colonel. - Wrong.
And never call me Colonel, Colonel Bufoni. I am now your president and I am infallible.
It says so in the new constitution.
Which you wrote yourself when you were still a colonel.
And you were a captain, Colonel, which you could soon become again, you understand.
Yes, Mr President. It's just that sending for Clouseau...
Was a stroke of genius. He found the Pink Panther before, he will find it again.
Possibly. And then?
Then... the grateful people of Lugash will shower me, President Haleesh,
with praise and honor... and their daughters.
And the insurance companies,
the ones which have already paid our government's claim of 12 million dollars
for the theft of the Pink Panther,
what will they shower you with?
Why didn't you mention this before I sent for Clouseau?
Because you didn't tell me till just now that you'd requested assistance
from somebody else's police force.
- Maybe we can withdraw the request. - Not "we", Mr President. "You."
Only you can't. Clouseau's plane at this very minute is winging its way to Lugash.
Ah. Well, perhaps he won't find the Pink Panther.
Perhaps he won't reach Lugash.
- Colonel, you wouldn't... Ah. - To save my president.
Do what you must, Colonel.
Just don't tell me about it.
A president's conscience must be unblemished.
You understand my meaning, General?
As the hand understands the glove.
Oh, great one.
Try to get control of yourself, my friend.
Giving in in this way is not healthy.
If I were healthy, why would I be here, Doctor?
I was referring to your blood pressure.
I see. He's such a maniac, such an idiot, such a fool.
And such a lucky fool.
He would fall backwards down a manhole
and wind up in the arms of Brooke Shields.
And now London, half in ruins.
And Lugash, a helpless little desert country,
- about to be devastated. - You must get hold of yourself.
Yes, I'm trying. I'm trying.
You don't want to end up at Happy Acres again.
No. But, you see Doctor, until Clouseau is out of my hair,
out of my life forever, I'm doomed.
I'll never smile again.
Frank Sinatra with the Pied Pipers and Tommy Dorsey.
I'm falling apart and you go down memory lane with your silly jazz!
They know better than to interrupt me when I'm with a patient, unless it is an emergency.
- Allô? - Emergency call for the inspector.
Bon, attendez.
It would seem the emergency is not mine... but yours.
Yes, Dreyfus.
- I have terrible news for you. - What?
Inspector Clouseau's plane is missing.
- You are sure? - Yes, positive. I'm sorry.
- I'll be right there. - OK, Inspector.
Thank you.
Doctor Longet... goodbye!
You see before you a man reborn!
Cured. Sane. Sound as a Swiss franc.
- The phone call was good news? - Wonderful news.
Clouseau's plane is overdue and presumed lost, into the sea.
Lost into the sea and out of my life forever!
I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair.
I know. Mary Martin, South Pacific.
♪ I'm going to wash that man right outta my hair ♪
Agh!
She's here. Come in.
Listen, I think this is a mistake. Tell her I'm out of town on a case.
- Do you think that's wise? - But do you think talking to her is wise?
You were his immediate superior.
"Were." You really think he's... past tense?
- Well, it certainly seems possible. - Oh, it would be wonderful.
And, uh, sooner or later, a persistent reporter, like Marie Jouvet...
But what can I say? What can I tell her?
- That I thought him an imbecile? - No.
That I thought he was the luckiest man in the world with the brain of a--
the brain of a retarded clam?
- Of course not. - Of course not.
I mean, you know he was an idiot, and I know he was an idiot,
but to the rest of the world he was the greatest detective since Sherlock Holmes.
- If I tell the truth... - Then don't. He's gone.
Give them the hero they want. It's no skin off your nose.
But is he gone? Is he really?
I've got this ghastly feeling that one of these days - next week or tomorrow -
I'll open the trunk of my car or my closet and "Peekaboo!"
But even so, I really don't think you have a choice.
What if I don't bring it off, hmm? You know me where Clouseau is concerned.
My emotions are just lurking below the surface like a floating mine.
- Oh, God. I can't do it. - You can do it.
I can do it? Yes, I can do it.
No, you do it.
Miss Jouvet.
Ah, Miss Jouvet. How nice of you to come.
Please, make yourself comfortable. Pull up a clam.
How would you describe Inspector Clouseau?
Well... I've never known a man like him.
He was... He was unique.
- Could you be more specific? - I could be, but...
Well, to start with, he was...
unorthodox.
- In what way? - In every way.
- Can you give me an example? - An example.
Yes. For instance, to keep himself constantly alert to any attack,
he instructed his Chinese manservant to attack him
wherever and whenever he could.
That's not only unorthodox, it's bizarre.
- He sounds like a real nut. - Shut up!
There were rumours that you and he didn't get along.
Well...
I suppose we occasionally had our little disagreements,
but, um, when you work with somebody for 20 years
you can't always be expected to see...
to see... I mean, to see eye to eye.
Then you think he was a good detective?
He was, um... I think he was, um...
You can't just say he was...
There are no words to describe what he really was.
How about "genius"?
That is a word.
- Courageous? - Courageous?
Oh, courageous.
The president twice decorated him for bravery.
Right.
- That sounds like a courageous man to me. - Yes, it certainly sounds that way, hmm?
He was reputed to be a great athlete.
He, uh
Oh, you have no idea what an athlete he was.
A karate black belt?
- A black belt? Hmm? - An expert marksman. A born leader.
Inspector, I'm so sorry.
Gee, he's crying.
- Hello? - This is Bruno. I want a meeting. Right away.
- Who with? - Everybody.
OK, boss.
Aagh!
Aaagh!
Aha!
You mean it was part of your job to attack him like that?
Oh, yes.
Well, Cato. I'm back on the case.
Ah-ha!
Now to set the trap, catch the killer
and prove to the world that Maria Gambrelli is innocent... of murder.
We're going to have to accelerate our training program.
You must learn to attack me whenever and wherever I least expect it.
And you-- you must give no quarter.
- But didn't anyone ever get hurt? - Oh, yes. Mostly me.
There was one time, however, when the Mafia imported a ninja.
The inspector thought the ninja was me.
- Poor ninja. - I know just how he felt.
And now, with your boss gone, no more sneak attacks.
You must be very relieved.
Well, not entirely.
Sometimes, when you do something long enough, you miss it even if it was painful.
What do you think happened to the inspector?
Beats me.
- Inspector Clouseau's residence. - Marie Jouvet, please.
One moment, please.
It's for you.
- Allô? - This is Sergeant Duval speaking.
I have that information for you.
Clouseau's former assistant, Hercule Lajoy,
is living on a river barge called The Moth.
- Hello? - Hello.
- Hercule Lajoy? - Who wants to know?
- Marie Jouvet. I'm a television reporter. - I know what you are.
Can I come aboard? I want to talk to you.
- You want answers? - Of course.
How can I give you answers? I am taking a nap.
Well, I'll wait until you wake up.
All right.
You're even better-looking than you are on television.
- Thank you. - Thank you.
I don't know why, but I have the distinct impression that I was expected.
Clouseau has disappeared. You're a reporter.
- Elementary. - Spoken like a true policeman.
A retired policeman.
- May I sit? - As you choose.
You worked with Clouseau.
Yes. He was unique.
Intuitive? A man who followed his hunches?
Who can tell what Clouseau followed?
All I know is he was the most successful man in the force.
Everything I thought made up a proper investigation, he did the opposite.
Facts, Hercule. Facts.
Nothing matters but the facts.
Without them, the science of criminal investigation
is nothing more than a guessing game.
You listen to me, Hercule, and you will learn something.
Now, then...
The facts in this case are:
The body of the chauffeur was found in the bedroom of the second maid. Fact!
Cause of death: Four bullets in the chest. Fact!
The bullets were fired at close range from a.25 caliber Beretta automatic. Fact!
Maria Gambrelli was discovered with the murder weapon in her hand. Fact!
The murder weapon was registered in the name of the deceased, Miguel Ostos,
and was kept, mark you, in the glove compartment
of the Ballon Rolls-Royce. Fact!
Now, then. Members of the household staff have testified that Miguel Ostos beat...
Careful, you fool, you've broken my pointing stick.
I've got nothing to point with now.
Have-- have testified that-- that-- that Miguel Ostos beat Maria Gambrelli frequently.
And, now, finally comes this sworn statement of Monsieur and Madame Ballon,
as well as all the members of the staff, each of them with perfect alibis.
Now then, Hercule. What is the inescapable conclusion?
Maria Gambrelli killed the chauffeur.
What? You idiot! Impossible. She's protecting someone.
- How do you know that? - Instinct!
But the facts...
You are forgetting the most important fact - motive.
- He beat her. - He was Spanish.
- He tore her dress off. - Oh, don't be ridiculous!
Would you kill somebody who tore your dress off?
- No, I suppose not. - Of course not.
No, no. There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever, Hercule.
Maria Gambrelli is most definitely protecting somebody.
Find that somebody and you have found the murderer.
And, uh, I shall find the murderer before the day is out.
Maria Gambrelli will tell me who he is. Oh, yes.
Yet Clouseau was proved right. Maria Gambrelli was innocent.
Clouseau was always proved right at the end of the case.
But on the way even he made a few miscalculations.
Agh!
And now he is lost in the sea.
I admired his successes, but his methods...
They made a mockery of everything I knew of police work, so I quit.
But I have a good life. I carry a few cargoes.
I charter to a group of tourists in August when it gets too hot to stay in Paris.
Don't you miss it sometimes, the-- the excitement?
Young lady, if I missed the excitement don't you think I would bait my hook?
Thank you, Hercule Lajoy. I like you.
And I don't think you're nearly the hard case you make yourself out to be.
I like Hercule too, just because he is the hard case he seems to be.
But if you really want to get to the bottom of this Clouseau thing,
forget about us, the ones on his side of the law.
Dig up some of the crooks he caught, or didn't catch.
Goodbye.
- Call again when you're in the neighborhood! - Thank you. I may do that.
They only show the top half of you on television.
- I'm glad the bottom is just as good. - Me too.
- How's business? - Better.
Pickin' up.
Clouseau disappears. Business gets better, huh?
Sure thing, yeah.
- This Marie Jouvet. She's snoopin' around. - So what?
Who knows? But I think it's better we put a tail on her.
Luis, she's no dummy. You pick a couple of good boys, huh?
Done.
Well, when I first met Inspector Clouseau, about 20 years ago, in Cortina,
I had a nasty ski accident
and unfortunately Clouseau happened to be staying at the same hotel.
Ow!
- Ow! - Excuse me. My leg is caught.
- You were married to Inspector Clouseau? - Yes.
Had you known Sir Charles before Cortina?
Only casually.
I am willing to bet you 10,000 francs
that the Phantom is in Cortina at this very moment. Even, perhaps, in this very room.
How exciting. What do you think, Mr Tucker?
Oh, I agree with the inspector. You see,
ten of his last 15 victims have been guests at Angela Dunning's parties.
What are we all talking about?
- The notorious Phantom. - I'm afraid I've never heard of him.
What little I've read about him, he seems to be quite a fellow.
Believe me, there are few thieves who are as clever as the Phantom.
Each theft is completely different and unique, classic in its conception.
But I thought you were working on the theory that he does repeat himself.
Well, only as far as Angela Dunning's parties are concerned.
However, there is one other duplication,
but that is his... trademark, his calling card, so to speak.
- He always leaves a white monogrammed glove. - Sounds terribly theatrical.
You know, Your Highness, if I were the Phantom, I'd have chosen my victim already.
Really? And who would that be?
Well, who owns the most fabulous diamond in the world?
- I suppose I do. - Exactly. The Pink Panther.
Such a prize he could never resist.
He would be bound to try for it.
I'm afraid he'd be disappointed. The Pink Panther is in my safe at...
Your Highness, please. Don't say it, not here.
If I'm not being too nosy, Your Highness, I read somewhere
that there was some dispute over the ownership of the Pink Panther.
It belongs to me. It was a gift from my late father.
- I shall never surrender it. - Why should you?
When the present government seized power,
they claimed the diamond was the property of the people.
There's even some talk of the international court deciding the issue.
I tell you what. Why don't I steal the diamond,
leave that old glove or whatever it is behind,
- and you and I can split the insurance? - All right.
I feel like dancing. Your Highness?
I'd love to.
- How about you, madame? - Yes, of course.
- Your leg is better, Sir Charles? - What?
- I say your leg is better. - Oh, yes. Much better. Thank you.
You know, Mr Tucker... Argh!
That's my beer, old man.
In May 1964 you divorced Inspector Clouseau and a year later...
I married the man of my dreams.
- Who was that, darling? - Oh, you know.
That fellow Clouseau accused of being the notorious Phantom.
Oh, him. You have to forgive her. She's not very good on names.
- Anyway, he's terribly attractive. - But she has impeccable taste.
What made Inspector Clouseau think you were the Phantom?
An anonymous phone call.
I see. Come up immediately.
- Sir Charles. The Phantom. - Sir Charles?
I've really got him this time.
- But of course he was wrong. - About what?
- About you being the Phantom. - Of course. He was wrong.
- Wrong, but persistent. - Persistent he was.
You see, he was convinced that I was planning to steal the Pink Panther.
And when Princess Dala gave a costume ball at a villa in Rome,
Clouseau was there with his men.
- Warm. - Yes, must be hell in there.
Bet it's not so good in there.
- Anything suspicious? - No, no, no. Nothing to worry about.
My men are everywhere. Mingling here, mingling there, watching all the time. Watching.
How dare you drink whilst on duty? Who is inside there?
- Sergeant Walter. - Sergeant Coff.
Any more behavior like this and I'll have your stripes!
- And the Pink Panther was stolen that night? - By a gorilla.
Come back! It's me!
To my dying day,
I'll never forget that old man trying to cross the street.
Come on, faster!
What's the matter with you? Can't you drive this thing faster?
This is the road they have gone up.
Don't argue with me! I'm telling you I know where they've gone.
- Now, George, any idea how we get out of here? - I don't know. I've been all over this place.
I've been up this street, up that one, up that one...
- How are we gonna get out of here? - Why don't you try the high road up there?
Okay, I'll take the high road, you take the low road. So long, Uncle Charles.
Ciao, George.
Now, listen. Who taught you to drive this thing?
- I see them. That's them! - No, it isn't.
And, believe it or not, for a while,
it looked as though Clouseau himself was the Phantom.
He was actually arrested for having stolen the Pink Panther and sent to prison.
Tucker. Tucker!
- But he was innocent. - Inept, but innocent.
- Inept? - Wouldn't you say so, darling?
Oh, no. Not in everything, darling. He was a terrific sleeper.
- It's hard to believe. - Oh, it's true.
He almost never made a serious mistake while he was sleeping.
I mean, inept! France's greatest detective!
It does test one's reality.
- Do you think he's dead? - I hope not.
- What do you think, Sir Charles? - No. Men like Clouseau never die.
They're indestructible. And that's the way it should be.
- Why? - Well, we need them.
They help us preserve our sense of humor.
And they're living proof that, however bad things get,
if you persevere you survive and sometimes even win.
So you think determination was the key to his success?
No question about it.
He was a fool but he epitomized the 11th Commandment.
- The 11th Commandment? - "Thou shalt not give up."
- I like that. - I thought you might.
- Well, goodbye. - Goodbye.
- Come and see us again. - I may do that.
You know, the man of your dreams is also a Machiavellian charmer.
I know that. Thank you.
Goodbye.
- Bye. - Bye.
- You've just passed the hotel. - Yes, ma'am.
- But that's where I wanted to go. - You see that car following us?
What about it?
Well, the two men in that car suggested I drop you off at another address.
What are you talking about?
Actually, it was more like a threat than a suggestion.
- They threatened you? - One of them showed me his brand new gun.
But who are they?
I know you'll think I'm not on the ball, but I neglected to get their names.
- You realize this is kidnapping? - Yeah.
Well, I have to be honest with you.
I couldn't come up with an alternative.
You can go to prison for life for kidnapping.
Lady, the gun he showed me was a.38 Magnum.
I don't know anything about guns.
Yeah, well, that gun makes enormous holes in things.
I had a choice between kidnapping you and getting shot with that gun.
And to be perfectly frank, I would look terrible and feel worse
with an enormous hole in me.
- Miss Jouvet, how nice of you to come. - Did I have a choice?
Actually, no. Let's go where we can be private.
- Do I have a choice? - I just wanna have a little talk with you.
- Watch your step. - I always do.
Why the B-movie melodramatics?
- You could have just picked up a telephone. - Would you have come?
To see the French godfather? Come on, Bruno, I'm a reporter.
And a terrific-lookin' one at that. Take a swim.
Come on. Let's make ourselves comfortable.
- Have a seat. - Can I have a drink?
- Do I have a choice? - Actually, no.
- How about some champagne? - Terrific. And put a fresh peach in it.
You heard the lady. Some champagne and put a peach in it.
A peach?
Yes, sir.
- I never heard of a peach in champagne before. - Very sexy.
- Make that two. - Yes, sir.
- What happens if he doesn't have any peaches? - Something very melodramatic.
Well, if it gets to that, I'll settle for plain champagne.
You know, Marie, you really are some kinda sensational lady.
And you know, Bruno, there is an old saying.
- What's that? - Never bullshit a bullshitter.
I want you to lay off on this Clouseau thing.
- Take off your glasses. - What for?
Then I can see what you're thinking.
I doubt that.
- Why do you want me to lay off Clouseau? - 'Cause I asked you to.
- It's not a good enough reason. - It should be.
What if I don't?
You know, Marie, when I was your age,
I used to sometimes wonder what it would be like
if I suddenly found a whole lot of money.
- Have you ever imagined something like that? - Oh, yes.
You know, I even imagined that some day someone might try to bribe me with a small fortune.
- Now, what did you do? - I was tempted.
- That's a good start. - But I said no.
- Not very bright. - I'm a reporter.
For better or for worse, an honest one.
Now, tell me why you want me to lay off Clouseau.
'Cause I prefer things the way they are.
Clouseau created a lot of problems.
A smart lady like you could find out he's still alive.
Or dead. I might even find out that someone killed him.
You've got a beautiful face. Why do you want to stick it in where it doesn't belong?
Because it's my job.
What good's your job if you've gotta do your TV show from a hospital bed?
I knew you were going to threaten me, but I didn't know how I was going to react.
And you know something? I've surprised myself.
Is that right?
Yes. Instead of scaring the wits out of me, you have made me angry.
In fact, I can't remember when I've been so angry.
I am a member of the press and I will not be intimidated by you or by anybody else.
- Hey, now who's being melodramatic? - You call this melodramatic? Wait till I get home!
- What are you gonna do? - Faint or throw up. Maybe both.
I won't know till I get there.
- Eight to five it's throw up. - You've got a bet.
Sir?
- Gutsy lady. - Yes, indeed, sir.
- Great ass. - I didn't notice, sir.
Arthur, there's an old saying.
- "Never bullshit a bullshitter." - Yes, of course, sir.
Yes, great arse indeed.
Bruno?
Can I get out now?
Yeah.
I don't think she has such a great ass.
- What do you expect me to do? - Arrest him.
- On what charge? - He threatened me. He had me kidnapped.
- Can you prove it? - Ask the taxi driver!
You said it was the taxi driver who kidnapped you.
Bruno's men forced him to. They had guns.
- Did you see the guns? Miss Joulet. - No, but the taxi driver told me...
I'm perfectly certain that everything you've told me is true.
- But... - But
I'm equally certain that Monsieur Langlois will deny it.
Monsieur Langlois?
- What it boils down to... - What it boils down to is his word against mine.
Exactly!
And in certain circles, Monsieur Langlois' word carries a lot of weight.
You are upset so I will ignore the innuendo.
Upset or not, Inspector, the innuendo stands.
Miss Jouvet, may I suggest that you go home and forget all about this.
Excuse me.
I shall tell you exactly where I am going to go -
I'm going to go directly to my office,
where I shall write my next broadcast about the Mafia boss who kidnapped me
and about the chief inspector of the Sûreté who refused to do anything about it.
In my opinion, that would be most unwise.
What it boils down to, Inspector, is, I don't trust your opinion.
Miss Jouvet seemed a bit upset.
Miss Jouvet is turning out to be a real pain in the a...
Aagh!
So far the incident hasn't even been investigated.
And if Bruno Langlois is in the mood to deny the allegation,
I will be happy to repeat it on the witness stand.
- She's talking about you. - Yes.
Lot of guts.
And I believe even the French godfather would think twice about challenging me in court.
As for Chief Inspector Dreyfus,
if he really is the paragon of police virtue that he purports to be,
why hasn't he even bothered to find the taxi driver and interrogate him?
- She's talking about you. - Yes.
Aah!
It's intriguing, but the more I find out about Clouseau,
the more certain interested parties would prefer that I drop my investigation.
So far, I haven't turned up anything incriminating,
but obviously I'm rocking the boat and people are getting nervous.
One thing's sure. I intend to keep on rocking until I have an answer for you.
Good night.
Inspector Clouseau's residence. Cato speaking.
I've gone to Miami Beach to spend Chinese New Year
with my maternal grandmother.
Leave a message after the bleep.
Allô?
Avon calling!
You!
Regrettably.
Inspector Clouseau's residence. Cato speaking.
I've gone to Miami Beach to spend Chinese New Year
with my maternal grandmother.
Leave a message after the bleep.
- I'm sorry. - I'm used to it.
This is Professor Auguste Balls of Paris.
You Oriental picaroon!
You can't fool me about a plane crash. He is hiding to avoid payment.
Unless I receive 4,000 francs by Friday, I'm suing.
And you can put that in your opium pipe and smoke it, you conniving Cantonese!
Who the hell is Professor Auguste Balls?
Inspector Clouseau's official disguise-maker.
- What's a picaroon? - A cheat.
- Oh, that's great. - Being called a cheat?
Some of my best friends are picaroons.
- I'm sorry I broke in. - That's OK. Keeps me in practice.
- Can I get you a cup of tea or something? - No, thanks.
- I could use an aspirin. - You see, I telephoned before.
And I really thought you'd gone to visit your grandmother in Miami.
Miami Beach. She runs a bingo parlor. She's a real picaroon.
I thought maybe I'd find something.
- Like what? - Like this.
Oh, that!
- Do you know who these people are? - His parents.
- Are they still alive? - His father is.
He lives in the Château Clouseau à Lamarque.
He's a winemaker.
Swine rabbit!
Mes chéries.
Beaujolais!
What are you doing?
Bon, bon, bon, bon.
- Au revoir, mes chéries. - Au revoir, Papa.
It doesn't taste the same since we lost Fifi.
I'm missing the great Fifi.
Fifi!
Could you tell me something about your son?
No. After four o'clock,
I can't tell you anything about my son.
- Why not after four o'clock? - Because, after tasting the wine all day,
after four o'clock I can't remember my son -
let alone tell you anything about him.
It is a miracle that I remember it is after four o'clock.
That felt good!
- Are you all right? - Of course I am all right.
I was just checking that Nanna vacuumed the rug.
Speaking of Nanna...
Fetch Nanna.
Nanna has been with me 61 years.
She was Jacques' nurse.
- Oh, really? - What?
- I said "Really?" - I know that.
Because you said Nanna was your son's nurse.
Mademoiselle, you don't have to repeat what I said.
I know what I said.
Fortunately I am not too old to have lost my memory yet.
K-nock wood.
Come in!
What am I laughing about?
I'm not sure I can explain it.
Nanna approaches.
Allez! Allez! Allez!
Apportez-moi Nanna.
Continuez.
Bon, bon, ça va bien.
A gauche! A gauche! A gauche!
A gauche! Gauche!
Sit.
Allez, à droite.
A droite.
A droite, dog.
En bas!
A gauche! A gauche!
Merci, Nanna.
En bas.
- Santé. - Santé.
She loves that dog.
Assis.
Regardez.
Regardez, dog.
No, no, Nanna. No, no, Nanna, no no.
Fifi.
My son Jacques Clouseau was born September 8th 1920.
He had his mother's eyes and his father's kidneys.
From the very beginning,
Jacques wanted to be a policeman.
He had many setbacks,
but he was always resourceful.
He was 18 when he entered the university
and fell in love.
The girl of his dreams married another.
And Jacques decided that life was not worth living.
To whom it may concern.
I find life no longer worth living.
- Fortunately, - Oh, merde.
there was a power failure.
Swine lights.
When the Germans invaded France,
Jacques joined the underground.
Swine plunger.
After the war, he joined the police force
and the rest is history.
Well, thank you, Monsieur Clouseau. It's been most interesting.
- It has? - Yes. It helps to round out my tribute.
What do you mean?
Your tribute doesn't need rounding.
You have a great-looking tribute.
- He's alive, you know. - How do you know that?
He has his mother's eyes, but his father's fortitude.
- I thought it was his kidneys. - That too.
A man with such fortitude and kidneys must be alive someplace.
- I hope so. - I knew that.
- Well, goodbye. - Au revoir.
And so, after leaving that delightful old man,
who is so firmly convinced that his famous son is still alive,
I began to wonder, "Is it possible?"
Mafia boss Bruno Langlois seems to think it is.
Sir Charles Litton feels that such men are indispensable
and therefore indestructible.
And Chief Inspector Dreyfus is so obsessed with the possibility
that he's on the verge of another nervous breakdown.
Did Inspector Clouseau really perish in the sea, as reported?
Or, for reasons as yet unknown, is he out there someplace,
plotting his next move, waiting to reveal himself when the time is right?
I am reluctant to believe that misfortune has really struck down such a great man.
Swine seagull.
We must find that woman.
Here's the report.
I will apprehend this culprit within 24 hours. Agh!
Ah!
Now we are getting somewhere.
You!
- But that's a priceless Steinway. - Not any more.
Agh!
Inspector Clouseau's residence.
- Clouseau. - One moment, please.
For you.
He's Sir Charles Phantom, the notorious Litton.
- The Phantom? - Yes. One and the same.
My greedy little yellow pimp.
Ow!
There is something that I am very interested to know. It's rumoured...
Back to town.
Follow that car.
Does your dog bite?
No.
Nice doggy.
I thought you said your dog did not bite.
That is not my dog.
- Excuse me. - Yes?
Do you know the way to the Palace Hotel?
Yes.
Special delivery. A beum. Were you expecting one?
A beum?!
You fool! You raving Oriental idiot!
There is a time and a place for everything, Cato.
And this is it.
And another thing!
I was known as the Pavlova of the parallels.
Oh, yes.
Yes, it's all coming back now.
Ah, yes, I remember it...
Aagh!
Well, that felt good.