Last week, I watched 11 movies—the entire run of The Pink Panther, sequels and reboots included.

It all started innocently enough, when I thought I’d maybe rewatch The Pink Panther, only to discover that I wasn’t at all sure that I’d ever actually seen the movie before. But I enjoyed it well enough, even if it was a little dated and Clouseau-light, so I decided to carry on with the sequel, A Shot in the Dark.

That’s maybe where I should have ended things, because the next film in the series, Inspector Clouseau, is not good at all. Alan Arkin is clearly trying. What he’s trying isn’t always clear, but he definitely is. It’s just that there isn’t a funny moment to be hand in the movie.

For some reason, though, I pressed on. The next three movies—The Return of the Pink Panther, The Pink Panther Strikes Again, and Revenge of the Pink Panther—are each okay enough. They’re also quite dated, to the point of some very unfortunate yellowface, but they’re often also silly and amusing. I think my favorite was probably Strikes Again just for how silly it gets, with Herbert Lom’s Chief Inspector Dreyfus becoming a full-out Bond villain, but they all have their moments.

I wish I could say the same for the next two films that followed. Trail of the Pink Panther is little better than a clip show, stitched together from deleted scenes and out-takes after Peter Sellers unexpectedly died early in the movie’s production. Some of those deleted scenes are kind of amusing, but most of them look like they were deleted for a reason, and the whole thing just falls apart as a narrative. Sellers’ estate reportedly successfully sued the filmmakers, and the whole thing just feels patched-together and sad. Even sadder is the very real possibility that this is the only one of these movies I had actually seen before. (I can’t say for certain, and it’s a Frankenstein of the whole rest of the series, but released in 1983, it is the first one I could have conceivably been taken to in theaters.)

Still, as bad Trail is, it can’t hold a candle to the absolutely dire Curse of the Pink Panther. If Trail was a misguided attempt to honor Sellers and the franchise, then Curse is a lamentable attempt to extend it with a spin-off nobody wanted, a complete miscalculation of a movie, just fundamentally flawed in its concept and desperately unfunny in execution. I don’t blame Ted Wass for being very confused about how to play this character, but his attempts do reveal the heart of the problem: Inspector Clouseau isn’t a funny character, Peter Sellers made him funny. Every attempt to play this material with someone else, first with Arkin and then with Wass, simply was never going to work.

Peter Ustinov was reportedly cast in the first film, before it eventually went to Sellers, and that I can see. I think Ustinov could have very successfully played the character as written in the first Pink Panther, where Clouseau is just one element of many. I don’t think the series would have carried on with that character, however. The series’ longevity owes everything to Sellers, and it was a fool’s errand asking anyone else to play the role.

So of course, that’s what they did for three more movies. Son of the Pink Panther is not as bad as Curse—and, in all fairness, I think Roberto Benigni is more under-used than miscast—but it’s also never very funny. It doesn’t even particularly feel like a Pink Panther movie, more like warmed-over James Bond. It’s a sad place to end the series, on its thirty-year anniversary no less, but it’s stumble of a step up from the movie before it.

The two Steve Martin remakes are a little better, but that’s not saying a whole lot. I did like the second one more, so it was nice to end this mad exercise on a high(er) note, but neither film was especially funny. We’ve now gone sixteen years without another attempt at the series, so hopefully that’s where things remain.

Honestly, the whole Pink Panther series is pretty checkered, with some fine but not necessarily remarkable entries, and with some utter garbage. I can’t necessarily recommend any of them, and certainly can’t in good conscience recommend running the entire series like I did.

Oh, but I did also re-watch 1972’s Asylum. I don’t think it’s the best of Amicus horror anthology movies, but it has a lot of fun moments.

I watched a dozen movies last week:

• The War of the Gargantuas does exactly what it says on the tin. Its charms are in the bad dubbing, the rubber suit monsters, and the wanton destruction of miniatures.

She-Wolf of London is fairly slight and a little silly, but June Lockhart’s quite good in it.

• Omni Loop is strange and surprising and more than a little sad, and Mary-Louise Parker is really great in it.

• Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius) is maybe more about the second half of that equation more than the first, though it certainly never skirts around the amount that Sly Stone’s blackness impacted the arc of his own self-destructive behavior and career. The documentary is an interesting look back and some genuinely terrific music.
• In her review at the time, Janet Maslin reportedly called Rock & Rule “dopey and loud,” which describes the movie very well.
• I was surprised by how seriously and thoughtfully Crossfire tackled bigotry and the violence it inspires, and there are a lot of really good performances throughout.

• More American Graffiti is interesting, though it’s a little difficult to say what its disjointed narrative is really in service of, how these stories connect in any meaningful way to one another, much less the original film.
• Stage Door is just incredibly smart and acerbic, and all of the actresses in it (Hepburn and Rogers especially) are fantastic.
• Crank is as fast-paced and high-octane as you expect, which is honestly more than a little tiring after an hour and a half, especially with not especially likable characters.

• Tin Men is honest and straightforward and often very funny.
• Memoir of a Snail is a strange and obviously deeply personal film, in some ways a much less cozy, much more Ozzie flipside of Wallace & Gromit.
• The Brutalist is sweeping yet intimate, and if what it says isn’t always groundbreaking, how it does so, and the performances used to tell the story, are nothing short of fantastic.

I also re-watched E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, which I haven’t rewatched in a few years but which remains just such an incredibly affecting film and genuinely one of Spielberg’s best.

Last week, I watched 9 movies:

• It’s not so much that Gladiator II can’t escape the shadow of the first film, it’s that it has no apparent desire to ever do so. Denzel Washington seems to be having fun, and Paul Mescal acquits himself well, but it’s difficult to see what, if anything, is the point of it all.
• Crossing is told with real compassion for its characters, even when we don’t understand, or even necessarily like them.
• I found it a little difficult to really connect with Kurosawa’s High and Low, at least as a suspenseful police procedural, but the film puts its main character, played by incomparable Toshiro Mifune, in an interesting ethical dilemma.

• Belle de Jour perhaps seemed more shocking in 1967 than it does almost 60 years later, but there is almost a quaintness to it now. That said, Catherine Deneuve remains coldly captivating, and there are intriguing surrealistic touches throughout.
• There are some interesting cinematic choices in The Picture of Dorian Gray—is it a spoiler to say that the portrait, when it’s finally seen, is photographed in color?—that I’m not entirely sure work. But the movie is always engaging.
• The Gorge is just so incredibly boring. The movie takes a ludicrous, but potentially fun, premise and does practically nothing with it, squandering also whatever chemistry the two leads have together.

• Cecil B. Demented works better in concept than execution, though there are amateurish charms to any John Waters movie.
• Of the “guy dies but returns to Earth as a guardian angel or ghost” subgenre of romantic comedy, I think I’ll take Her Comes Mr. Jordan (and its remakes) or A Matter of Life and Death over A Guy Named Joe, which is pleasant enough, thanks largely to Spencer Tracy’s charms, but takes much too long to get going, and doesn’t have much of anywhere to go when it finally does so.
• Return of the Living Dead III isn’t perfect. All of the real character development is left to the actors, and the movie is much grimmer in tone than the other two films in the series. But there’s some good creature work, interesting body horror, and at least a couple of surprisingly good performances.

I also rewatched both The Blues Brothers and The Warrirors, instead of watching the Super Bowl, which, the halftime show notwithstanding, feels like the better choice.

Last week, I watched 6 movies:

• Brigadoon is fine. The leads are good together, and I like the weirdly curmudgeonly turn by Van Johnson, but the whole thing does feel a little flat.
• Down with Love is fun enough. Roger Ebert said it was “no better or worse than the movies that inspired it, but that is a compliment, I think.” And I think he was probably right.
• Conclave is a lot of fun, with a collection of really strong performances.

• The Notebook rests mostly on the shoulders of the performances, particularly from Rachel McAdams. The love story itself isn’t much to write home about, as much as the framing story and attempts at period details try to lend it some gravitas.
• We Live in Time is another example of how great performances can lend so much weight to an otherwise incredibly shallow story. I’m not sure the story here is all that compelling, and the decision to tell it nonlinearly often feels like just a gimmick, but Garfield and Pugh keep you engaged.
• 1931’s Cimarron is often cited on lists of the most undeserving Academy Award winners, and I Wish I could say that claim was untrue. But the movie is badly dated, full of offensive racist stereotypes, poorly straddling the silent and sound era, and moreover exceptionally boring.

I also rewatched Gladiator, which I enjoyed, but which I probably won’t feel a need to watch again for another twenty-five years.

Last week, I watched 6 movies:

• The marketing for Pieces proclaimed the movie to be “exactly what you think it is.” And if what you think it is, is bad, then you’d be right. Poorly dubbed, lazily plotted, not even a little bit fun or surprising—not even if all you want is an “exactly what you think it is” no-brain slasher movie.
• The Passenger is slow, almost meandering, and I never really got a handle on why Jack Nicholson’s character was doing the things he was doing. But I also feel that’s deliberate, that his motives are alien even to himself, and I was nevertheless pulled into the quiet rhythms of the movie.
• A Quiet Place Day: Day One has no right being any good, much less as good as it is. A lot of that’s the very simple take it has on this story, not trying to reinvent what we already know, or even necessarily add to it, but letting us see it through other characters’ eyes. It’s helped enormously by the performances, particularly by Lupita Nyong’o, but it’s also a really well directed film about human connection even in the face of inexplicable fear and tragedy. I would never have expected the director of Pig to make a Quiet Place prequel, but this is everything I could have hoped for from that venture.

• It’s difficult to talk about Magpie without talking about the twists—even hinting that there are twists might be going a little too far—but they’re clever and fun, even if the film maybe doesn’t do entirely enough to earn them or its ending.
• The Tuskegee Airmen can’t entirely shake its TV movie budgets, especially in the aerial dogfights, and there is occasionally the “well, we cured racism then” feel you can sometimes get with movies like this. (If only the filmmakers had known.) But it remains a really important story, and the movie has some very strong performances, especially from Laurence Fishburne and Andre Braugher.
• The Order left me a little cold, despite some terrific tension and strong performances.

I also rewatched The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension, which I saw much too late for it to be one of my own go-to cult movies, but which is delightfully strange and silly nonetheless.