Fresh off a screening of Murder by Death as part of the Brattle’s Peter Sellers retrospective, I’m well aware of the duds in his career, in among the gems. But the Pink Panther series, for whatever reason, seems to have taken on an afterlife of its own, slowly deteriorating and becoming more absurd (in a sad, pathetic way, rather than a brilliant, driving a Citröen into a swimming pool kind of way).

The Pink Panther series, has, throughout its life, been a series of exploitations and rip-offs, which in no way contradicts the fact that it’s one of my favorite series of films, period. A Shot in the Dark was hastily made to capitalize on the success of Sellers’ scene-stealing turn as Clouseau in The Pink Panther. Years later, looking for a shot in the arm, Sellers returned to the character for, what else, The Return of the Pink Panther in 1974, followed by Strikes Again (1976) and Revenge (1978).

Then the real junk began, which, of course, Scott and I still ate up when we were kids, not really knowing any better. Trail of the Pink Panther (1983), made after Sellers’ death, was essentially an outtakes compilation strung together with new footage of other cast members, flashback sequences, and Rich Little doing his best Clouseau impressions.

Ted Wass, better known as the dad from “Blossom,” then stepped in to play the world’s second worst detective in The Curse of the Pink Panther (1983), sent by the Sureté to find the “lost” Clouseau. Tired yet?

Never content to let a dead franchise lie, Blake Edwards and UA resurrected the Panther once again with Roberto Benigni in the role of Clouseau’s son in Son of the Pink Panther (1995), which featured Panther regulars Herbert Lom, Bert Kwouk, Graham Stark, and Claudia Cardinale, in full-on ‘last hurrah’ mode.

All of this leads us to the fast-approaching 147th installment in the series (ok, so it’s only the ninth, but…), this time blissfully free of any meddling by Blake Edwards, Chief Inspector Dreyfus, Kato, Auguste Balls, Hercule LeJoy, or anyone else associated with the original series. Instead, we have Steve Martin, Beyoncé, Jean Reno, Emily Mortimer, Roger Rees, and Kevin Kline. All of them fine in their own worlds, I guess, but a recipe for disaster in a remake/prequel about a bumbling French detective. I can’t wait to be proven wrong, but I’m afraid I might not even make it to the theater.