Nor was my favorite moment watching Blake Edwards off stage, the fabled lion now hairless and shrunken, aged pink panther just a puddle of gray at the bottom of a wheelchair, audience rises as he's introduced; the old man begins to roll forward, quickly loses control of the vehicle which shoots across the stage and through a wall in the set. The crowd doesn't know whether to laugh or stop clapping, so they do both. Then the orchestra joins in and stops playing. And we're all waiting with mounting anxiety to see whether or not the man is okay. Except that Jim Carrey's a lousy actor. "Oh, no!" he exclaims. So fakey. Then Blake Edwards steps out in a plasterized coat, and he's okay, of course, because he's either a different guy, or he did the stunt himself. We'll never know unless we find someone who's interested.
That was not my favorite moment. I thought it was making fun of people in wheelchairs a little bit. And old people. Mainly it was a smear to actors and acting. You don't ask Jim Carrey to play understatement. He can't. It's like asking a manic to play a depressive. You don't give Carrey a secret because he'll tell it. Nor do you give him a supporting role. The sketch didn't come off because he tipped it the moment he got serious.
I knew, you knew, they knew, we knew, so it was stupid. Lack of laughs provided the evidence. Audiences don't like to be duped. If there's an accident, they expect it to be real, and they expect live remote.
See, if I'd written the show, I would have followed through, creating a "bridge to nowhere" to keep the audience coming back. How's Blake? There's a priest? He's Catholic? Julie Andrews, distraught, talking to police, boobs hanging out, feeling feelings, thinking about Mary Poppins, how alive those hills...