Blake Edwards: In the Pink

Like his bumbling screen detective, Inspector Clouseau, Blake Edwards is a survivor. The 77-year-old filmmaker has covered a lot of territory, from the sublime “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” (1961) to the outrageous “S.O.B.” (1981). And although he will forever be associated with the commercially successful “Pink Panther” film series and “10” (1979), his artistic triumph remains the uproarious and elegant “Victor/Victoria” (1982). Yet the full measure of his talent can be found in such overlooked films as “Darling Lili” (1970), “Experiment in Terror” (1962) and “Wild Rovers” (1971), which explore the depths of human frailty with compassion and sometimes absurdity.

Unpredictability is everything in an Edwards film. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they usually do, and in the most hysterical and humiliating ways. As if to illustrate the point, a lens accidentally pops out of the frame while he plays with his glasses during a recent interview in his penthouse office. “I am Clouseau,” he quips. “It’s the story of my life.”

However, the resilient director launched his film career at just the right time, when an exciting, new and independent Hollywood overtook the old studio system in the ‘60s. Edwards worked at the height of the feminist and sexual revolutions, and it shows in his diverse films, in which love and marriage and the male ego take quite a pounding. Then again, you come away from an Edwards film with the firm belief that nothing can be taken for granted, so you had better toughen up.

Friday through Nov. 27, Edwards will be the subject of a film tribute at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. He will appear in person Nov. 13 with a screening of “S.O.B.,” his vicious attack on the Hollywood power brokers who some would say have bottom-lined creativity out of the industry. Seeing him today, in pre-production on “It Never Rains,” an independently produced film to star Chevy Chase as a struggling writer, you immediately sense that he’s lost the spring in his step but none of his vital sense of humor.

Question: Whatever genre you’ve explored, there’s always a provocative and even subversive exploration of love and sexual identity. Did you run into many problems getting this subject matter on screen?

Answer: Many times. It took me six years to get “10” made. And then I literally had to blackmail the company by saying I would do another “Panther” for them. I didn’t, but it paid off.

Q: Even “The Pink Panther” series undermines male dominance in a very farcical way.

A. I’ll take your word for it. I don’t analyze my films like that. I have enough trouble analyzing my life. I like that kind of robust humor. Most critics like to call it slapstick, but they don’t know the first thing about slapstick. I feel like one of the early barnstorming pilots that flew by the seat of their pants--there were a lot of things that affected me, made up my view of humor and comedy. The old-timers when I was young. Like Laurel and Hardy. I was fortunate when I was very young in my craft to be involved with filmmakers who would do that kind of humor. And I learned almost by osmosis. You couldn’t help finding yourself really laughing from the gut, being interested in why that takes the blues away.

Q: You could say “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is about taking the blues away. Did Audrey Hepburn surprise you in any way?

A: No, not really. I was in love with her before that movie. I wasn’t surprised, except by her sense of humor. She certainly showed great enthusiasm. But she was that way in anything she did. I think she did more for me.

Q: As did [film composer] Henry Mancini. How did you two meet?

A: As it’s happened so much in my life, there was a kind of serendipity. I was just getting a break at Universal, and I felt a show needed a love theme. They asked me to come over and listen to something. I thought, “Jesus, this is really good. Where did you get that?” And they introduced me to Hank. I was walking into the commissary and he was coming out, and I yelled, “Hey, Hank.” And he said, “Hi, coach.” I said, “You wanna do a television show?” He said, “Sure.” I sent him over the script, and he read it and asked if he could do jazz. I told him he could do anything he liked. And that was the beginning of “Peter Gunn.”

Q: And Julie Andrews?

A: I had an idea for a script dealing with a Mata Hari, a female spy, who was an entertainer [“Darling Lili”]. I made an appointment with her agent, and I went up to her house--and that was it. It just kind of happened. But she wanted me to stay for dinner and I couldn’t. And I didn’t call for two weeks, and she said, “Well, that was a real bust.” And I was sick. I was really suffering. And then I did call and we started seeing each other. Nothing terribly unusual about it; we just fell in love.

Q: And you’ve been married for 30 years. Although “Darling Lili” was a notorious box office failure and the inspiration for “S.O.B,” it may be your richest film. It’s every Blake Edwards film rolled into one.

A: You know, films like that drive me crazy. Because I think that I’m objective enough to know even when I’m not being objective. There’s so much good stuff in that film. There were two big problems that I passionately fought. From the very beginning, I told Paramount they were nuts for wanting to shoot on location in Ireland. Because this is not an easy film to do, and you’re making it 10 times more difficult with the [expletive] weather. And not only that, we were so preoccupied with the aerial photography; and they insisted I use every bit of it. Plus, as we went along, I began to see that the degree of the musical numbers threw the whole thing off pace. So it wasn’t the film that I truly wanted to make, but I thought it was a good film.

Q: The other great collaboration, of course, was with Peter Sellers.

A: That was a fluke too. Peter Ustinov backed out of “The Pink Panther” after we couldn’t deliver Ava Gardner. I was desperate to make this film. So I took a chance with Peter. I met him in Rome, and we drove from the airport to the hotel. By the time we got to the hotel, we found out that in very important respects we were soul mates. That we both adored Laurel and Hardy and [Buster] Keaton and you name it. And we were testing each other to see who knew the most. And he really knew a lot. He said, “Well, can we do that with this character?” And I said, “Absolutely, you bet.” And that was the beginning. He was a total schizophrenic. One film he was sensational; the next film he was a horror. You know, calling me up in the middle of the night and telling me he just spoke with God, who told him how to do the scene. I told him: “Tell God to stay out of show business.”