If you say “Fletch” to people 40 and up, Chevy Chase immediately comes to mind. Chase’s portrayal of Irwin “Fletch” Fletcher, a former investigative-reporter-turned-detective in the ’80s comedies Fletch and Fletch Lives, linked him forever with the title character.
But Jon Hamm has wanted to revive the wisecracking investigator for years, and his long-gestating pet project has finally come to fruition with director Greg Mottola’s funny and unpretentious Confess, Fletch. Hamm’s take on the lead character is less goofy and more self-effacing than Chase’s, cleaving more closely to Gregory Mcdonald’s original Fletch novels. He successfully reinvents Fletch in a straightforward, breezy comedy that defies deep analysis and stays consistently amusing.
Set mostly in Boston, Confess, Fletch finds the private investigator looking into an Italian count’s kidnapping and missing paintings, including a $20 million Picasso. After discovering a seemingly unrelated corpse in his Airbnb rental, Fletch finds himself being questioned for murder by police detective Morris “Slo Mo” Monroe (Roy Wood, Jr.) and his assistant Griz (Ayden Mayeri). Fletch’s work is further complicated by romantic involvement with the count’s daughter, Angela (Lorenza Izzo), and the irksome presence of her stepmother, the contessa (Marcia Gay Harden). An inveterate liar, the relentlessly glib Fletch assumes various ridiculous aliases and personas to solve the mystery and clear his name.
Confess, Fletch is largely character driven, and the cast and the script really sell it. Mottola’s direction is not about visual flourishes or tricky camera angles: He points his camera at his very able cast and lets them do their work. This approach works better in comedy—especially a modestly budgeted one like this—than perhaps any other genre.
The supporting cast members make distinct impressions in their disparate comic roles, particularly Kyle MacLachlan as a shady art dealer, Annie Mumolo as Fletch’s stoned, oblivious neighbor, and Hamm’s fellow “Mad Men” alum John Slattery as a foul-mouthed, cantankerous former co-worker. Airhead interior decorator Tatiana’s (Lucy Punch) klutzy attempt to define bespoke is a standout scene. And hilarious bits by Kenneth Kimmins as a yacht club’s chatty commodore and Eugene Mirman as its security guard are vivid reminders of how skilled character actors can make even minimal roles funny and memorable.
Another highlight of Confess, Fletch is its soundtrack of vintage Blue Note Records jazz. Mottola is an avowed Blue Note fan, and building the film around the label’s classics was a labor of love. By making Detective Monroe a jazz aficionado, tracks get organically worked into various scenes throughout the film, and the audience is treated to outstanding pieces by Astrud Gilberto and Walter Wanderley, Chet Baker, Dexter Gordon, and Art Blakey.
Confess, Fletch isn’t deep cinema; it’s a relatively low-key comedy that will amuse some people and probably not others, which is all it needs to be. Fans of the ’80s Fletch might be put off by the lack of goofy disguises and Chase-style farce, but younger viewers won’t remember them. The steady stream of laughs from solid performers—anchored by Hamm—make Confess, Fletch a worthy stand-alone film and not just another dull reimagining.
Confess, Fletch
R, 99 minutes
Amazon Prime