Confess, Fletch
Jon Hamm takes a stab at the role made famous by Chevy Chase in this low-key mystery lark.
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To a certain set of folks, 1985’s “Fletch” is damned near the comedic gold standard. I must admit I’d never seen the Chevy Chase vehicle front-to-back prior to renting and watching it last week as research for this review.
Studios (Miramax, The Weinstein Company, Warner Bros., Relativity Media), directors (Kevin Smith, Bill Lawrence, Steve Pink) and actors (Jason Lee, Ben Affleck, Ryan Reynolds, Zach Braff, Justin Long, Joshua Jackson, Jason Sudeikis) have attempted to revive the “Fletch” franchise since the late 1990s to no avail.
The slump ends this week with the release of the Miramax-distributed (now owned by Paramount), Greg Mottola-directed and Jon Hamm-starring “Confess, Fletch” (available in select theaters – including Indianapolis-area venues AMC Indianapolis 17, AMC Perry Crossing 18 and Regal Greenwood & RPX – and on VOD beginning Friday, Sept. 16 before premiering on Showtime Friday, Oct. 28).
Irwin M. ‘Fletch’ Fletcher (Hamm) has hung up the investigative journalism game in favor of living in Rome and becoming an arts writer. He’s bedding the much younger Angela (Lorenza Izzo of “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood”) and life’s looking good. That is until Angela’s wealthy father (Robert Picardo) is kidnapped with the ransom being some priceless paintings belonging to the patriarch.
Angela suspects her stepmother The Countess (Marcia Gay Harden) has something to do with her Dad’s disappearance and sends Fletch to Boston in order to investigate and broker a deal with academician/art dealer Horan (Kyle MacLachlan). She sets him up with lodging at a townhouse apartment belonging to Owen (John Behlmann). Unfortunately, he discovers a young lady’s dead body there. Police officers Inspector Monroe (comedian Roy Wood Jr.) and Griz (Ayden Mayeri, late of “Spin Me Round”) believe Fletch is their killer.
Fletch must now solve both Angela’s father’s kidnapping and the woman’s murder to absolve himself of any wrongdoing. He reaches out to his former editor Frank (Hamm’s “Mad Men” co-star Frank Slattery embodying Richard Libertini’s role from the original) for assistance.
“Confess, Fletch” feels less like Michael Ritchie’s film and more akin to a Steven Soderbergh caper flick along the lines of “Out of Sight” or the “Ocean’s” franchise. I’ve almost always enjoyed Mottola’s work and this is true of “Confess, Fletch” too. It’s far less goofy than the likes of “Superbad” or “Paul” and also less earnest than “Adventureland.” This is the third movie Mottola has made with Hamm after HBO’s “Clear History” and the ill-advised “Keeping Up with the Joneses.” It’s not as funny as the former nor as bombastic as the latter. It manages to be both dry and slick. It’s humorous, but not in a ha-ha way.
Hamm has always struck me as the handsomest guy in the room who also longs to be the funniest, which makes his take on Fletch all the more surprising. Gone are the costumes, fake teeth and Lakers jersey (replaced with a Lakers cap) Chase employed as Fletch. Hamm’s Fletch does engage in some of the same extemporaneous lying Chase’s Fletch did, but it’s far less frequent and far less farcical. Hamm’s dry delivery works in lockstep with the tone Mottola and his co-writer Zev Borow (a co-executive producer, co-showrunner and writer on Josh Brolin’s Amazon Prime series “Outer Range”) have established.
I haven’t read the Gregory McDonald “Fletch” books, but suspect “Confess, Fletch” hews closer to the author’s tone than Ritchie and Chase’s movie did. Rumor has it Hamm wants to embody the character again in future installments and I’m open to it as this one’s a low-key lark. It’s probably best enjoyed with a Bloody Mary, a steak sandwich and a steak sandwich … just make sure to put ‘em on the Underhill’s tab.