Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Confess, Fletch’ on VOD, in Which Jon Hamm Ably Cops the Role Chevy Chase Made Famous

Now on VOD services like Prime Video (and coming soon to Showtime), Confess, Fletch recasts Jon Hamm as the wisecracking investigative reporter originally played – quite memorably, I might add – in a pair of 1980s films by comedy icon Chevy Chase, adapting the character from Gregory Mcdonald’s series of novels. This third outing for Fletch has been in the works for decades (Kevin Smith, Zach Braff and Jason Sudeikis all touched it at some point), and arrives with all the fanfare you’d expect for a flat-out, unabashed, unapologetic comedy in 2022 – namely, not much. Which is a shame, because this movie is a lot of fun.

CONFESS, FLETCH: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Fletch (Hamm), real name I.M. Fletcher, which unabbreviates to Irwin Maurice Fletcher, is no longer an investigative reporter, as we’ll soon learn. Right now, he walks into an expensive Boston townhouse (rented by his girlfriend, as we’ll soon learn) with a big tank full of exotic fish (named after famous painters, as we’ll soon learn) and finds a dead body on the floor (which he had nothing to do with, as we don’t need to soon learn, because if we know Fletch, he’s many things, but not a murderer). He nonchalantly calls the police. Not 911, but the main police line. Why bother, he reasons; the woman is dead and nothing can save her now. And so we meet the first two eccentric supporting characters in this Fletch plot, the cops on the case: grizzled vet Monroe (Roy Wood Jr.) and green rookie Griz (Ayden Mayeri). Being first isn’t necessarily best in a Fletch movie, because it means they’ll be mercilessly f—ed with for longer than all the other characters.

We learn now that Fletch always introduces himself as a former investigative reporter “of some repute.” These days, he travels the world writing about art, sometimes for those crappy in-flight magazines, although knowing Fletch, that could be bullshit, and just a funny thing to say to people in order to keep them a little off-guard. Did I mention that Monroe and Griz consider him to be the prime homicide suspect? No? Well, they do. That’s one half of the plot. The other half starts a month prior, when Fletch is in Italy, and meets Angela (Lorenza Izzo). They banter a little. “You can call me,” he says, and then there’s a smash-cut to his hotel-room bed, and she moans, “Oooooohhh, Fletch!” Angela’s father is a Count who has humungo money, so he collects art. Some of his paintings were recently stolen. And then he was kidnapped. And now the kidnappers want ransom. And for that ransom they want a painting. One of the stolen paintings, of course. A Picasso. Fletch gets a lead on the Picasso, which brings him to Boston, and now we’re caught up.

As for where this setup takes us, well, it’s ludicrously convoluted. I gave up following it. I think you’re supposed to. The point here is Fletch, who slithers in and out of situations in a kooky manner, the whole time dealing with a parade of weirdos: A nutty germophobic art broker played by Kyle MacLachlan. Angela’s possibly scheming stepmother, who calls herself the Countess, played by Marcia Gay Harden as only Marcia Gay Harden can. The woman-with-a-dog who lives in the neighboring townhouse who takes absent-mindedness to a whole new level, played by Annie Mumolo. The newspaper editor who, quite accurately for his line of work, looks like he just rolled out of bed after spending 18 months straight in it, played by John Slattery (please note the succulent Mad Men reunion). Does Fletch find the Picasso and dodge the murder charge and rescue the kidnapped old man? NO SPOILERS, although none of that matters in the slightest.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: This is thee definitive ranking of the Fletches:

1. Fletch – minor classic
2. Confess, Fletch – consistently amusing
3. [This space reserved for another Hamm outing (definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him do another one)]
4. Fletch Lives – big crashing dud
5. (This is where the Kevin Smith one probably would’ve landed had it been made)
6. [This space reserved for a Fletch series, which is an omnipresent possibility (Please don’t make Fletch a series; we have way too much TV right now)]

Performance Worth Watching: Funny how MacLachlan is a small riot in this movie, yet is the least of this bunch of odd-duck performances. Harden steals a scene or two and Slattery steals a scene or two and Mayeri cheerfully hits many slapstick marks, but Mumolo plays the movie’s most insanely, egregiously pointless loon of a character here, which is quite an achievement.

Memorable Dialogue: “Confessssssss, Flessssch!” – Harden unleashes an absurd Italian accent as the Countess purr-slurs the movie title

Sex and Skin: Just a brief scene of non-nude sexy content.

Our Take: OK, don’t look it up, just tell me what the plot of Fletch was about. Right – who cares. The movie’s about watching Chevy Chase navigate the premise at peak irreverence. That’s the Fletch Way: Take nothing seriously, not even murder. To call the plot of Confess, Fletch a wild goose chase is gross understatement. It makes chasing geese look like playing chess. The overarching purpose of the film is, simply, sticking to the bit, no matter how ludicrous it gets. Art theft? Abduction? Death? All exist in this reality to be brushed off by Fletch in the most flippant manner possible.

Yet – and here’s the great irony of the character – he’s still a guy we root for. We want to see him absolve himself, solve the case, get the girl. We kind of wish we were as easygoing, persuasive, self-confident and quick-thinking as Fletch; it might save a lot of dough on therapy. Obligatory comparison: Chase was more astringent in the title role, and maybe even existentially bitter, where Hamm is a touch gentler, less cynical in tone. Here’s the main difference: Chase lifts one eyebrow and cuts through you. Hamm lifts both, and softens your resolve. Both are funny. Laugh, and lose yourself for a while, it won’t hurt a bit.

Our Call: STREAM IT. It’s nice to see Fletch back, and in fine form.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com.