Get a load of disguise.
When it comes to cinematic detectives, they tend to fall into one of two camps: the grizzled professionals, weary from years of experience, or the clueless buffoons who bumble their way into solving cases. And then there’s Fletch (1985), which poses the question: What if the smartest guy in the room was also the least invested?
Based on Gregory Mcdonald’s series of novels, Fletch gave Chevy Chase what might be his most tailor-made role. As Irwin M. Fletcher, Chase brings all of his signature smirking irreverence to a character who thrives on deception, adopting disguises and spinning absurd cover stories with the kind of breezy confidence that only works when everyone around you is just gullible enough to buy it. It’s a performance that walks the line between self-aware and self-indulgent, but thanks to the strength of the materia – and Chase’s undeniable charisma – it never tips too far into the latter.
The plot, a winding mystery of shady businessmen, corrupt cops, and beachfront drug deals, is the kind of convoluted affair that’s secondary to the real appeal: watching Fletch improvise his way through situations with increasingly elaborate personas. He’s a reporter, not a detective, which only adds to the fun – his investigative style is less methodical deduction and more relentless, quick-witted trickery. The fact that he’s genuinely good at it just makes him all the more entertaining to watch.
Director Michael Ritchie, known for his satirical touch in films like The Candidate and Smile, keeps things moving at a sharp clip. The film balances comedy and mystery without leaning too heavily on either. The jokes land, but they never derail the story, and the central mystery—while ultimately an excuse for Chase to showcase his gift for verbal gymnastics—remains engaging enough to hold everything together. It’s a film that understands its strengths and plays to them without overcomplicating things.
For all its strengths, Fletch is still a product of its time, with some of its humour and characterisations feeling distinctly mid-’80s. But unlike some of Chase’s other starring vehicles, it hasn’t aged into irrelevance. If anything, its blend of breezy irreverence and sharp dialogue makes it feel ahead of its time. The film’s influence can be seen in everything from Burn Notice to Archer, where smug, fast-talking protagonists lie their way through danger with effortless charm.
Despite its success, Fletch never quite became the long-running franchise it seemed poised to be. A sequel, Fletch Lives (1989), failed to recapture the original’s magic, and various attempts to reboot the character have sputtered over the decades. Most recently, Jon Hamm took a swing at the role in Confess, Fletch (2022), a more subdued take that lacked the sheer manic energy of Chase’s performance but at least proved there was still life in the character.
Nearly 40 years later, Fletch remains one of the great forgotten comedies of the ‘80s. Not quite a cult classic, not quite a mainstream institution, it occupies a strange middle ground – fondly remembered but rarely revisited. Maybe that’s fitting for a character like Fletch: always slipping in and out of identities, impossible to pin down, and forever just a little too clever for his own good.
