Confess, Fletch

Jon Hamm

I had minimal expectations for Greg Mottola's Confess, Fletch, a mid to low budget comedy released with little fanfare last fall, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it to be one of the better American comedies of the 21st century. The film makes no great claim to social significance, hence the muted acclaim by critics, but I think it succeeds in what it sets out to do: evoke the screwball farces of the 1930s in which all characters are satirized and celebrated for their eccentricities. The mystery story frame of Confess, Fletch is as flimsy as the one in The Thin Man. The focus is on the characters in a farce in which the cops are as batty as the suspects.

Mottola and his collaborators have tailored this Fletch to their leading man, Jon Hamm, so the goofy disguises and pratfalls of the Chevy Chase films are absent. Hamm is not quite as idiotic as Chase was in the role, but is equally smug and clueless. It is a canny lead performance, much closer to the Fletch of Gregory Mcdonald's novels than the skit show schtick of Mr. Chase. Fletch's foil, Francis Xavier Flynn, is absent, but there are so many memorable supporting players in the film, he is not missed. Mottola's skill with his actors is evident in his best films, The Daytrippers, Superbad, and Adventureland, all featuring a host of memorable bit players. Ayden Mayeri and Annie Mumolo stand out, but there are no indifferent performances in Confess, Fletch. Mottola may not have much more to impart than a celebration of idiosyncrasy, but, as with Capra, Hawks, La Cava, McCarey et al, it is a comic style of madcap individualism that exudes humanism.