Alright, fellow tapeheads, slide that well-worn copy of Fletch into the VCR, adjust the tracking just so, and let’s talk about one of the absolute pinnacles of 80s comedy charisma. Forget complex plot mechanics or deep character arcs for a moment; this 1985 gem runs purely on the effortless, deadpan cool of Chevy Chase at the absolute height of his powers. Finding this tape on the rental shelf felt like uncovering gold – a promise of sharp wit, silly disguises, and a vibe that was pure, unadulterated mid-80s Los Angeles.
Undercover and Over the Top
The premise, drawn from Gregory Mcdonald's popular novels, is deceptively simple: Irwin M. "Fletch" Fletcher (Chevy Chase), an L.A. investigative reporter writing under the unassuming byline "Jane Doe," is working undercover on a drug trafficking story down at the beach. Out of the blue, he's approached by wealthy aviation executive Alan Stanwyk (Tim Matheson) with a bizarre proposition: murder Stanwyk, who claims to be terminally ill, for a hefty sum. Smelling a bigger story (and let's be honest, just unable to resist poking the hornet's nest), Fletch dives headfirst into a tangle of corporate corruption, police brutality, bigamy, and questionable poolside fashion.
What elevates Fletch from a standard mystery-comedy is Chase himself. This wasn't just acting; it felt like Chase was Fletch. Reportedly, while Andrew Bergman (the genius behind The In-Laws and Blazing Saddles) delivered a solid script structure, Chase improvised a significant chunk of his dialogue, lending the character that spontaneous, quick-witted energy that defined him. Think about those aliases: Gordon Liddy, Harry S. Truman, Ted Nugent! Each one delivered with that trademark smirk, a perfect blend of arrogance and charm that somehow never becomes truly unlikable. It's hard to imagine anyone else in the role, though names like Richard Dreyfuss and even Mick Jagger were apparently floated early on – can you picture that?
The Ritchie Touch and That Synth Beat
Director Michael Ritchie, known for subtly satirical works like The Bad News Bears (1976) and Smile (1975), brings a wonderfully grounded feel to the proceedings. He doesn't try to compete with Chase's comedic whirlwind; instead, he expertly frames it, letting the humor land naturally. Ritchie captures a specific slice of 80s L.A. – the sun-drenched beaches, the slightly sterile corporate offices, the vaguely menacing suburban sprawl. It feels lived-in, not like a hyper-stylized fantasy version of the era. This allows the absurdity of Fletch's situations and his increasingly outlandish lies ("It's all ball bearings nowadays!") to pop even more effectively.
And let’s not forget the score! Harold Faltermeyer, hot off his era-defining work on Beverly Hills Cop (1984), delivers another instantly recognizable synth-heavy soundtrack. It’s pure 80s audio bliss – propulsive, slightly goofy, and perfectly complementing Fletch’s nonchalant attitude as he breezes through dangerous situations. That main theme practically screams cruising down the PCH with the top down.
More Than Just Chevy
While Chase is undoubtedly the main attraction, the supporting cast holds their own. Joe Don Baker is delightfully menacing as the corrupt Police Chief Karlin, a perfect foil for Fletch’s irreverence. Remember Fletch's check-up scene with the proctologist? Pure comedic gold derived from Fletch turning the tables on authority figures. Dana Wheeler-Nicholson provides the necessary charm and eventual romantic interest as Gail Stanwyk, Alan’s wife, navigating the increasingly bizarre circumstances Fletch drags her into. And keep an eye out for a young Geena Davis as Larry, Fletch's perpetually exasperated colleague at the newspaper. Even the smaller roles feel perfectly cast, adding to the film's lived-in texture.
From Page to Screen (and Shelf)
It's worth noting that Mcdonald's original Fletch novels were actually quite a bit darker and more cynical. The film wisely leans into Chase's comedic strengths, softening the edges but retaining the core investigative plot. Mcdonald himself was initially skeptical of Chase's casting but reportedly came around after seeing the final product. And audiences definitely agreed. Made for a relatively modest $8 million, Fletch pulled in nearly $60 million worldwide – a solid hit that found an even larger, more devoted audience on VHS and cable, becoming endlessly quotable. I distinctly remember renting this tape multiple times, reciting lines with friends until the dialogue felt like second nature.
The film isn't perfect, of course. The central mystery isn't exactly Agatha Christie, and some of the 80s sensibilities might feel a bit dated now. But those aren't the reasons we keep coming back. We come back for Fletch himself – the master of the quick comeback, the king of the ridiculous disguise, the effortlessly cool reporter who always seems one step ahead (even when he's clearly making it up as he goes along). Remember that Lakers fantasy sequence? Pure, unadulterated 80s wish fulfillment, and utterly charming in its execution.
Rating: 8.5/10
Justification: Fletch earns this score through the sheer force of Chevy Chase's iconic, perfectly calibrated performance, Andrew Bergman's sharp writing, and Michael Ritchie's assured, character-focused direction. It blends mystery and comedy seamlessly, anchored by unforgettable dialogue and a pitch-perfect 80s atmosphere, further enhanced by Harold Faltermeyer's classic synth score. While the plot is secondary to the laughs, the film's enduring quotability and effortless charm make it a standout of the era and a cornerstone of the comedy section in any self-respecting VHS collection.
Final Take: Put it on the Underhills' bill. Fletch remains a masterclass in star-driven comedy, a time capsule of 80s cool that still feels remarkably fresh and funny today, even through a layer of glorious VHS fuzz.