Confess, Fletch

It might be set in the present day, with references to social media and the pandemic, but Confess, Fletch conveys a distinctly nostalgic vibe in restarting the comedy franchise popularized by Chevy Chase’s portrayal of the motormouthed journalist turned eccentric sleuth.

This update from director Greg Mottola (Superbad) tries to strike a balance between paying affectionate tribute to the original 1980s films — along with the source novels by Gregory McDonald — and capturing a new generation of fans.

In this case, that familiar strategy yields mostly successful results, thanks in large part to Jon Hamm’s amusing performance that puts a fresh spin on the title character that complements, rather than contradicts, Chase’s take.

Fletch is now a former investigative journalist ostensibly conducting research for a book while romancing a younger Italian woman (Lorenza Izzo) whose art-collecting father has been kidnapped.

That sends Fletch back into gumshoe mode as he flies to Boston, where his signature Los Angeles Lakers cap doesn’t go over so well. The case is complicated by a stolen Picasso and a dead body, which may or may not be connected.

At any rate, his nonchalant investigative tactics, cause Fletch to run afoul of an exasperated local detective (Roy Wood Jr.) who suspects he committed the murder.

Regardless of whether he’s snooping around the house of a germophobe professor (Kyle MacLachlan) or warding off the advances of his girlfriend’s countess stepmother (Marcia Gay Harden), Fletch always has a quip at the ready, no matter how tenuous the circumstances.

Hamm retains the character’s offbeat charm and unassuming shrewdness, along with his bumbling opportunism, even if his macho chauvinism has been tamed for contemporary palatability. Dialing back some silliness, he tosses around a handful of hilarious zingers amid the screenplay’s array of rapid-fire one-liners, simultaneously poking fun at stuffy affluence in the art world.

The jokes are hit-and-miss, and so is the parade of quirky oddballs Fletch meets along the way, with Annie Mumolo (Bridesmaids) stealing her scenes as a gleefully oblivious neighbor. So does Hamm’s former “Mad Men” co-star John Slattery as cantankerous reporter Frank — memorably played by Richard Libertini in the original film — who matches Fletch’s sardonic insults.

The convoluted central mystery lacks much intrigue alongside its obligatory twists and red herrings. But thanks to a lively pace and a rejuvenated Fletch, no confession is necessary.

Rated R, 99 minutes.