Fletch, Blazing Saddles, and Beverly Hills Cop are on Netflix right now. i'd only seen Saddles before, decades ago and mostly forgotten. the first two did not age well. the third aged alarmingly well.
i've never been much of a Mel Brooks appreciator (maybe Spaceballs is ok?) but gosh, almost no laffs were had in Blazing Saddles. it is wild to imagine silent gens and boomers like my parents losing their shit to this in 1974, deeming it an influential masterpiece of the comedic form, while to me it's near completely chuckle-free. it's silly! it's got some fun performances and lines. but what once seemed the height of comic absurdity, like punching a horse--can you believe it?!--is now beyond passé. we punch horses all the time!
(on a serious note, i found the film's many depictions of horses being tripped and made to fall in service of various jokes and stunts, or even just being scared, disturbing from a welfare perspective.)
the one thing i quite liked was the generous lead performance by Cleavon Little, previously unknown to me and very charming. (also, a blockbuster '70s comedy lead by a Black actor, pretty cool.) and Gene Wilder is along in a strange but very Wilder capacity as a gentle sort of down-and-out gunslinger. the genuine affection evinced between these two was a surprising bright spot for me. Madeline Kahn gets a pass too, just for being Madeline Kahn.
Fletch was a big hit for Chevy Chase in 1985. it's based on a series of novels and he plays a newspaper reporter who acts more like a detective.
the first scene of Fletch is fun because it's just so utterly bonkers in conception; Chevy Chase's reporter is undercover trying to get dirt for a story on how a dilapidated beach is rife with illegal dealing. it's unbelievable how he just fits in perfectly, on a first-name basis with not just the strung-out homeless folk but lead suspect George Wendt, and then he's walking under the piers when a millionaire businessman kicks the story into gear by offering him $1,000 to hear a (criminal) proposal. none of this makes a lick of sense but it's rad how just five minutes in the plot is already going full throttle. in more ways than one Chase's Fletch is the center of his own universe.
but his character doesn't really make sense, and even less so with the dead-eyed Chase's endless stream of smirking sarcasm. we only rarely glimpse a human inside, and because the character's motivation isn't believable it's hard to care about the mildly weird conspiracy he ends up uncovering.
apparently in the much-derided sequel, 1989's Fletch Lives, Fletch inherits a mansion in the south, finds a local girlfriend, and when she gets murdered (setting the plot in motion) rather than grieving or displaying sorrow all the character does is quip and make jokes about his dead fucking gf, i suppose completing the transformation into grotesque that was already well along in the one i watched. no thanks.
John Hamm had a go at playing the character in 2022's Confess, Fletch, based on one of the novels. sounds like he acquits himself well.
funnily enough, an argument could be made that 1984's Eddie Murphy star turn Beverly Hills Cop, which i greatly enjoyed, is actually the most disturbing of this trio. why? because of how effortlessly it makes us like and empathize with its charming fucking cops, typical pieces of shit who lie and break the law to win the day, protect their own from scrutiny, and get the bad guys.
the film--which, like Fletch, has an iconic Harold Faltermeyer soundtrack--depicts a laughably virtuous Beverly Hills PD that adheres strictly to the letter of the law. Murphy's fish-out-of-water Detroit cop, however, has a looser relationship with the proverbial Book, and a major theme of the film is him teaching the uptight LA locals to not just let things slide, but even completely manufacture evidence and lie to the brass to save their collective cop asses. it's cool because it's in service of getting the bad guy, right?
the thing is, while in the throes of the film we agree because damn, Murphy's Axel Foley is one charming motherfucker, and we delight as he slowly wins over--seduces--not just the semi-bumbling detective duo assigned to track him, but subsequently their damn boss as well. all these cops have potent interpersonal chemistry and it feels great to see likeable guy be liked, even if we'd consider him and all the others to be law enforcement scum were they real people. biggest shoutout goes to Judge Reinhold's incredibly adorable turn as Billy Rosewood, who shoots two (probably bad) humans dead in 15 minutes, i believe the highest body count in the film. maybe that's why he's my favorite--go Billy, ya lovable man-killing dork! 😘
enjoying Beverly Hills Cop made me wonder how you might construct a film that delivers similar narrative and character delights without the scaffolding on which they hang being so odiously objectionable. makes me a little uneasy how prone i am to engaging with this type of entertainment, what with all the poisonous messages embedded therein.
i am probably going to watch Murphy's previous cop flick, the Walter Hill-directed 48 Hrs., this year as well.