Gregory McDonald, the novelist whose work was the basis for Fletch, died this past Sunday after a long battle with cancer.
Much overlooked as one of the great comic masterpieces of 20th Century cinema, Fletch tells the story of an investigative reporter’s efforts to bring to light a drug scandal that involves the Los Angeles Police Department. Irwin M. Fletcher (played by Chevy Chase) does battle with deadbeat junkies, corrupt commissioners, impatient editors, money-grubbing attorneys, overeager internists and, of course–the Underhills–in an effort to uncover the truth. Rest in peace, Gregory McDonald.
And hats off to Marge, your wife.
RIP to the author of a masterpiece. I’m still looking to borrow a towel because my car just hit a water buffalo.
Fletch was a great movie, surely it’s time for a new one…or a new National Lampoon? Bring on the Chevy Chase comeback!
How loser-y is it of me to ask whether it’s worth reading the novel? I may have to give this one a try (again) after all.
sorry and RIP…just hope the funeral was charged to the Underwood’s account!
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