American Fiction Review
7.5/10
As one of the whitest people in history, I am the perfect person to review American Fiction. Satire is an elusive art in the modern age when absurdity and banality walk hand in hand into oblivion. How can a world that has become a constant parody of itself possibly be satirized? There have been a few occasional gems in the past decade. Armando Iannucci’s film The Death of Stalin is one of the best examples. There was also Mike Judge’s delightful Beavis and Butthead do the Universe. Both of those films excelled at poking fun at their targets by going into the past. I did not love Barbie as much as others did, but it is still another example of a film that takes chances with a clever and subversive comedic narrative.
Comedy in general is becoming rarer to see in theaters. Mostly because it is far more difficult to market it overseas. What is funny in the United States often does not translate elsewhere. The same applies with comedy in other countries not working as well in the U.S. Many studios no longer want to invest in comedies that are seen as being quintessentially American since they are far more difficult to market elsewhere. American Fiction could only come from the U.S. It has a unique identity that was refreshing to see.
The always fantastic Jeffrey Wright plays Thelonious Ellison aka Monk, a frustrated writer and professor struggling to achieve the success he craves. Monk is an intellectual and is tired of seeing his work ignored because he doesn’t adhere to the black stereotypes that the establishment has profited from for decades. I am well aware that this is a complicated and nuanced issue that I cannot comprehend fully. It would be foolish and ignorant of me to pretend I understand what Monk is dealing with.
The film opens with Monk clashing with a white student in class over race issues. This student perfectly embodies the white knight problem I often see, where people are offended on behalf of others. The intent is well meaning, but often comes across as patronizing. Monk’s response is completely justified, though he is still placed on temporary leave by the university he works at due to his attitude being interpreted as brash. He is advised to attend a literary seminar and spend time with his family; an idea that Monk begrudgingly accepts.
The seminar is where Monk gets confronted by the grim reality of his lack of success. His panel is poorly attended thanks to most people choosing to see the famous author Sintara Golden (Issa Rae) promote her new book We's Lives in Da Ghetto. The look on Monk’s face as he watches Sintara read from the novel is simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious. To Monk, her work is the personification of all the black stereotypes he has tried to transcend for his entire career. All the years of resentment lights a powder keg inside Monk’s mind in this moment. Not long after, he decides to write a fake novel called My Pafology under the pseudonym Stagg R. Leigh, filled with as many stereotypes as possible. He submits this new book to publishers in contempt, much to the dismay of his agent, Arthur (Jon Ortiz.)
Monk is baffled when he gets a ridiculously high offer to publish the fake book and he must maintain the ultra-tough thug persona of Stagg R. Leigh to sustain the illusion that this is a real person. What is surprising about the film is how often it pokes fun at the condescending tendency for well-meaning white progressives to fetishize black societal trauma. The funniest and sharpest moments of the film are when it skewers the kinds of people who probably think a race or gender flipped character in a movie is the pinnacle of diversity.
We only see brief glimpses of Monk’s book, if anything I would have loved to see more. One of the best scenes in the film involves a section from the book acted out in reality as he writes it, complete with a cameo by the great Keith David. The book is overflowing with every cliché he can think of, from deadbeat dads, drugs, and gang violence. Though these have become tropes to many people, they are still rooted in tragic systemic issues that are far too complicated for me to claim I know what I’m talking about. These very real problems have become commercialized by a corporate culture that will do anything it takes to squeeze profit from pain.
Monk’s outrage at this commodification of black suffering is what makes this film such a pointed critique. Where it stumbles for me is the balance of satire and family drama. He spends time with his mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams), his sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), and brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown.) The pacing slows down substantially here to focus on his bond with his mother and her slow descent into Alzheimer’s disease. Their moments together are sincere and tragic, but I felt that the satirical gems sometimes get pushed to the background more than they should have been.
Cliff recently came out as gay after being married to a woman for many years. He has been indulging in this new lifestyle with copious amounts of sex and drugs. Monk may not be entirely comfortable with his brother’s new hedonistic ways, yet they still have a deep understanding and connection despite their differences and time spent apart. Sterling K. Brown is excellent as usual as Cliff. The character could easily fall into caricature territory; thankfully, that never happens, thanks to a combination of his excellent performance and the nuanced writing/direction by Cord Jefferson. Despite Cliff living an indulgent lifestyle, at least he is being his true self, while Monk is preoccupied with farce.
The moments that focus on Monk’s newfound success and the bizarre escalation of the book’s success are fantastic and subversive in a way we rarely get anymore. The family dynamics are all strong and compelling in their own ways and I can tell they were put in to highlight the substantial life Monk has while he is concocting his fantasy. However, I wish the balance of these two worlds was more fine-tuned. I was so invested in the outlandish satire that the many times it cuts back to Monk’s family broke the spell the film had conjured during the escalating absurdity. There is also a romance sub-plot where Monk falls for a local girl, Coraline, (Erika Alexander), who lives near his mother. Their scenes together are sweet, and Alexander brings a lot of personality and charm to the role, but her character did not feel as essential to the story compared to the others.
Despite the occasional misstep, American Fiction is an enjoyable satire and an impressive directorial debut for Cord Jefferson. Hopefully, it is a sign that audiences are more receptive to smart comedies than studios think.
