American Fiction
Cord Jefferson sinks his teeth into the relationship between race and art in this brilliant satiric debut.
Erika Alexander and Jeffrey Wright stroll through American Fiction.
Thelonius “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright) is tired of being pigeonholed by the literary community. An academic by trade, Monk’s passion is adapting myths to modern times. But his work is always found in “African American Literature”, even though it has nothing to do with race.
Worse, interest in his work is waning. His agent (John Ortiz) tells him publishers want something more “real” from him. Monk knows that’s code for “make your work Blacker”, but he hates what that means to a modern audience. All the successful works about Black people seem to be trauma porn or hood stories tailored to white audiences who want to feel woke for consuming them. It’s not Monk’s experience, and it feels even more exploitative to attempt it. He rails against writers like Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), who use outrageous stereotypes to create bestsellers.
In a fit of pique, Monk pens the most stereotypical scene he can think of, filled with awful clichés and misspellings to make it seem “real”. He sends it out as a joke. But the interest generated in Monk’s sarcastic response to American literature’s ideas about the “Black experience” is anything but a joke. The piece starts a bidding war, with publishing executives falling over themselves to secure the next “authentic BIPOC voice” in literature.
Monk’s worst impulses might just lead to his most successful work. It’s a fact that infuriates him, but he needs the money. Monk’s mother isn’t well and it’s becoming apparent that he and his siblings will soon need to find a care facility for her. Monk’s going to need an influx of cash and fast.
Is it selling out if you’re in on the joke?
Smart, biting, and incredibly well-performed, American Fiction is one of the best films of the year. An impressive directorial debut from Cord Jefferson (who also co-wrote the script), the film is a layered look at race in American pop culture, family dynamics, intellectual snobbery, and what it means to be a successful artist. It seems like a lot to cover, but like Monk, Jefferson’s work is dense with metaphors.
American Fiction is a film that rewards audiences for paying attention. There are clever details tucked in every frame and jokes fly by in off-the-cuff references. Even Monk’s chosen penname for his facetious biography, Stag R. Lee, is a reference to a folk song about a murderous pimp. White people talk over Black colleagues, all while emphasizing the importance of “making space for BIPOC voices”. A director wants to adapt Monk’s book because it’s “real”. Monk himself must assume the persona of Stag R. Lee though he’s clearly a reserved academic. Jefferson skirts the line between satire and farce beautifully, making a film that is both thoughtful and hilarious.
The film also believes in its own thesis, breaking away from the “Black experience” typically shown on film to give us a look at the life of Black academics. Monk and Golden both come from research backgrounds and though they have very different views on crafting books that will sell versus books that are highbrow, it’s clear the writers have faced many of the same obstacles in their careers. There’s also a delicate class play within American Fiction as Monk must not only look at the future for his mother, but for the family’s maid who has been serving them for decades. Is it his job to keep her employed? Monk would say she’s family, but what does that mean when you’re no longer able to pay her?
Jefferson has a lot to say about how American culture manages Black voices, he doesn’t forget the humanity of his characters. Monk and the rest of the Ellisons have their own drama and issues that they must deal with. Monk has always been a caustic academic and used that to keep himself at arm’s length from his family and friends. Despite all the barriers he puts up, he loves his family. When he’s thrown into the “head of the family” role, Monk must reckon with his feelings about his late father and how he can better support his family.
Though Jefferson’s writing and direction give the film a strong foundation, it’s Wright’s performance that makes the film. His Monk is a grumbling academic with all the pretensions of a Niles Crane. He’s deeply offended that slavery, crime, and Civil Rights seem to be the only subjects open to him as a Black writer. But at the same time, his persnickety attitude gives him an air of superiority that keeps him from making meaningful connections in his life. It’s hard to connect with someone on a date when you’re telling them their taste in books is intellectually lazy. And yet, Wright never lets you fully dismiss Monk as unfeeling. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, as he tries to connect with those around him. It’s a subtle, beautiful performance and one that’s easy to miss while you laugh at the increasingly absurd circumstances around him.
Supporting Wright is an excellent Sterling K. Brown, as Monk’s brother Clifford. Recently divorced and out of the closet, Clifford is going through a second adolescence as he discovers himself. And while his behavior is outlandish at times, it’s clear that it comes from a lifetime of repression. The Ellisons might have valued intellectualism, but that didn’t mean they were accepting of all things. Brown makes Clifford’s bravado loud and fragile, it’s easy to see how much the opinions of his family matter to him, even as he’s acting out. There’s a surprising depth to the showy performance, which makes the film as a whole richer.
American Fiction is a clever satire that has a lot of bold opinions. But more importantly, it’s a great film with some excellent performances. Make sure you catch this movie with friends because there will be plenty to discuss after.
Verdict: One of the best satires in recent memory, American Fiction is well worth a trip to the theater.
American Fiction is rated R and available in theaters December 22.
