American Fiction is a Serious Comedy

 

 

 

American Fiction (2023)

Directed by Cord Jefferson

Orion, 117 minutes, R (language, sexual references, drug use, some violence)

★★★★ ½

 

American Fiction made money, but its box office was softer than it should have been. It won numerous awards at film festivals and was nominated for five Oscars, winning one (director Cord Jefferson for best adapted screenplay). Label it a black comedy in the traditional sense–humor derived from serious matters–but it is also a “black” film that delves into how stereotypes persist in American culture. It’s also a book within a book within two films. See it to understand to unravel that!

 

It is based on Percival Everett’s 2001 novel Erasure.  In all likelihood Everett poured himself into protagonist Dr. Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright). The Ellisons defy conventional views of black families. Monk is a novelist/literature professor in Los Angeles, his sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross) is a Massachusetts physician, and younger brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown) a plastic surgeon in Arizona. That’s three advanced degrees from an upper-middle-class black family whose aging mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams) still lives in the family home in Brookline, as well as a beachfront home in Scituate. If you’re keeping score this is lily-white Massachusetts; Brookline is just 0.12 percent black, Scituate 0.08 percent. The family must confront the fact that Agnes is suffering from Alzheimer’s. They plan to assemble at the beach to discuss future options.

 

The Ellisons are a rich-in-property-money-stretched and parallel the woes of some British gentry. The old properties need work, Lisa is divorced, Cliff has bills and is grappling with coming out as gay, and Monk’s books aren’t selling. That’s because Monk is grounded in classics and refuses to write anything that demeans African Americans. His agent Arthur (John Ortiz) delivers the bad news that his new novel has been rejected by major publishers. Imagine Monk’s shock when Sintara Golden (Issa Rae) scores bigtime with We Lives in Da’ Ghetto. His frustration-based response is to churn out My Pafology under the pseudonym Stagg R. Leigh. (Look up the legend of Stagolee if you don’t know it.) Monk’s intent is to be so trashy and outrageous that the public will see how African Americans are lampooned. Arthur reluctantly sends it out and to Monk’s horror, the big publishers love it and up the ante for an advance. The more outrageous Monk/Stagg gets–including changing the title to Fuck–the more the media salivates. Monk and Arthur must improvise why they can’t meet Stagg, but there’s even a movie producer (Adam Brody) ready to film it. Monk stands to make major coin but the price is his dignity.

 

Fuck sells so well that it’s up for a major book award. Poor Monk finds himself on a five-person committee–another member is Sintara–to sift between the ten contenders. He is relieved that Sintara hates the book, but their bonding is short-lived when he politely asks how her book is any different from the despicable Fuck. Nothing goes according to plan, including the ways in which Monk’s natural diffidence and introversion complicates an on/off new romance with Coraline (Erika Alexander), a lawyer renting a house in Scituate across the street from the Ellisons.

 

You name the trope and American Fiction toys with it: the cancel culture, whites crawling over each to “honor” black people and define their “authentic” experiences, the vulgarity of pop culture, occupations, flamboyant gayness, how a “black” film score should sound, the romantic comedy genre, dress, speech, and manners patterns….  All of this provides perfect comic setups, but is it too much of a good thing?

 

Jeffrey Wright is (as always) magnificent as Monk, a cold fish who’d like to swim in warm water but doesn’t know how. Alexander does a great job of treading the line between an independent woman and a coquette, Uggams convincingly blinks in and out of reality, and though she’s not on screen long, Ross is an acerbic delight. Although I worry it was too much, Brown is true to the adage that if you decide to go over the top, go way over.

 

Some audiences were disappointed by the film’s resolution and it’s an open question whether Jefferson (and Percival) inadvertently reify some of the negative stereotypes they hope to obliterate? I’m still mulling this, but I suggest that you go with any inconsistencies you find. American Fiction is often amusing, but it’s also a quiet think-about-it powerhouse.

 

Rob Weir