Facts and Fiction: The American Fiction Review

The world we live in runs on systems. Systems that set expectations based on stereotypes and assumptions. Some tend to have fortune on their side when navigating through these systems, while others are dealt the worst hand possible. The people within those systems are not the system itself, but they contribute to its function. So what would happen if you saw the programming right in front of you and decided to mess with its code? Cord Jefferson’s American Fiction dares to ask that question and attempts to seek an answer. 

 Based on the 2001 novel, Erasure by Percival Everett, American Fiction chronicles the life of fictional author, Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright) after he loses his job as a professor. Disappointed by his lack of book sales, he goes back home to Boston to speak at a conference. The room is small and dimly lit with very little turnout. Discouraged, he asks where everyone is and is told that just down the hall, Sintara Golden (Issa Rae)  is speaking about her new bestseller, We’s Lives In Da Ghettos. Intoxicated and angry at the fact that this is considered a “Black” novel, he decides to write his own novel on “Black” life called My Pafology under the pseudonym Stagg R. Leigh. To his surprise, the book is a hit. The success forces him to lead a double life in order to keep up the act. What the marketing for this movie doesn’t tell you is that that’s only half of the story. Monk’s life is complicated and filled with people who love him even though he struggles to find love for himself. They weave themselves through the intricate day-to-day issues, in a staggering portrayal of African American life (or just life) on camera. 

 I applaud the film for not just being a comedy, but instead showing all of the ups and downs of simply existing, something the director said he wanted to show. Sometimes two people share a glance and rely on each other to convey the emotion of the scene. Arguments are allowed to play out in a realistic manner. People reveal truths about themselves and instead of having a big Hollywood monologue, they sit and ponder what their life meant up until this point. This isn’t to say that the film isn’t funny and filled to the brim with longing glances. There are so many gut-bustingly hilarious lines that the viewer would probably benefit from rewatches to ensure they heard a character right. But where the film really shines is in the melancholy of existing in a world that wants to put you in a box. Monk can’t tell his family and friends about the book he’s written, the book the world can’t seem to put down. He doesn’t get time to revel in its success, nor does he want to. All of this is brilliantly shown off through Jeffrey Wright’s acting. Wright, who for too long has been relegated to incredibly acted side characters in popular movies and television shows, finally has a large, theatrical film with meat on its bones and I sincerely hope that this is where his career finally starts to take off. Switching between the absurdity of pretending to be Stagg R. Leigh to the media and his publisher and the moments where he has to be Monk, Wright is practically teaching a masterclass in acting. When he has to play the scene big, he’s larger than life and for the more subdued character actor-y scenes he tells so much without saying anything at all. 

 But while Wright dominates the screen in his dual roles, the rest of the cast are exciting and lively, even if some of them only occupy the screen for a scene or two. When Monk is writing My Pafology, the scene plays out like two thespians and a director working in the early stages of a theater play. Keith David, who plays the father in My Pafology scoops up his scene like a ground ball in the World Series. Okieriete Onadowan, the son in My Pafology, comes in like a scud missile, occasionally breaking character to ask Monk “did I get that right?” Outrageous as it is comedic, they understand their roles and leave you wanting more. Tracee Ellis Ross plays Monk’s sister who still feels an affinity for him even though they aren’t as close as they used to be. She’s just as fine as she is talented, in a pivotal bit role. The real standout here is Sterling K. Brown, who plays Monk’s brother. He comes out of nowhere with so much empathy and a smile that lights up the screen. His smile tells one story but the pain behind his eyes gives his character so much dimension. He’s charismatic, but also hurt. His family doesn’t truly know who he is, his divorce tells another story, and when he’s finally able to step out into himself, his mother doesn’t even recognize his truth. Finally, Issa Rae comes to shine as Sintara Golden. If you’re familiar with her work in Insecure or even The Photograph, you know that she’s a talented actress who can play ball. Sinatra challenges Monk to think about the system at play. She wrote her book because it’s what the world wants to see from “Black” fiction. It’s not her life, but in order to succeed it’s what she realized she might have to do. 

 American Fiction is a challenging film, but it’s supposed to be. It was meant to challenge your idea of what is “Black.” The experiences that Black people go through and what sells. People don’t flock to the stories of Black life in the United States because unless it’s trauma porn, no one cares. The film takes its time to showcase these things, and show you that we deal with life the same way as anyone else. We have emotions, we love the same, and we feel the same way, most of the time. But it takes a microscope to the people who have been appointed as the “elite” and questions: why do you see Black people this way? Why do we have to be gangbangers, athletes, prostitutes, drug dealers and pimps? Why do you feel so comfortable reading or watching stories about that and not take aim at it as inauthentic to the experience of every Black person? The comedic aspects ease the audience into those questions, but hopefully make them question themselves and their insecurities. It’s a film that normalizes the Black experience on film and points its finger at your expectation of Black media. 

Cord Jefferson, I salute you for your valiant work here and can’t wait to see what you do next. 

American Fiction opens nationwide on December 22, 2023