There are an awful lot of thankless jobs in Hollywood. The vast majority of movie watchers understand (and hopefully appreciate!) that the movie they love is made by more than the very pretty actors who appear on-screen. There are far more people involved than simply the very overworked director, and the utterly ignored screenwriter. 

To me, one of the more fascinating heads of the cinematic hydra is the marketing department. In an extremely brief window of time, these folks need to explain what the general premise of the movie is, what the emotional tone of the movie is, and why you should see it as quickly as humanly possible. Sometimes that’s easy. The marketing of a new Batman movie isn’t much more than, “Hey, look! It’s Batman!” The flip side of that would be a film like Southland Tales or Mother! where the marketing department uses phrases like “visionary filmmaker” or “an assault on the senses” to promise you that the weird shit you paid for will indeed feature weird shit. 

But sometimes, a filmmaker makes a movie that’s complicated. A complicated movie is kryptonite to marketing people, and they’ll often seize on the most obvious plot point. I get that, but by following that impulse, they promise a movie that doesn’t entirely exist. Please allow me to demonstrate as we talk a little about the very good American Fiction. 

Before you read any further, please watch the trailer.

Thanks! Now that you’re back, that trailer promises a scabrous comedy about race in America, dopey liberal white people, and surface readings of Black art. The thing is, American Fiction is kind of about that, but it’s often about that only on the margins. 

We’re introduced to Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright). Monk is a writer, a damn good one. While he’s been published a few times, the sales of his books have been anemic. So much so that every publisher has rejected his latest book. His job as a college professor pays the bills, but Monk’s ambition burns for more. 

Monk’s ambition erupts when he sees an interview with Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), a middle class Black author enjoying a moment of massive success. Her book examines the lives of Black women in the inner city, and as far as Monk can see, she’s willing to sell out the experiences of people who are nothing like her. To Monk, it’s nothing more than poverty porn.

In a (presumably very long) moment of rage, Monk writes his own book. First he titles it, “My Pafology.” Later, he changes the title to…um…something punchier! He leans real, real hard into every possible stereotype of “the Black experience” as a way to call out Sintara, her publisher, readers, and everyone else. The bad news is that his book is a gigantic success.

While Monk grapples with the escalating insanity of his newest book, life drops more onto his plate. He has to handle an unexpected death in the family. His mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams), who loves to remind him he’s getting fat, is in the beginning stages of dementia. His brother Clifford (Sterling K. Brown), with whom Monk has always had a strained relationship, is going through some serious life changes. Then there’s his new neighbor Coraline. She and Monk have their eyes on each other, and the only problem is that Monk worries she’ll discover his literary secret and that she’ll learn he’s truly as bad as he thinks he is.

American Fiction is Cord Jefferson’s feature debut, and a glance at his previous work shows us why he was interested. He’s been a writer on smart TV shows like Watchmen and The Good Place, and that laser focus on character has served him well here. While leisurely, his pacing is never sluggish, and he gives us necessary time to hang out with Monk. This is a character-driven piece rather than a plot-driven film. The end result is something more thoughtful, complex, and occasionally flawed. The satirical elements promise a massive confrontation between Monk and Sintara. That doesn’t happen (Perhaps it never needed to?), and it causes the tension to deflate a bit.

Jefferson’s screenplay is an adaptation of Percival Everett’s novel “Erasure.” Never having read it, I can’t say how faithful the adaptation is. Jefferson seems far more interested in the character aspects of Monk than he is the satire. To be sure, there’s a good bit of slashing humor directed toward shallow liberals. But things feel more engaged when Monk navigates his prickly family dynamics or attempts to not self-sabotage his new romance. As a result, this is more of a family dramedy than a social satire, and I’m very okay with that.

This is the kind of film that actors love, where they’re given the chance to dig into meaty roles. I liked Tracee Ellis Ross’ brief appearance as Monk’s sister Lisa. She’s just as sharp and sarcastic as her brother, yet Lisa is warmer, less reserved. Sterling K. Brown also doesn’t get an enormous amount of screen time, but he makes the most of his role. His Clifford is angry, chaotic, frustrated as he tries to learn what his new life looks like. Jeffrey Wright carries the entire film, and his performance is more proof that he’s one of the best actors alive. His uncompromising focus on character means that we see Monk’s flaws and see him as a fully three-dimensional character. He’s snide, compassionate, petty, decent, tone-deaf and intelligent. Monk isn’t a bad person, though he is tough to like at times. Wright does strong and natural work showing different sides to this man, and putting them all together to make him feel like a real person.

A smart dramedy about a prickly Black intellectual and his upper-middle class family is apparently difficult to sell from a marketing perspective. You may have watched the trailer I linked to several thousand words ago, and you can be forgiven for a degree of disappointment that American Fiction isn’t a satire on par with Hollywood Shuffle or Fear of a Black Hat. That’s not what it truly is. Ignore the marketing angle and don’t miss this special film.

Tim Brennan
Tim has been alarmingly enthusiastic about movies ever since childhood. He grew up in Boulder and, foolishly, left Colorado to study Communications in Washington State. Making matters worse, he moved to Connecticut after meeting his too-good-for-him wife. Drawn by the Rockies and a mild climate, he triumphantly returned and settled down back in Boulder County. He's written numerous screenplays, loves hiking, and embarrassed himself in front of Samuel L. Jackson. True story.  
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