American Fiction
MGM + AMAZONIt’s hard to buck the system. That lesson lies at the contrarian heart of American Fiction, which hasn’t only proven to be a surprise critical hit, but an underdog in the forthcoming Oscars race this year. Centering on frustrated author and professor Thelonius “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright, always good), the film opens with him being put on sabbatical from his day job and forced to do what he has been avoiding for years: finishing his latest book and reconnecting with his immediate family. To say the least, his attempts at doing both put him in entirely unexpected situations.
As a result, the story becomes two-fold. Part of the film focuses on the publication of My Pafoloy, a parody he writes in response to popular “ghetto literature” by the likes of Sintara Golden (Issa Rae). The problem is that no one knows he is the real author and treats his fake persona—escaped convict Stagg R. Leigh—as if he is legitimate. The other focuses on shake-ups regarding his mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams), sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown) and love interest Coraline (Erika Alexander), all of whom are unaware of his rising (and unwanted) star status.
The scenes showing Monk’s meteoric rise to a cause célèbre of the moment are as cringe-worthy as they are hilarious, providing the comedic meat that makes American Fiction remarkable. Every gatekeeper in the publishing industry bends to the will of “Mr. Leigh.” These are the same white people who shut the door on Monk mere months before because, as his agent Arthur (John Ortiz) tells him, he doesn’t write “black” enough. Now that the tables have turned, even his panicked impersonations of “Leigh” over the phone and in person have everyone fooled. “The dumber I behave, the richer I get,” he observes after a meeting with movie producer hotshot Wiley (Adam Brody).
Although mainly promoted as a satire and comedy, there is much more going on than Monk’s publishing fiasco. The film delves deeper into his personal life and family dynamics than expected, but it’s important to note that was always the point. Based on Percival Everett’s 2001 novel, Erasure, the story isn’t only about a black man questioning the media that represents his community, but depicting his own experience, which falls outside of what is deemed “sellable” by the white people at literary conferences, printing houses and, yes, even Hollywood.
These subplots of the film are regarded as the weaker half of the film, but they are the scenes that capture what is truly genuine about Monk’s life, as well as the conversations that are the most combative and real; a stark contrast to the dialogue he writes in his parody. His family is riddled with issues that are recognizable to all: health issues, love, infidelity, divorce, death, financial worries and emotional unavailability. It is when Monk is confronted by those close to him that there is a deeper understanding of who this man is. He obviously isn’t a “type” that is easy to pigeonhole in American storytelling. He is black man working in higher education who is struggling with his identity—mainly because of the expectations and limits and imposed on him for being “other,” but not “other” enough.
What is considered good representation? That is one of American Fiction’s most pressing questions, and it’s hotly debated during one of the most interesting scenes in the film when Monk and Sintara finally have a one-on-one conversation that unsettles and surprises both of them. Neither of them are fully right or fully wrong, and regardless of where they stand, they are both trying to navigate systems that don’t truly see them or grant them any favors.
However, it’s unlikely that these moments will be as memorable as the web of lies surrounding Monk and his literary hoax, which is where all the laughs are. It’s telling that every white person who appears onscreen is depicted as a clown, regardless of whether they’re aggressive or easy to please, but that type of comedy is overdue for white audiences. And surely enough, the film holds to the idea that despite how stupid they are, they always retain control. How much can Monk truly change that in a 2-hour runtime?
It’s fun to watch him try, though.