“American Fiction” Review: Family Drama with a Touch of Satire
American Fiction actualizes its own message at the cost of its biting themes.
Thelonious Ellison (Jeffery Wright), or Professor Monk to anyone below his self appointed throne, is as hopelessly stoic as the name implies. He is detached from his family, choosing instead to prioritize his art, AKA, his novels that never sell. Raised under his assumedly just as prickly father, Jefferson has forsaken humanity for the status of genius…or, at least an attempt at it. So prideful in his work, American Fiction begins with Monk receiving a “leave of absence” for sticking to his guns and totally owning a white student who questions the necessity of having the n-word written on the front board. “If I got over it, I think you can too.” While boomers in the seats next to me quite literally cheered, making me fear for the type of film I just entered, Monk’s impassioned screams show that this adherence to principle can be just as self-damaging as his intellect. Comical, efficient, immediately biting, and correctly positioning itself as neither a tear down on gen-z sensitivity or a shot at anyone above 50, American Fiction’s opening minutes are impressive, and its best.
Cord Jefferson’s directorial debut is surely impressive for its pace and comedy, but for a film that advertised itself for being “bold” in a time where “this message needs to be heard,” American Fiction is disappointingly safe in a number of areas that ultimately weaken its core message, if that even is the “core” by the film’s end.
After his termination, Monk is again humiliated at a comically small book presentation, where he encounters the bane of his existence: hollow art. He stumbles upon author Sintara Golden’s (much larger) showing, who he immediately notes as being a sell-out for profiting off of her black experience purposefully shaped to concede to the whims of the white market. There’s no need for a back blurb when “We’s Lives in Da Ghetto” is on the spine, and Monk fumes at the potential success he could have if he just sacrificed his attachment to authorial integrity.
Still taking place within the opening sequences, this encounter is one of the film’s funniest and shocking. As Sintara turns on a blaccent for a white crowd, we see close-ups of all the wrinkly listeners applauding themselves as much as they are Golden for doing the applauding. It’s hilarious, and the film has more than one scene capable of cracking up a crowd with its political satire. Yet, American Fiction only stumbles because it never lives up to what it seemingly promised to be, which according to the individual viewer, either actualizes the film’s message to great success, or only hampers the potential for a truly scathing critique.
This is because the satire that dominates the opening scenes, and what was sold in advertisements and trailers abound, is pushed to the film’s background almost immediately for the sake of the family drama that makes up the heart of this film, literally and figuratively. Eventually coming to dominate the narrative, the plot line following Monk’s reconciliation with his ever decreasing family and expanding number of relationships becomes the narratives’ focus, with the more interesting thematic work and satire being relegated to a means of Monk trying to afford his family's needs. While this does change the narrative’s trajectory from the most cliche option, which would show Monk jealous of Golden’s success and result in a simple quest for vanity stroking cash, it also made the film feel incredibly unbalanced in both tone and pace. Emotional beats made half my theater chuckle before they realized what they heard wasn’t supposed to be funny, the ending is forced, and while Monk and crew are certainly given greater emotional depth with the inclusion of this conflict, it distracts from what most audiences will expect coming in.
However, there is the argument to be made that this narrative imbalance is the point. For a film attacking the lack of realistic black stories in entertainment, what would a movie about a struggling black artist be if not the generator of its own complaints? American Fiction provides the very story Golden and Monk are desperate for, but at the cost of its own criticism. This is what makes the narrative trajectory the ultimate pitfall for the film, as despite its wonderfully acted cast of characters and witty script, the film feels like a half baked family drama or a depressingly defanged attempt at dissent because of its murky focus. Without the time necessary to establish relationships, (to which I’ll admit, the film’s writing and cast manage to still make these character’s charming) the family dynamic is not engaging enough to evolve the emotion beyond melodrama. At times, the film’s dialogue is hilarious, its visual gags are both subtle and clever, and the cinematography expresses genuine feeling. However, at others the directing never passes the comfortably stylish look of a tv daytime drama, the writing is as safe as it can be while still marketing itself as satire, and the emotion is dull.
There was a scene that had me excited for what was to come, that as you may have guessed by now was in the front half of the film. Monk sits at the writing chair in his childhood home, and as he writes the satirical piece this film wishes it was (or maybe it doesn’t? Again, that’s the problem), characters from his words come to life. In a comical display of at home Shakespeare, Monk’s written scene is literally played out with his own character’s speaking to him. In film, the scene is a part of his remarkable success “My Pafology,” and meta-textually, it makes for the most creative and daring portion of the movie. This was what I wanted to see: the creative risks, the attacks on current racial politics, and a critical examination of how black stories are represented today. Instead, we got a different black story, one with a lot more heart, and one that’s a lot more safe, than I ever expected.
As a white man writing this piece, it doesn’t matter what story I wanted to see from American Fiction, and in this way, my biggest complaint is not mine to raise. Once again, the film's imbalance comes from the insertion of a black story that finally isn’t about the exploitation of an entire race, which is the film actualizing its own message. Meaning, while American Fiction was not what I was expecting, maybe it wasn’t meant for me.