American Fiction

“American Fiction’s small inclusion-related missteps undermine its own thesis.”

Title: American Fiction (2023)
Director: Cord Jefferson 👨🏽🇺🇸
Writers: Cord Jefferson 👨🏽🇺🇸 based on a novel by Percival Everett 👨🏾🇺🇸

Reviewed by Li 👩🏻🇺🇸

Technical: 4/5

Cord Jefferson’s ambitious directorial debut, American Fiction (based on the novel Erasure by Percival Everett), accurately captures the philosophical questions that arise when Black writers are forced to contort themselves in an industry that isn’t built for them. At first, highbrow, academic writer Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright) considers himself above pandering to white people to succeed, and derides the “trash” he sees making The New York Times bestseller rounds. But when his mom’s dementia worsens and his university puts him on a leave of absence for arguing with a student, he’s put in a difficult position of needing to find a lot of money, and fast.

As an exercise in catharsis, Monk dashes out what he considers a crap novel that leans into every single Black stereotype he can think of, full of gang violence and absent Black fathers. But the (very white) literary world takes it at face value and cuts an enormous check to publish the book. What follows is an interesting internal debate about where Monk should draw the line between “giving the market what it wants,” as fellow writer Sintara Golden (Issa Rae) calls it, and where Monk’s conscience will prevent him from contributing to harmful Black stereotypes with his work.

These philosophical themes have come up before in other satires, and executed with more precision, to boot. The narrative structure in American Fiction purposefully splinters in the final act, and it doesn’t work that well, disparate parts bumping up against each other in a momentum-halting finale. In contrast, Get Out’s (2017) commentary smoothly dovetails into the entire film’s metaphor about white people who covet Black bodies, while Sorry to Bother You (2018) neatly uses LaKeith Stanfield’s adoption of a “white voice” (dubbed by David Cross) to highlight just how conscious this pandering to white people in power can be. While American Fiction does offer a unique window into the literary world, it chooses to explain everything out in the open. A subtler approach might have given the film more depth.

Gender: 3.5/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? YES

Women have important supporting roles. Audiences meet Monk’s vivacious sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), his mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams), the family’s longtime housekeeper Lorraine (Myra Lucretia Taylor), Monk’s successful colleague Sintara (Rae), and new girlfriend Coraline (Erika Alexander). Unfortunately, they’re all two-dimensional and live—or die, in one abrupt case—to serve Monk’s narrative, and share only limited interactions with one another.

Race: 4.75/5

American Fiction excoriates systemic anti-Blackness in the literary world. Unfortunately, its nuance doesn’t extend to all people of color. On the one hand, Monk’s Puerto Rican agent Arthur (played by Puerto Rican actor John Ortiz) is enjoyably brash and funny, avoiding clichés about Latino men. But the only Asian character to appear (Chhoyang Cheshatsang), credited as “Wiley’s Assistant,” stumbles directly into the stereotype of an awkward, nerdy Asian secretary or personal assistant (PA). In the character’s one scene, he caters to a white director who treats him with disrespect, wiping his wet hands on the PA’s shirt before shooing him away. The Asian character willingly obliges and scuttles off screen. When a film like American Fiction is so focused on disentangling the underlying racism of everyday life, it undermines its own authority by slipping into easy-to-avoid tropes such as this.

Deduction for LGBTQ: -0.25

Similarly, Jefferson’s portrayals of gay men feel unnatural. Monk’s brother Clifford (Sterling K. Brown) is an adult who’s newly out of the closet, and while he does receive some character development about how he wishes their father knew about his sexuality before dying, Clifford is still shown stereotypically—partying, snorting lines of coke, and hanging out with boy toys in Speedos. The depictions aren’t meant to slander the character, and indeed, Clifford’s younger friends wind up making nice with his mom, who earlier in the film rattles off a homophobic line about how she knew Clifford wasn’t gay. But overall, these scenes feel crudely drawn.

In a separate moment, John Bosco (played by out actor Michael Cyril Creighton) is an effeminate white employee at a publishing house whose attempt to “talk Black” drew plenty of laughter from my theater audience. While the racial commentary is sound—there’s nothing wrong with punching up at white people who have the power to make or break a Black writer’s career—the power dynamic shifts when it comes to laughing at a man because he “sounds gay.” As a result, the humor in this particular scene lands uncomfortably.

Mediaversity Grade: B 4.00/5

Ambitious works should always be encouraged, with extra leeway given to first-time directors looking to make a statement. To that end, while American Fiction doesn’t always land its jokes, and small inclusion-related missteps undermine its own thesis, the film remains a triumph for Jefferson’s first foray into movie direction.

Like American Fiction? Try these other films starring writers.

Grade: BLiDecember 16, 2023