I’ve been of the opinion for a while that Americans are generally bad at satire. We’re far too sincere a people. We like to wear our hearts on our sleeves. Leave no message unsaid. And it’s something that’s only been exacerbated in a post-Trump world. I only mention this because American Fiction, the feature debut from filmmaker Cord Jefferson, which is based on the 2001 novel Erasure by Percival Everett, has been labeled as such. While it is a good comedy, it does not totally work as satire. Satire requires a level of exaggeration within its irony in order to get its point across, and while many of the situations in American Fiction are certainly funny, they are also sadly far too real.
The story follows Thelonious Ellison, lovingly referred to as Monk (Jeffrey Wright), a professor and author who unfortunately hasn’t had anything published in a long time. He is frustrated at how African-American literature is dominated by books that heavily revolve around trauma and further stereotypes that only serve to satisfy white liberals into thinking they have an insight into the Black experience. Upon a family tragedy and the need to put his mother, Agnes (Leslie Uggams), into a care facility due to her showing signs of Alzheimer’s, Monk goes against his principles and writes a book littered with the kind of stereotypes and tropes he was so vehemently against, and ends up finding unprecedented success.
The film is first and foremost quite funny. Jeffrey Wright has long proven himself to be a gifted comedic actor with a particularly effective delivery of dry one-liners and straight man dynamics. His talent really shines here as this guy who is fed up, and only finds himself digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole after being egged on by his agent, Arthur (John Ortiz). His reaction to the acclaim is hilarious. But much of the dialogue within these situations are not far from the reality that many Black and other POC creatives have often dealt with.
There is a fine line between telling the stories you want to tell, and telling the stories that are marketable, and when you bring racial demographics into the equation, it can become even more limiting. Struggle stories are such a go-to, not only because the desire for the American dream – and the failures thereof – is deeply rooted in this country’s ethos, but telling stories about people-of-color in which they deal with constant struggle and trauma is an easy market to sell to. But it only serves to limit the way these artists can operate and be seen. They have so much more to offer, yet the often white people who give the green light to these ventures fail to see beyond what they know works.
The film explores all this in Monk’s journey, but weirdly enough, there’s a whole other side to the story that hasn’t been heavily advertised. It also acts as a bit of a character study, touching on Monk’s life and his relationship to his mother and his siblings, Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross) and Cliff (Sterling K. Brown). Between a death in the family early on, the onset of Agnes’ Alzheimer’s, as well as the growing relationship between two other people in Monk’s life, Cliff reckoning with his openness about his sexuality, and Monk’s growing romance with a neighbor, Coraline (Erika Alexander), the film loses focus on things fast, to say the least. In trying to tackle so many characters and themes, it doesn’t fully satisfy any within its under two hour runtime.
It’s tough to make a satire about Black representation when you’re naturally going to invite comparisons to the likes of Hollywood Shuffle and Bamboozled, both of which are classics as far as I’m concerned. What makes American Fiction stand out among films like that is that it ultimately isn’t too concerned with “the machine,” as much as it is concerned in how the machine affects this one flawed guy and his relationship to his family. The stakes and scope are far more intimate. I just wish the film did a better job at balancing all these elements. Because you would have a scene between Monk and some prospective publisher that is really funny and biting, and then – as if you accidentally sat on the remote – you find yourself watching a family drama with various subplots that don’t really have room to breathe, certainly no room for jokes, and don’t really connect with the storyline about Monk’s book. Thankfully, the film as a whole is funny enough that I found it ultimately worthwhile, especially given Wright’s terrific performance. I like a lot of what Cord Jefferson is doing with the film, I just wished I loved it more.
American Fiction is now out in theaters.