“American Fiction” explores the cost of Black achievement in a media landscape dominated by White people.
“American Fiction” is a subdued film with a sharp message that takes a humorous look at a serious topic: the Black images that are comfortable for primarily White decision-makers in the media, and the consequences of catering to that market. In addition to giving Jeffrey Wright a unique and appreciated leading part, the movie is writer-director Cord Jefferson’s masterful feature debut.
The main plot, which is based on Percival Everett’s book “Erasure,” has a familiar vibe to it and is essentially a joke that unintentionally takes on a life of its own and eventually goes out of hand. In this instance, it’s a book written out of anger by Monk (Wright), a professor of literature and writer who, until an unforeseen tragedy wakes him up, is virtually sleepwalking through life.
The introduction of Monk coincides with his handling of the college students who are easily agitated. This leads to a hesitant visit to his siblings (Tracee Ellis Ross and Sterling K. Brown) and mother (Leslie Uggams), who is in the early stages of dementia. In addition to examining unresolved issues and past family baggage, Monk also starts dating one of his mother’s neighbors, Erika Alexander. However, things could get complicated when he impulsively publishes a book that is full of the derogatory stereotypes of Black people, claiming that the author is an anonymous person who is allegedly on the run.
He is shocked and disappointed to learn that Monk’s agent, John Ortiz, has found enthusiastic purchasers for the funny book rather than the more somber work that Monk has been working on. He is informed, “White people think they want the truth, but they don’t.” All they desire is to feel free.
Even though Monk has the ability to revoke the agreement, his mother’s deteriorating health and the cost of the type of treatment she requires cast doubt on the matter. As with any deceit, the longer Monk tries to prolong the arrangement, the more complicated it becomes.
Wright effectively conveys Monk’s anguish, particularly when he hears positive reviews of the book and converses with another author, Issa Rae, whose writing exemplifies the “Black trauma porn” that Wright originally intended to mock. In this way, “American Fiction” addresses a long-standing issue for Black artists in the literary world: satisfying consumer demand while upholding one’s integrity.
With writing credits that include “The Good Place” and “Watchmen,” Jefferson adds a deft touch to this drama that lets the people and situations breathe. He also finds excellent moments for the supporting roles.
In the end, “American Fiction” poses concerns on the cost of Black achievement in an entertainment and media landscape dominated by White people. It does not, however, offer any simple solutions while keeping its satirical edge and eye.
