‘American Fiction’ (2023)

“I don’t really believe in race.” These are the words of protagonist Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright), a curmudgeonly black author whose work hasn’t made large waves, and is, as he states ardently, not about being black. 

Seconds later, in one of the film’s numerous visual gags, the taxi he’s hailing ignores him in favor of a white man. This early moment is a better handling of the film’s themes than the actual opening is, which feels like a flubbed take on the already overplayed “triggered college student.” The opening set the pattern for the movie, which at times favors tropes at the cost of complexity. 

“American Fiction” (2023) contends with the subjects of black representation and misrepresentation. It’s an adaptation of Percival Everett’s 2001 novel, “Erasure,” and is Cord Jefferson’s directorial debut. This is the first adaptation of one of Everett’s works, who is known for his erudite explorations of race through absurdity. 

In the film, Wright’s bookish and uptight performance of Monk allows those around him: his sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), brother Clifford (Sterling K. Brown), and literary agent Arthur (John Ortiz) to play off his deadpan act to comedic success. Brown’s bombastic energy often steals the scene from Wright. Monk’s other main relationship is with his mother (Leslie Uggams), whose progressing Alzheimer’s produces many disturbing moments. 

With his own work overshadowed by what he sees as reductive and pandering to  black narratives, Monk writes an offensive “black” novel intended as a middle finger to the entertainment industry. He writes the novel “My Pafology” under a pseudonym because he is afraid to attach his own name and artistic integrity to it. Much to his chagrin it’s a riot success. 

Comedy ensues when Monk is forced to play the book’s author, Stagg R. Leigh, an ex-con and fugitive from the law; Wright’s performance of Monk as Leigh is hilariously phony. He visibly attempts to slouch his shoulders, affects a deeper voice, and cusses half-heartedly. 

In spite, or perhaps because, of how stereotypical Leigh is, the white people around him are convinced. They can’t get enough of Leigh’s novel and its author; the white publishers and director adapting the novel are overwhelmed by how “raw” and “important” — but not well-written — it is. “American Fiction”  mocks the ubiquitous language of “inclusion,” as the quality, or what is considered representation, is not considered. 

Within Monk’s struggle with selling out, “American Fiction” addresses the trope of black suffering as a product to consume, deliberately invoking films like “Precious” and “12 Years a Slave”, denouncing them as spectacles of anguish. Black pain saturates American fiction (and I don’t mean the movie), as a reflection of its saturation of our real world. Trying not to reproduce the tethering of black representation to suffering requires deft handling and nuance. 

 For Monk, becoming successful means becoming a “Black Author.” But isn’t he already a black author? The film implies that inclusion and success can mean being pigeonholed into certain topics, as any black writer or artist who wants to express black experiences in their work has likely struggled with. Is it pandering, or even worse, is it “Trauma Porn?” 

If you too have read “Erasure,” you might be surprised as I was by Cord Jefferson’s choices in modifying the story for film. “Erasure” is a difficult novel at times, and “American Fiction” packages the narrative into a linear fashion more standard to film. The film emphasizes Monk’s family and romantic relationships. Putting it uncharitably, the film sands off the novel’s more absurd elements, which causes Monk’s lack of interiority. The novel is peppered with strange glimpses into his mind, including imaginary dialogues between historical literary and artistic figures like James Joyce and Wassily Kandinsky.

The film is almost two hours long but still feels underdeveloped. It attempts both satirical comedy and family drama, and the switch in tone between sections isn’t spotlessly pulled off. At worst, it felt like I was watching two movies that had been spliced together. A thread of “showing who you really are” is made to link the two plots, but the problem is that I don’t know who Monk is. Wright tries valiantly to act as the core of this balancing act, but only flashes of characterization deepen the otherwise flat Monk. 

Characters in the film state that audiences are bored by nuance, but I was disappointed that “American Fiction” didn’t trust us enough to try. Despite a brief intramural discussion on what it means to represent “the culture” or what “the culture” is, “American Fiction” doesn’t do enough to truly examine the confluence of race and class. Monk’s father was a doctor, his family has a black live-in maid, and he’s an Ivy League graduate (the type of black crowd that has their own stereotypes about poor black people). Like Monk, this film seems resentful at being lumped in with “regressive” black media. We don’t get to see this belief being adequately refuted as an unfair misrepresentation. In the final moments of the film, Monk nods to a black extra in a Huck Finn-like getup, again pointing to the use of plantation aesthetics… and then what? 

All in all, the film is enjoyable. I laughed plenty of times and was thrilled by how side characters came to life in the hands of a skilled cast. But the film wants to be seen as challenging, without actually challenging its audiences.