“American Fiction” Review: An Exemplary Exploration of Ironies in Black Success

Cord Jefferson makes his directorial debut with American Fiction, a film about a disillusioned Black author, Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, who is frustrated by the ways the publishing world uplifts stereotypes in Black literature over more substantive narratives. After jokingly writing a novel embodying the very stereotypes he aims to dismantle, a type of novel he and his peers satirically deem “Black books,” he finds himself thrust onto a contradictory journey when the novel is picked up by publishers and gains widespread acclaim. Adapted from Percival Everett’s 2001 novel Erasure, the film makes poignant commentaries on the commercialization of Blackness and white fragility.

The core concept of the film is compelling in itself as it tells a poignant irony. Titled My Pafology, then retitled Fuck, and released under the pseudonym Stagg R. Leigh, Monk’s “Black book” follows a melodramatic tale of gang violence, drugs, and deadbeat dads in the Black community. Despite writing numerous books that offer nuanced perspectives on the Black experience, Fuck is the book that brings Monk the most success. It’s a harrowing paradox that highlights the tendency of white intellectuals to romanticize Black stereotypes and trauma, often presented as “deep,” in the name of progressiveness. The paradox also reflects the ongoing struggle for Black people to exist outside of demeaning clichés. As the film progresses, this irony keeps the narrative energized as Monk’s situation grows increasingly dichotomous and allows for a natural comedic layer that invites the audience to laugh through the pain.

As one of the few voices of reason in the film, Monk is a likable leading character who makes it easy for audiences to see themselves in. Vacillating between compassionate and harsh approaches to his conundrums, Monk has a multifaceted personality that accomplishes this relatability, and actor Jeffrey Wright captures his delicate nuance seamlessly. An ensemble of characters, including Monk’s family members, his girlfriend Coraline, and his agent Arthur, weave in and out of the story with purpose, which their actors adequately provide (Sterling K. Brown stands out amongst them).

Just as the characters meander, the narrative does, as well, as it shifts between Monk’s professional and personal lives. Monk’s sister dies, Fuck is released, Monk’s mother’s health declines, a movie deal for Fuck is brought to Monk, Monk’s brother estranges himself from their family, Fuck becomes a #1 bestseller, and so on. The pendulating structure of the film gets weary towards the end as Monk’s two arcs rarely intersect. However, it does create an engaging conversation with the film’s underlying message. As Monk advocates for nuanced Black experiences in the publishing industry, his own nuanced story is presented to the audience in depth. Somewhat poetically, the film acts as a love letter to Monk, real-life Black creatives, and Black viewers who are struggling to find proper representation in publishing.

While the concept in American Fiction thrives, it falters where it’s unspecific. The narrative asserts that the romanticization of Black stereotypes and trauma is attributed to white readers as a whole, overlooking the diversity of perspectives amongst white readers and assuming a collective stance. Particularly, conservative and racist white individuals are unlikely to engage with narratives centering Black characters, notably ones featuring Black stereotypes that they’d consider “less than.” It is liberal and intellectual white people who actually take interest in Black stories and ultimately limit what they should look like. Their intentions are well-meaning in some aspects, but their discomfort and lack of true understanding prevents a fuller engagement with the Black experience. In acknowledging this distinction, American Fiction could have pinpointed the deeper limitations in progressive spaces given how white progressives misunderstand Black representation.

At the film’s culmination, Monk thinks of a way to remedy the impact of Fuck and artfully communicate the original purpose of the book. However, fatigued and limited in power, he ultimately compromises on the direction of the remedy, leaving the essence of Fuck with more power than he intended. This conclusion affords the narrative an authentically somber resolution, while still imparting a sense of purpose to Monk’s journey, successfully leading the film to a home run.

In an era where diversity and inclusion is superficially prioritized by industries, American Fiction comes at a crucial time. Its fundamental message is straightforward and may come across as familiar to some, but its execution is captivating and offers thought-provoking starting points for discussion. Share your takeaways in the comments below.


Posted

in

by

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *