Author Thelonious "Monk" Ellison has published several books, but his newest effort has failed to find a publisher because its themes aren't "black enough." And the way he sees it, all the latest critically praised books from black authors have been pandering nonsense. In a burst of reactionary anger, he writes the most outlandish, most cliche "black book" he can force down his own gag reflex long enough to type... and is thoroughly dismayed to discover he has a massive bestseller on his hands.
This isn't that purest of Oscar tropes, the "movie about making movies," but it IS a movie about the creative process. (Though in the story, a movie executive does come about to secure the film rights.) Because this movie takes such a dim view of the public's collective tastes, it feels nothing like Oscar's often self-congratulatory nominees. It's so off-brand, in fact, that you could well wonder how it got Oscar attention in the first place... until you consider the delightful "feedback loop" at play here.
American Fiction is based on a novel by Percival Everett, and that book's original title cuts much more to the heart of the major theme here: Erasure. The character of Monk (many times throughout the movie) voices frustration that huge swaths of the black experience are never spotlighted in popular fiction; there's only one thing the audience wants to read. And as the movie also makes abundantly clear, we're talking about the white audience, looking to tell itself it's "doing something" by "engaging" with the "important stories" that "must be told."
In that light, it's absolutely hilarious that the Oscars would nominate this "important story" for Best Picture. It might be the most committed meta-joke since Robert Downey Jr. recorded DVD commentary for Tropic Thunder in character. The joke even extends to the experience of watching the movie in public, with an audience: when something funny happens... is it OK to laugh? How loud is it OK to laugh? Make no mistake, American Fiction is, at many points, laugh out loud funny.
But in truth, the movie is not funny most of the time. And that's another key part of the wacky Escher staircase of its construction. The vast bulk of the film follows the life of Monk when he's not writing: all the "mundane generally," yet "monumentally important personally" parts of his world. In just under two hours, we see Monk have to deal with an aging parent, a rebellious sibling, money problems, dating concerns, and more. We go from the lows of a death in the family to the highs of a wedding. The stuff of life.
These aspects of the story are so common as to approach being dull. No profound insights on Alzheimer's disease are offered here, only minimal introspection on what it's like for a family member to come out of the closet later in life. It's all just part of the background texture, between the hilarious scenes about Monk's mounting frustration over his literary success. It's the stuff I frankly want less of in the movie, so I can have more of the funny stuff. And that's exactly the point: that I'm an audience member wanting to cut out all these less "entertaining" parts of life to get at the narrow thing I'm obsessed with. I totally see what you're doing here, movie. Real-world author Percival Everett, as adapted by writer-director Cord Jefferson, is putting me in the exact position of the audience that the fictional character Monk is railing against.
In that light, it's no surprise that Oscars would show love to an art-imitates-life ouroboros of social commentary such as this.
The terrific cast includes Sterling K. Brown, Tracee Ellis Ross, Issa Rae, Erika Alexander, and Keith David (among many others), and is led by Jeffrey Wright. Wright and Brown earned Oscar nominations for their performances here. Brown seems to have done it for his broad and boisterous portrayal amid a generally grounded company. Wright's work is generally more subtle, all pent-up frustration and eyerolls -- except in the moments when he must embody the persona of the "author" of Monk's book. Perhaps it was the dual nature of the performance that caught Oscar's eye; I certainly can't begrudge Wright some recognition in any case.
I give American Fiction a B+. It made me curious to read Erasure, on which it was based, as I've heard that it takes the joke even further. (Where the movie really just gives us the tiniest taste of what Monk's spitefully written novel is like, Erasure reportedly goes much further in juxtaposing that against the more realistic material.) This is one of those movies I feel like I might never even heard of without the Oscar bump, but I'm glad I did.
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