‘American Fiction’ Review – A Brutally Hilarious Satire About Commodifying Black Voices [TIFF 2023]

Being Black in America is a constant negotiation.

There is your true self: your likes, dislikes, fears, desires, quirks, and commonalities with the people around you. Then, there is what the world sees, informed by evolving but persistent stereotypes that center on suffering, struggle, and debasement. At best, these traits misunderstand you and, at worst, justify your subjugation and erasure. Part of being Black in America is reconciling who you are with what others expect because of your skin color. This tricky balancing act manifests itself in everything from imposter syndrome to prostration at the altar of white supremacy.

Being a Black writer in America is discombobulating in its own right. Gatekeepers and tastemakers of the arts tell you they want and value your voice and experiences. You are validated until you realize they want a specific voice. More often than not, they yearn for Black perspectives informed by the same stereotypes you encounter everywhere else in life. If your experience aligns with those expectations, assignments, applause, and accolades are significantly easier to attain. If not, there will be pushback. The truth of Blackness’ variety, intricacies, and nuances are inconvenient. More importantly, they are harder to market.

That is the reality of American Fiction’s Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright), an English professor and author. He’s in a professional rut, forced onto academic leave, and rejected by publishers for not having “Black enough” manuscripts. Meanwhile, his family – sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), brother Cliff (Sterling K Brown), and mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams) – is rocked by two tragedies. It forces Monk to become personally and financially responsible for Agnes’ healthcare. Cash-strapped and bitter, Monk channels his frustration into a pseudonymous novel that captures the Black experience his publishers crave, rife with gang violence and poverty. To his horror, the gag book is a smash, scoring him a hefty advance and even a film deal. Amidst his secret newfound success, Monk finds solace in his budding relationship with his neighbor Coraline (Erika Alexander). His experiment spirals out of control, forcing Monk to answer tough questions about himself and his existence.

First and foremost, American Fiction skewers how Americans discuss and process race. For his directorial debut, Cord Jefferson adapts Percival Everett’s novel Erasure into a no-holds-barred barrage of razor-sharp, wicked humor. The comedy cuts bone-deep from the first scene, where Monk engages with a white student in a brutally hilarious classroom debate about the N-word in fiction. Jefferson mainly focuses his barbed pen on white cultural elites’ commodification of Black voices, but he strikes multiple points so the comedy never becomes stale. His comedic assault on governing systems and ideas also bruises every character and institution, ruthlessly checking their vanity, hypocrisy, intellectualization, objectification, and incuriosity. Jefferson’s approach is wildly compelling, earning stomach-twisting laughs and revealing profound insights that can rock your foundation in the best ways.

American Fiction is relentlessly funny, but it is also surprisingly heartfelt. Jefferson weaves his satire around the Ellisons, juxtaposing high culture’s flattening of Blackness with a vibrant portrait of a complex, flawed Black family. He is equally unsparing in examining the Ellisons’ issues, from the siblings’ hesitance to claim responsibility for their mother to the homophobia that estranged Clifford from the family. The Ellisons’ tricky dynamics sit alongside genuine expressions of love and connection, particularly the romances between Monk and Coraline and Agnes’ aide Lorraine and Maynard. Jefferson is extraordinarily deft in balancing the tonal shifts, fearlessly hitting humorous beats even amidst heavy drama. It’s effective because there is a light sadness beneath the script’s sarcasm.

The film’s undercurrent of disappointment and befuddlement comes to life most vividly with Jeffrey Wright. Even as an unassuming, curmudgeonly figure, he is effortlessly commanding, locking you into every biting word. He plays across many modes in the film – bitter jerk, tentative romantic, terrified son – and succeeds at every single one. Jefferson grants Wright the perfect leading role, and he exceeds the opportunity to deliver one of the year’s best performances. Wright’s supporting cast leaves similarly strong impressions. Erika Alexander is luminescent, emanating a calm, mature energy while possessing her own sharp, weary wit. Sterling K Brown further proves why he is one of Hollywood’s most soulful actors, tempering Clifford’s mania with moving pathos.

American Fiction operates on a ferocious wavelength that will challenge some audiences. People will often miss the point, laughing too hard at the wrong jokes or misunderstanding the more incisive observations. While true, the film, one of the year’s best, is incredibly successful at taking down a culture keen to discount the worth of Black contributions to the point that even we, as Black people, buy into it. (Jefferson’s adaptation comes two decades after Erasure’s publication, a damned shame given its current relevance.) As pervasive as the challenges of Blackness are, Jefferson insists there is still joy and humor to find in being honest and open about them. At the very least, we deserve to laugh through the struggles. 

As varied and intricate as the experiences are, there is nothing Blacker than that.

American Fiction held its World Premiere as part of the Special Presentations section at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival. It is set to be released in select theaters on November 3, 2023 courtesy of Orion Pictures with further expansion on November 17. 

Director: Cord Jefferson

Writer: Cord Jefferson

Rated: R

Runtime: 117m