By Richard Ades
American Fiction’s opening credits are accompanied by funky music reminiscent of ’70s “blaxploitation” cinema. That efficiently sets us up for the flick’s satire of entertainment that trades in Black stereotypes.
If only the satire itself were delivered as efficiently. Instead, director/co-writer Cord Jefferson mixes it in with a series of family and personal tragedies and challenges that delay and dilute its message.
It’s all pleasantly entertaining, thanks largely to a fine cast led by Jeffrey Wright. It’s just not as pointed as it might be.
Wright plays Thelonius “Monk” Ellison, an L.A.-based writer of brainy books that struggle to find an audience. While attending a book festival in Boston, his hometown, Monk is frustrated to find that most of the attention is being grabbed by up-and-coming author Sintara Golden (Issa Rae) and her best-selling tale of inner-city life, We’s Lives in da Ghetto.
Sintara’s success, combined with Monk’s failure to find a publisher for his latest ultra-intellectual effort, confirms his view that African American writers can’t sell books unless they fill them with stereotypical representations of Black existence. In other words, they have to be immersed in crime, poverty, anger, drugs and violence.
In an effort to dramatize the absurdity of the situation, Monk dashes off an exaggerated version of such a book and instructs his agent (John Ortiz) to market it under the pen name Stagg R. Leigh. Anyone who’s seen The Producers will probably guess what happens next: Much to Monk’s chagrin, this supposed loser is snapped up by eager publishers who see it as a surefire hit.
This forces Monk to play the part of the fictitious author, who’s supposedly a street-wise escaped felon, while interacting with various bigwigs who not only want to publish the book but to turn it into a Hollywood blockbuster. The result is comedic and satirical gold.
Before we get to that point, however, Monk’s life is hit with several complications, including an unexpected death, a mother (Leslie Uggams) who’s stricken with Alzheimer’s, an estranged brother (Sterling K. Brown) who recently came out as gay and an amorous neighbor (Erika Alexander).
These and other developments are generally handled well, but they do nothing to advance the flick’s frontal attack on an entertainment industry that too often deals in racial stereotypes.
The film reclaims its satirical edge with an unconventional finale that debates just what kind of story it meant to tell. That’s a clever and all-too-appropriate way to wrap things up, since it’s apparent that first-time filmmaker Jefferson, as talented as he is, never quite made up his mind.
Rating: 3½ stars (out of 5)
American Fiction (rated R) opens Dec. 11-12 in theaters nationwide.
Reel Time With Richard Ades 