Every now and then, there is a film that speaks to where you are in life. The premiere of American Fiction at TIFF did just that. Based on the book Erasure by writer Percival Everett, Emmy Award-winning writer and story editor Cord Jefferson makes his directorial debut by playing on the “funny because it’s true” aspects of life as a Black writer while also doubling down on the stereotypes, racism, and discrimination that still stand in the entertainment industry. There is a gap between those in authority and those under them, and the latter must constantly reinforce the fact of their multidimensionality to the former. This film specifically carries the message that Black people are multidimensional people. It’s a value that BGN shares with this film.
Recently having voiced my immense yearning to write stories again but feeling blocked and limited in doing so, I find American Fiction to be like destiny playing the perfect hand, allowing me to be present in Toronto for its debut. The protagonist, Monk, was relatable in more ways than one. While I have yet to read the book, Erasure and American Fiction both share the idea of feeling alienated by other people’s outlook on race. It was clear that American Fiction also resonated with the other Black journalists and filmmakers in the audience. For his first directing feature, Jefferson has provided something refreshing.
American Fiction is a remarkable film with a beautiful cast. From beginning to end, the film is hilarious, sad, and sometimes infuriating. It’s another step in the right direction toward the idea of Black actors as more than the drug dealers, pimps, slaves, and broken families that we see so much of on the big screen. American Fiction highlights certain questions: What does it mean to be seen as Black, and who defines what is Black enough? Who are we writing for, and what are Black stories? American Fiction is an engaging way to get conversations going. It also invites viewers to have that inner dialogue with themselves and attempt to be the catalyst for change. Some might find these types of conversations too much, and that’s okay.
The film follows Thelonious Ellison, aka Monk, played by Jeffrey Wright. He is a respected author and professor of English literature at a predominantly white university. When his outbursts at students “offended” by colorful language from classic American fiction get him put on probation, Monk looks to his latest novel, which publishers have discarded for not being Black enough. He travels to his hometown of Boston to participate in a literary festival. Here, he meets first-time author Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), whose book We’s Lives In Da Ghetto Monk dismisses as pandering to readers seeking stereotypical stories of the “Black experience.” Meanwhile, Monk is also experiencing family challenges with his sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown), and mother Mrs. Agnes Ellison (Leslie Uggams). Frustrated and fed up, Monk, under a pseudonym, writes a book that contains every Black cliché. Unfortunately, it gets approved and fast-tracked before Monk knows what happened.
The cast also includes John Ortiz, Erika Alexander, Adam Brody, and Keith David. The relationship that stood out the most was that between Monk and Cliff. They are brothers who are different in every way, yet their love and playfulness shine through. This display of Black men and Black love also highlights the disparities between how we usually see Black men portrayed on screen and reality. Jeffrey Wright and Sterling K. Brown were fantastic. These two men tackle issues like race, connection, homophobia, and death gracefully and humorously.
The relationship that didn’t do it for me was that between Monk and Coraline (Alexander). It lacked chemistry. Their interactions looked like a chore or sacrifice. It was very stiff. On her own, Alexander is great. She gives drama and comedy with ease. She is a little edgier than the rest of the cast, which makes for a fascinating dynamic throughout the film. Despite their lackluster bond, the character Coraline does shine a light on Monk and how he has trouble letting people in. But even so, their moments together were less than appealing on the big screen. They were just awkward.
The script dialogue was on point. Every phrase and word flowed, setting the perfect pace. Good dialogue advances the plot, establishes character, and provides exposition while sounding natural and lifelike — mission accomplished in American Fiction.
Near the end of the film, while everyone was laughing, I found myself wondering: Are we all laughing at the same thing for the same reasons? Is the man behind me really laughing with me or at me? It was dramatic irony, but was the call to enact change there? American Fiction hit all the right notes emotionally and intellectually. There will always be a space for it. Hopefully, audiences will think about it and learn something.
American Fiction was brought to TIFF by Orion Pictures, MRC, T-Street Production in association with Almost Infinite, and 3 Arts Entertainment.
What's Your Reaction?
