American Fiction

American Fiction is an absolute triumph. After coming into the scene with an explosive TIFF premiere back in September, I had my eyes fixated on this with high expectations. Though I was somewhat worried it couldn’t possibly live up to its early reviews as trailers began playing, I was quickly proven wrong. This film had my packed theater hooting and hollering from start to finish, with an exquisitely sharp written script and pitch-perfect timing by all involved. All the while, it kept me mesmerized with the dramatic beats revolving around our protagonist, Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (portrayed by the marvelous Jeffrey Wright). The film admittedly juggles a lot, perhaps too much at times, but it finds a way to ace every note in the end.

American Fiction starts off at a rapid-fire pace, as we see Monk debating and yelling at his students for being unable to have constructive conversation about a piece of writing because it contains a racial slur in the title. That leads into an incredibly funny scene of Monk getting fired and promptly roasting his colleague for only writing airport novels, only for the film to shift dramatically after an important person in Monk’s life passes away right in front of him and his mother begins showing signs of memory loss. All of this happens within the span of 20 minutes, by the way. Fairly quickly, the film firmly establishes itself as a hyper-comedic satire and deeply layered family drama wrapped up in a single bow.

Jeffrey Wright flexes acting chops never seen before as he turns in what is hands down a career-best, perhaps even career-defining, performance. From his appearances in television shows such as Westworld and What If? and minor roles in blockbusters like The Batman and The Hunger Games franchise, it was clear that Wright could handle a serious role. Yet to take the leading role, in what is mostly a comedic film, is a step in a direction I never could have guessed for Wright. Nevertheless, he makes it look easy, handling every comedic and dramatic scene with the proper amount of weight and juggling everything masterfully. While Wright has constantly been pushed to the background in most of the projects he’s been in, he's front and center here and gives an unbelievable performance for the ages.

Sterling K. Brown (as Cliff, Monk’s earnest yet unreliable brother) is another show-stopping performance as he puts together one of the funniest yet most heartfelt performances I’ve ever seen. Brown has a unique ability to either make you laugh uncontrollably or sob to the most sincerely performed monologue at any given moment, and to see both these abilities implemented in the same performance is a testament to his talent. Aside from the two juggernauts, the entire film is just a beyond stacked line-up of career best performances, mostly from lesser-known actors like Erika Alexander (as Coraline, Monk’s newfound love interest), Leslie Uggams (as Agnes, Monk’s Altzheimer’s stricken mother), Myra Lucricia Taylor (as Lorraine, Agnes’s caretaker), and John Ortiz (as Arthur, Monk’s hilarious agent).

The most impressive element of this film though, aside from the script and performances, is the delicacy with which Cord Jefferson handles the juxtaposition of the cultural landscape in the film to how we live in the world today. We as an audience find it funny watching these caricatures play out on screen as we see white movie executives talk about a black man “wearing a bandana on his head” or as we see three white people talk about “letting black voices be heard” as they refuse to listen to the only two black people in the room. But it’s only funny because of how scarily similar it is to how we live today. In the end, we watch Monk argue with his slimy movie producer (Adam Brody) and see actively how Hollywood, and society in general, can chew you up and spit you out in its own, new, image. Thankfully, this film didn’t feel chewed up and spit out by Hollywood’s profit machine! Instead, we got a genuine, sincere, and hilarious film that should be immortalized as one of the best of its kind.

9/10