While film critics rush to complement all ten Best Picture nominees, the average audience often carries different opinions, calling the movies “boring,” “slow,” or “weird.” But not one of these terms can describe “American Fiction.” Among the long and slow-moving films nominated this year, “American Fiction” provides much-needed comic relief and does so without sacrificing any depth.
“American Fiction” follows a Black author, Thelonious ‘Monk’ Ellison, played by Jeffery Wright, who writes exceptional yet unprofitable novels.
He finds that his books constantly get labeled as “Black literature” even though they have nothing to do with American American culture. His agent, Arthur, played by John Oritz, as well as other colleagues, pressure him to write a “Black” book that follows various stereotypes: Dialogue in AAVE, plotlines centering around crime and poverty, etc.
They mask this request as wanting to bring through “Black perspectives,” but Monk understands the racism behind their demand. If he was a white author, he could write the same books without being criticized for not being “Black enough.”
In retaliation to these demands, Monk decides to write a purposefully terrible book called “My Pafology” with all the stereotypes his non-Black colleagues expect, and it’s…awful. It’s so terrible that Arthur initially refuses to send the manuscript to publishers.
But to both Monk and Arthur’s surprise, publishers love it; or more specifically, white publishers love it. They love it so much they are willing to give him $750,000 for the rights.
“American Fiction” follows Monk’s life as “My Pafology” ascends into an absurd popularity.
Through “My Pafology,” “American Fiction” makes a critique of woke culture, arguing that when white people want to show Black perspectives, they really just want the stereotype, not the reality. Arthur claims, “white people think they want the truth, but they don’t. They just want to feel absolved.”
Sintara is a Black author who writes the “Black” books expected of her despite her more than comfortable upbringing. She challenges Monk’s point of view, claiming that appeasing a white-savior audience doesn’t require writing—in her words—a soulless book like “My Pafology.” She also argues that appealing to a white audience doesn’t make her a bad writer; she knows what sells, and at the end of the day, someone has to pay the bills.
There’s a great scene in the movie between Sintara and Monk where Monk argues that books like hers and “My Pafology” reduce Black people to stereotypes. He says, “I see the unrealized potential of Black people in this country,” and Sintara responds, “potential is what people see when they think what’s in front of them isn’t good enough.” Together, Sinatra and Monk highlight the flaws in each argument, illustrating the nuance in stereotypically Black literature.
In the B-plot, we see Monk’s personal life: his role as caretaker of his sick mother, his relationship with Coraline, played by Erika Alexander, and his troubling relationship with his siblings, Lisa, played by Tracee Ellis Ross, and Cliff, played by Sterling K. Brown.
While the “My Pafology” storyline of the film is fantastic, the family drama played in the background falls short. The entire storyline feels, for the most part, completely unnecessary to the film. It’s your typical “competitive siblings trope” which lacks the nuance to make it impactful to the film.
Instead of showing the family dynamic, the family talks about their family dynamic, which makes the relationships feel stale and contrived. In every scene, characters get to the topic of their familial problems, even if that conversation shouldn’t logically be placed there.
So, Monk might say something like, “I’m stressed,” and then Cliff would jump in and say, “That’s because Dad was always stressed, and you were like Dad and I wasn’t.” And then he’ll proceed to finish with a mic-drop one-liner that, although great, makes absolutely no sense for the scene. Now, obviously, this is not word-for-word, but every scene follows that same archetype. Every. Scene.
The family drama is even more frustrating because it significantly slows down the main plot, making us itch to return to the “My Pafology” storyline.
I read the screenplay of “American Fiction” before I watched the movie, so the effects of the acting and directing were very apparent.
Even though “American Fiction” deals with heavy topics, it manages to bring comedic elements throughout. The comedic timing of Arthur and the performances of the white publishers really make the satire—the corporate fry, the blatant ignorance, the white-savior complex.
Furthermore, each family member’s performance brings a heart to the role that does not come through in the forced script. Jeffery Wright brings the exact nervousness and unease the role requires. He not only acts but reacts, and even when he isn’t speaking he adds something new to the character.
By contrast, the directing is disappointing; it’s not by any means bad, but it doesn’t add anything new to the story. Every shot is bland and, other than in the final scene, looks the same. The directing does its job of bringing the screenplay to life, but that’s all it does. It doesn’t go the extra mile.
Overall, despite some qualms with its writing, I really enjoyed “American Fiction.” It gave a powerful perspective that we often don’t hear today and did so whilst balancing heavy and comedic content. It’s a film that, if someone asked, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend. So if you want to watch a best picture nominee this year that isn’t slow or three hours long, this one is for you.
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Cinematic is a movie review column currently publishing a series on each of the 2024 best picture nominees. To access more reviews, click the “Cinematic” tag below.
