American Fiction (2023, Jefferson)
American Fiction is delicate—sensitive—in a way few satires are. I expected to write something along the lines of, “it’s fine, but Bamboozled already exists, yada yada yada,” and yes, there are clear parallels between the two. Yet director/adapter Cord Jefferson wisely dodges the jagged edges of that (or any) Spike Lee joint; he just doesn’t seem interested in it. Instead, Jefferson focuses on the soft, mushy aspects of human experience vis a vis racism and art creation. Black artists, after all, are not a monolith. American Fiction vociferously declaims as much. But its insistence on pointing out differences belies its surprising and moving modesty. When the movie traverses into matters more heightened, it stumbles. The family drama, while well-performed, feels contrived. The arch, ironic elements, too, land with the force of a pillow fight. No, it’s when we get a full subplot dedicated to a marriage between a housekeeper and mild-mannered security officer; that’s what I responded to. I was even moved to tears.
There’s too light a self-immolation here, a quasi-critique of wealth privilege within the Black community that doesn’t go far enough and ultimately sullies the good stuff. Making a movie about the inner lives of a rich family of doctors and intellectuals is totally fine, making one knocking them down a peg for their privilege is fine, but swirling the two together requires a finesse Jefferson doesn’t quite manage—his focus is too scattershot. As it stands, we get an easy-to-solve puzzle with incongruent pieces.
But I can’t help it, I enjoy movies about writers. Couldn’t take my eyes off of Wright, whose Thelonious “Monk” Ellison is deliciously cagey and pretentious. I too struggle with a superiority complex brought on by my OB/GYN dad’s doting attention, so when Monk gets told what-for by his girlfriend, of course that resonated with me. I’ve also read a lot of complaints that this is too much like the TV Jefferson cut his teeth on, and yeah, I see it: the most cinematic element here is the electrifying opening title sequence. That said, I’m not bothered by it if that’s what it takes to get (admittedly self-conscious) literary sensibilities in multiplexes. Jefferson’s is a voice I look forward to tuning in for.
