54452: American Fiction

In 1997, Liar, Liar showed us just how much of human existence is predicated on our ability to avoid the truth. Lies help us spare the feelings of loved ones and strangers. They give us hope. They keep us from getting fired every time we open our mouths within earshot of a manager. Lies give us comfort. But, at the same time, when we start to buy into those lies—getting high on our own supply, as it were—then those very same lies cripple us.

When we meet Thelonious "Monk" Ellison at the beginning of American Fiction, he is crippled by fiction. He's an author and educator who has woven a story about who he is, how he fits into the world, and what he wants out of it, and by the end of the first scene, we see that it's falling down—hilariously—around his head.

Monk isn't alone, of course. His entire familial existence is built on fictions they've been willing to tell each other and to believe, to varying degrees, for decades. Watching the film deconstruct these stories is both cringe-inducing and cathartic. They reckon with deep-seated misconceptions about parental fidelity, sexuality, infirmity, finances, and just about everything else a family can find a way to lie to itself about.

The narrative is propelled along by major, undeniable events—job loss, divorce, marriage, death—which keep untangling the fictions that have both held the family together and driven them apart. Underneath it all is the story-within-a-story, Monk's rage-filled takedown of African American grief-sploitation fiction, the aptly titled Fuck, written as an autobiography by a street-level criminal, Stagg R. Leigh, created by Monk. Despite his best efforts, Fuck is a commercial juggernaut, providing him with critical and financial success far beyond anything he has experienced under his own name. The book, Fuck, takes on a life of its own, despite Monk's many attempts to derail its success. Watching Monk reconcile Leigh with his many identities is a joy, and Jeffrey Wright pulls it off beautifully.

American Fiction shows us a son, brother, teacher, author, gangster, caretaker, boyfriend, and self-sabotaging head case all at once, and all through the lens of race in America. There's a lot to unpack, and a lot of joy to be had while doing it.