Every era has its own 'American Fiction,' but is there anything new to say?
This essay contains spoilers for the new film American Fiction.
A thing about racial stereotypes in America is their stubborn pervasiveness — how they're impossible to eradicate completely even as societal ideals and sensitivities progress over time; how all-consuming they can remain, keeping Black artists on the defensive and in constant need of addressing and defying them in their work. Toni Morrison referred to racism as a means of "distraction," a way to keep marginalized people "explaining, over and over again, [their] reason for being."
Understanding this reality helps explain why every era gets at least one or two notable social satires wrestling with the tension between Black art and commerce (also known as "selling out"). Cord Jefferson's thought-provoking directorial debut American Fiction is the latest iteration. It's based on Percival Everett's savvy novel Erasure, which was first published more than two decades ago, but naturally feels as relevant as ever, what with the pervasiveness of racial tropes and all the accompanying discourse.
Like a plethora of real and fictional creatives before him, novelist Thelonious "Monk" — later retitled — is a ghetto melodrama penned under the sly pseudonym "." (The profane word is spelled out in the film.) It's meant to be a twisted joke but ends up netting him a huge offer. It's swept up by a big corporate publisher, a movie producer, and the reading public, much to Monk's existential angst and his financial benefit. Only his agent Arthur (John Ortiz) knows the truth.
