American Fiction (Cord Jefferson, 2023)

[therewillbeblus]

American Fiction

I went into this knowing basically nothing (recommended, stop reading), and I wound up immensely impressed. Any movie that leads you into a new scene completely blind to what it could be each time, and yet conscientiously invited into its world, is a winner. This is a film that fuses Desplechin’s eccentric, sticky family dynamics (and respectfully elided history yielding earnest humanity) with Preston Sturges’ gentle satirical wit, and the application of Old Hollywood’s general economy and comfort in swiftly shifting between comic and dramatic tones will work for some more than others. I found it a delight.

I totally get why the jarring-on-paper transitions between biting satire and restrained family drama are dividing critics, but I absolutely loved the choice to consciously make a mess of a movie about the mess of life. The pronounced self-reflexivity in the end may feel unnecessary after the film has successfully woven this meta-relationship throughout with more subtlety - it’s essentially a slapdash concoction of all three Johnny Walker bottles' quality, from John Ortiz’ (who has never been used better - seriously, bravo) metaphor: low, mid, and high brow art. It’s about the process of writing, engaging with family relationships in older age, coping with inner change and in your surroundings... getting honest with yourself and others about yourself and others. The text is expressed so bluntly (yet elegantly, is this a first?) across the many moods in this picture, that it shields the vast scope of its diversified ambitions. But there’s also carefully-placed and restrained subtext present - perhaps a mirrored allegory to the oscillation of burying emotions and getting vulnerable with others and oneself that Wright (in a career-best, quietly versatile performance; same goes for Sterling K. Brown in a very unique part) struggles with - and that we can relate to outside of the strictly black experience. But that’s there too, in new and old ways, with something to say and the maturity not to say what it doesn't know. The narrative ambiguity used as a punchline in the finale similarly hides the wonderful ambiguity the film holds towards its central conceit about the value and harm of art that reinforces derogatory stereotypes. The filmmakers remain neutral and curious, like a good writer - as said directly at the start of this tale - but also refuse to pull punches or resist asking challenging questions with persistence. The comedy never betrays the drama or vice versa.

The magical if arrhythmic balance between disorder and clarity is the film's greatest strength. So it of course dances with inspiration from Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Arnaud Desplechin, and Preston Sturges, and dares to make them complementary (I'm not familiar with the source, but if it's as tonally varied as the film, you couldn't pick better influences). The chaos is welcomed, but contained, and reflective of the disorganization and skills and protectors we all have in our lives. It’s a terrific film about Boston - and, for a film so respectfully deliberate in its accessibility, I was shocked at how many references were used in ways that weren’t explained and often contained the esoteric knowledge to explain the whole interaction being shown! Bold, but this really only occurs in the first act, so it's also reflexive of Wright’s rigid superiority before he began to be humbled and the film turned into different versions of digestible crowdpleaser! It’s a brilliantly eclectic, smart, funny movie that’s able to be enjoyed on either a complex, layered level or on one of detached pleasure or touching relatability (much like how the film itself could work without any of the satirical book subplot, as just a family/romantic dramedy, or reversed). It’s got it all, and it knows it, and it knows that we know it without showing off. And with all that’s transparent, there’s so much left behind, unknown, not ‘fixed’, and I loved that honesty. It’s a very honest movie for fiction.

[Matt]

Congrats to Wazoo, and what a great crop of winners in general! Really the only big one to quibble about is American Fiction

American Fiction is an important, relevant film that speaks to our times. No wonder it won.

An absolutely toothless, clumsy, resolutely middlebrow film. Not to be too much of a snob about it, but it’s exactly what you might expect from someone coming up from 2010s prestige TV. Easily the least worthy of the five nominees. Nice performances, though.

[Fiery Angel]

Armond?

[Matt]

I usually never read the man’s work, but he’s 100% correct about this one. A stopped clock, etc.

[therewillbeblus]

Congrats to Wazoo, and what a great crop of winners in general! Really the only big one to quibble about is American Fiction

American Fiction is an important, relevant film that speaks to our times. No wonder it won.

An absolutely toothless, clumsy, resolutely middlebrow film. Not to be too much of a snob about it, but it’s exactly what you might expect from someone coming up from 2010s prestige TV. Easily the least worthy of the five nominees. Nice performances, though.

My rebuttal

[Matt]

Thank you for linking to that. I appreciate that you mentioned Alexander Payne as a reference point, because I thought of him specifically as someone who mines a similar vein with much more satisfying results. The protagonists of American Fiction and The Holdovers, for example, have a lot in common, but the latter affords a depth to its main character’s failure and mediocrity that the former does not. It seems like Cord Jefferson pulls a lot of punches and maybe was afraid to make Monk unlikeable enough (he’s no Paul Dedalus!) He also does not do anything interesting with his supporting characters, all of whom—from the goofy white liberals tripping over their own guilt to the kind-hearted housekeeper keeping the family together—are simplistic stereotypes. Only the actors’ performances (Sterling K. Brown in particular) keep some of the characters from fading into the wallpaper.

I don’t hate the movie, and I don’t begrudge it its modest success, I just think there’s nothing particularly noteworthy, unique, timely, or special about it. The book it’s based on actually sounds really interesting, and it seems like a lot of the choices made in adapting it pushed the film towards mawkish earnestness and away from any genuine satire or commentary. It doesn’t help that the book was published in 2001 and mainstream publishing has become vastly more narrow, pandering, and profit-driven in the interim. The book seems really prescient in its critique; the movie seems quaint.

[Mr Sausage]

For sure give the book a try. It’s a bit more caustic in its satire. The characters are less likeable and you get to read My Pafology in full, which is quite a ride. Percival Everett is fantastic.

[therewillbeblus]

Thank you for linking to that. I appreciate that you mentioned Alexander Payne as a reference point, because I thought of him specifically as someone who mines a similar vein with much more satisfying results. The protagonists of American Fiction and The Holdovers, for example, have a lot in common, but the latter affords a depth to its main character’s failure and mediocrity that the former does not. It seems like Cord Jefferson pulls a lot of punches and maybe was afraid to make Monk unlikeable enough (he’s no Paul Dedalus!) He also does not do anything interesting with his supporting characters, all of whom—from the goofy white liberals tripping over their own guilt to the kind-hearted housekeeper keeping the family together—are simplistic stereotypes. Only the actors’ performances (Sterling K. Brown in particular) keep some of the characters from fading into the wallpaper.

See, I won't dispute that there's some craving for more development, but I thought it worked as a snapshot of messy dynamics without a beginning or end. Payne has a tendency to wrap things up more neatly - which is often what we expect from movies, and there's nothing wrong with that! - but I felt Jefferson did the opposite of pulling punches. In depriving us of cathartic ends, he pulls off something far more challenging: an effective portrait of nonlinear development and less-defined growth. It just felt more honest to how things actually play out in real life. That includes the peripheral romance with the housekeeper, which felt true even if we're not allotted all the gooey details to 'earn' greater interest. It's enough to be happy for them.

A lot of people found the bifurcated focus on satire and family drama to be at-odds with one another, but there's something complementary about the absurdity of the satire paired with the eccentricities of the family system, and how this all contributes to Monk's existential strain and ultimate surrender. It's a quiet surrender, but it's a welcome ending that gestures towards growth. I'd need to see the film again to comment more specifically, but lines like Brown wishing their father knew more about his identity speak volumes in what's elided compared to some overstated soliloquy we might get in a normal Oscar crowdplease.