American Fiction

Resonating across demographic boundaries, American Fiction perhaps ironically exposes an array of uncomfortable truths.

Both a multilayered relationship comedy and an edgy satire, this audacious, clear-eyed examination of perceptions and representation in the literary world is provocative without turning preachy or heavy-handed.

Playfully tweaking stereotypes and melodramatic conventions, the sharply observed directorial debut of screenwriter Cord Jefferson (“Watchmen”) explores familiar themes from a fresh and frequently hilarious perspective.

The story follows Thelonius “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright), a frustrated Black novelist and college professor at a personal and professional crossroads.

He reluctantly relocates across the country to spend time with his sister (Tracee Ellis Ross) and aging mother (Leslie Uggams). Along the way, he’s forced to confront feelings of grief and isolation that exacerbate his abrasive disposition.

A tragedy brings Monk’s free-spirited brother (Sterling K. Brown) into the mix just as he’s taking stock of his life and career. Then he becomes infuriated upon hearing an author (Issa Rae) read excerpts from a novel overflowing with tropes about “the Black experience” that draws praise predominantly from white critics and readers.

Monk reactively devises a social experiment, adopting a pen name and persona as a streetwise ex-con whose book littered with cliches and vulgarities will become a hit, at which point he can expose everyone’s hypocrisy.

His publisher (John Ortiz) begrudgingly plays along. “White people think they want the truth, but they don’t,” he explains. “They just want to be absolved.” Naturally, the scheme backfires, leaving Monk in a precarious moral position.

Jefferson, through Monk, explores how art appreciation is filtered through a lens of guilt and forced compassion, theorizing that it’s not progress when you have to pander to appease the masses.

We buy into the narrative implausibilities because the characters feel flawed and authentic, with many of the biggest laughs coming with a dash of discomfort. Wright, in a much-deserved starring role, generates hard-earned sympathy for a prickly intellectual whose creative rebirth starts with personal healing.

A meta twist in the third act doesn’t work as intended. But the screenplay — adapted from a Percival Everett novel — effectively pokes fun at the fickle publishing industry, Hollywood-style inclusivity, and the intersection of art and commerce.

Without lazily dividing heroes and villains along racial lines, American Fiction scrutinizes our dysfunctional public discourse and the ethics of selling your integrity by dispensing clever barbs in every direction.

Rated R, 117 minutes.