REVIEW: AMERICAN FICTION is nothing short of a cultural tour de force.

"White people think they want the truth, but they don't.

They just want to feel absolved."

American Fiction screenplay (2023)

Whenever I watch movie trailers, I ask myself if I'm seeing the best of the film in those two minutes. Marketing campaigns can be cleverly deceptive enticing ticket buyers to purchase what looks like a good time. Sometimes, it's not.

Thirty years ago (Am I starting to geek you out?), I remember going to see what was touted as a romantic comedy starring Geena Davis and Stephen Rea called Angie. The trailer looked fun and funny - sharp, witty. It was anything but. Whatever happened between the trailer edit and the final cut of the film is still a mystery. But the movie was just awful - nothing like the trailer in spirit, tone or tenor. I must have left the theater feeling scarred by this advertising deceit because, ever since, I watch trailers with a schizophrenic sense of excitement and skepticism.

So I couldn't help but wonder watching the very funny trailer for American Fiction back in October if the movie would live up to its promise, or if this was just another astutely edited promo to lure viewers into the theater. Suffice to say, the trailer was the best kind of teaser: American Fiction not only lived up to its promise of being a smart, savvy, insightful look at cultural stereotypes and the people who perpetuate and buy into them. It surpassed everything, exceeding all my reasonably high expectations. In short, American Fiction is a triumph.

Based on Percival Everett's 2001 novel Erasure and written for the screen and directed by Cord Jefferson in his directorial debut, American Fiction tells the story of a Los Angeles-based professor and novelist, Thelonious "Monk" Ellison (Jeffrey Wright) who becomes so frustrated by the lack of interest in publications, that he pens, using a pseudonym, a satiric (in his mind) novel about the black cultural stereotypes he so disdains, only to find an enthusiastic response from publishers and the public. Be careful what you wish for. But there's more.

Given the often reductionist nature of movies to whittle down complex literary and historical themes to simpler, easier plots and scenarios, American Fiction could have been an extended SNL skit that focused on the inherent humor found when a proud intellectual gets caught up in mainstream celebrity, a kind of one-joke skit. Instead, writer/director Jefferson brilliantly weaves the intricacies of Monk's personal life into the cultural conflicts embodied in his work. Angry outbursts against snowflake students who find his direct use and examination of words like "nigger" offensive send him on a leave of absence without pay, forcing him to return for a time to his Boston-based family where he faces multiple pieces of unfinished business, including estrangement from his siblings, an aging mother, and the memory of a father he idolized.

With so much going on (I won't attempt to explain all the plot details), the end result could be messy, chaotic, or simply unsatisfying. It is none of those. Rather, Jefferson has written an intelligent, sometimes biting, laugh-out-loud funny treatise on race, stereotypes and the divisive, polarized world in which we live. I don't remember when I've laughed so hard or so often at a movie and, at the same time, marveled at its wit and intelligence. Like Barbie, American Fiction masterfully uses humor to highlight deeply embedded cultural notions and inner personal turmoil, skewering well-intentioned liberal and ill-informed conservative behaviors, as well as academic and corporate mindsets, in the process. It is a joy to watch how Jefferson brings so many disparate threads (homosexuality, divorce, Alzheimer's, academic freedom) together in a cohesive, compelling narrative.

Jefferson's efforts are enhanced by a stellar cast, led by Wright and including Sterling K. Brown and Tracie Ellis Ross as Monk's siblings, John Ortiz as his publishing agent, Issa Rae (also fine as President Barbie in Greta Gerwig's Barbie) as rival author Sintara Golden, and Leslie Uggams as his mother. It is within Monk's family relationships, fractured though they have become, that he finds a level of self-acceptance, and Wright's understated performance gives authenticity to that process. And, unlike other depictions of academics this past year (Nicolas Cage and Ethan Hawke come to mind), Wright is neither a befuddled milquetoast nor a bored, distracted cynic. His inner struggle is directly connected to his world view, his personal beliefs and his desire to dispel myths about racial stereotypes.

One of my favorite scenes in the movie is a conversation between Monk and Sintara, who both wind up as judges on a Massachusetts "Book of the Year" panel. Monk has been critical (jealous?) of Sintara's success and accuses her of pandering to audiences about black culture. How can she, a black woman who has led a privileged life, write about the poor and disenfranchised? Sintara, an Oberlin graduate (yay!) whose career path has been very different from Monk's, reminds him that other (white) authors, including Charles Bukowski and Bret Easton Ellis, wrote about the downtrodden. Why, she queries, isn't he angry at them? This exchange is a great example of the depth Jefferson achieves in his script's dialogue, one that looks at broader social divides as well as how personal experiences shape the way we navigate them. Hopefully, Wright will receive acknowledgement from AMPAS as he is clearly deserving to be in the top five Best Actor performances this year. Ditto for Sterling K. Brown as Supporting Actor. And, of course, Jefferson should be in the Adapted Screenplay race as well.

American Fiction is currently in limited release in theaters. It is definitely a movie worth seeing, one worth getting dressed up for and going out in the cold. Cord Jefferson has produced a stunning debut film that is intelligent, razor-edged funny, and insightful. And, at 117 minutes, it is tightly economical, making its points powerfully succinct and meaningful. Unlike other directors today, who seem more and more self-indulgent turning out movies at two and a half hours or longer (are you listening, Christopher Nolan and Martin Scorsese?), Jefferson, who was reportedly working on a limited budget and 26-day filming schedule, has crafted a pungent and thoughtful study of contemporary black culture through the eyes of one weary academic.

A warning: not all the issues are resolved or all the loose ends tied up neat and tidy. In particular, the ending is a very clever re-examination of some of the movies themes that keeps you guessing about the eventual outcome. But that's okay. Some stories benefit from a bit of ambiguity, and American Fiction succeeds in leaving you with a sense of satisfaction, as if you'd just made a heartfelt connection with an old friend or found a long-lost treasure.