As an unconventional way to start a review, I remember watching the first episode of the tv show This Is Us back in 2016. I was on the fence if I should bother… the show hadn’t become a phenomenon yet so was just another episode of a new show. I watched a few minutes and shut it off as soon as they introduced a black character who they had the depth and courage (<eyes roll>) to put into a plot involving drugs and the cops. I didn’t stop watching because he was a drug dealer, but because the only thing the writers could think to do with a black character was to give him a stereotypical “urban” plotline.

The point of this anecdote is that this reaction to This Is Us was in my thoughts as I watched American Fiction… a film about a guy who probably would have rolled his eyes along with me.

The film is about a less-than-popular published author played by Jeffrey Wright who goes home to visit his messed up family. He also has issues with what kinds of books publishers want from Black writers and he refuses to kowtow to their limited vision. Until one day, as a joke, he writes the most stereotypical “urban” street fiction he can vomit up. And it sells.

This flick exists in two lanes. One lane is a gentle, thoughtful dramatic film about a guy coming home for a visit… and the other is a biting satire of the publishing world and what’s accepted from Black creatives. I’d say the movie should have picked a lane but I’m not sure what lane they should have gone with because both are pretty good. They just don’t always mesh well together.

But that’s just surface level. Because the film argues that only a certain type of “urban” style sells well from black creators… and yet we’re watching a perfectly good film about black characters that doesn’t trade in stereotypes. The movie is both about this conflict in its own fictional world as well as a challenge to the audience about what kind of fiction we’re actually watching.

It’s not always a perfect balancing act since sometimes the meta commentary gets a little fond of itself. And the broadness of its comedy doesn’t mesh with the realistic family drama. And then there’s an ending that, ironically and meta-textually, is a Wayne’s World ending… which consists of multiple endings (unfortunately, we don’t get the Scooby Doo ending).

And all this vortex of meta humor about what kind of black stories a white audience accepts started to feel like what maybe a real world white audience might want to be assured of while watching American Fiction. “Surely,” a hypothetical audience member might say, “I am evolved enough to admire this film calling out OTHER audience members for their unintentional pandering, but I understand and love THIS movie so I’m not like them”. In other words, the movie kind of acts as a double layering of meta-commentary.

Or maybe I’m just making stuff up.

Regardless of whether I’m an elevated, erudite film watcher or just part of the problem, I enjoyed this film. I wish I’d enjoyed it more as either the pure, honest family drama OR the jabbing satire since the two didn’t always fuse together for me. On the other hand, they absolutely fused on a meta level. I come away confused, but enjoying the rapids.

Score: 84