'American Fiction' is a takedown of everything. And proof you can't take satire too far

The world as it currently exists presents a problem to those who traffic in satire: Real life is so absurd, how do you even begin to make fun of it in a meaningful way?

Cord Jefferson, a former journalist and veteran TV writer making his feature directing debut, figures it out in “American Fiction.” It is a scathing takedown of our relationship to … I dunno, everything, really — race, privilege, academia, the literary establishment, the establishment in general. It’s also a touching family story, which sounds like an oil-and-water mix that instead blends together seamlessly.

Until the end.

Jefferson, who adapted the script from Percival Everett’s novel “Erasure,” meets the challenge of trying to figure out how to wrap up his increasingly bizarre and hilarious story head on, by acknowledging the difficulty. Points for trying, and it’s entertaining, but it’s the one part of the film that’s not as sharp as the rest.

Oh, and Jeffrey Wright is flat-out fantastic.

What is 'American' Fiction' about?

Wright plays Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, a professor and author who writes respected books that don’t sell. What’s worse, there is pressure on him to make his books more “Black.” Given that he writes modern reworkings of Ancient Greek plays, this is not a comfortable fit.

Nor does he want it to be. Monk finally gets fed up when, at a convention, he wanders into a reading by Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), the flavor of the month who is reading from her latest bestseller, “We’s Lives in Da Ghetto.” Littered with clichés about Black people, (her reading is jaw-dropping), the book represents everything Monk hates, as it’s clear Sintara has little relation to the “real” world of her novels, as white critics put it.

This comes after an incident at the college that leads to some unplanned and unwanted time off. So Monk visits his Boston home, where his mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams) is beginning to need more care. His sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), a doctor, lives there. His brother Clifford (Sterling K. Brown, hilarious), a plastic surgeon, will show up soon at the beach house they’re considering selling.

So with some time on his hands, one night Monk fixes a drink, opens his laptop and writes the most absurd novel he can conjure: “My Pafology.” It’s nothing more than hideous stereotype piled upon hideous stereotype. (In one scene actors portray a scene he’s writing; even they’re offended.) Monk delivers the book to his agent, Arthur (John Ortiz), who is shocked and refuses to send it to publishers. He’s got a point, so Monk demands that he send it under the pseudonym Stagg R. Lee, a fugitive felon writing his first novel.

They love it.

Sterling K. Brown is brilliant, as is Jeffrey Wright

The publisher offers a huge advance, marveling at how genuine the novel is, filled with lived experience. Strapped for cash to pay for care for his mother, Monk reluctantly accepts the advance. But he goes in deeper, demanding the novel’s title be even more “real.” He wants it changed to, as they say in “A Christmas Story,” fudge, “but I didn’t say fudge. I said THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words.” There’s no way a book with this title could be marketed anywhere. Monk thinks this will be what stops the absurdity in its tracks.

Think again.

Hollywood is interested, represented by a slimy director (Adam Brody), whose latest film is “Plantation Annihilation.”)

Monk’s increasing cynicism is juxtaposed with his personal life. He meets Coraline (Erika Alexander), a neighbor who is a lawyer and knows Monk’s work. He has to move his mother into a retirement home. When Clifford arrives he is all over the place, drinking and drugging (he knows a little too much about the oxycodone he gives his mother to relax her). He’s going through a painful, financially debilitating divorce and has come out as gay; Brown brilliantly weaves humor and tragedy into his performance, surely his best.

But it all comes back to Monk, and Wright. The genius in Wright’s performance and Jefferson’s direction lies in how they don’t succumb to the temptation to overplay anything. Wright gets Monk’s rage just right — it’s internal, though at some point a pressure cooker has to blow.

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'American Fiction' 4.5 stars

Great ★★★★★ Good ★★★★

Fair ★★★ Bad ★★ Bomb ★

Director: Cord Jefferson.

Cast: Jeffrey Wright, Tracee Ellis Ross, Sterling K. Brown.

Rating: R for language throughout, some drug use, sexual references and brief violence.

How to watch: In theaters Dec. 22.

Reach Goodykoontz at bill.goodykoontz@arizonarepublic.com. Facebook: facebook.com/GoodyOnFilm. Twitter: @goodyk.

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This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: 'American Fiction' review: Razor-sharp satire cuts like a scalpel