Without the family drama at its center, Cord Jefferson’s American Fiction — about a disgruntled author who, in jest, writes a grossly stereotypical African American novel that achieves mass success — could be a mockumentary about Hollywood.
“I thought it was one of the best scripts I’d ever read,” Sterling K. Brown says of the adaptation of Percival Everett’s 2001 novel, Erasure. “It was able to make fun of an industry and also challenge it to say there are ways in which you could be better,” he says. “You are narrow in terms of Black life that you are willing to portray for mass consumption. I’m going to tell you that, and at the same time, I’m going to give you an idea of other stories that would be viable for mass consumption.”
Brown portrays Clifford Ellison, a flashy plastic surgeon and brother to the film’s protagonist, Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright). Cliff, newly out of the closet after divorcing his wife, struggles to find his footing within his family after hiding his queer identity for years. The story arc gave Brown a chance to honor the struggles of the LGBTQ community and shed the image of one of his most career-defining characters.
“Coming off six years of This Is Us, it was very important for me to find roles that did not feel Randall Pearson-esque,” he explains. “Cliff was a lovely sort of comedic foil. He’s also a person who needs to be dealt with rather than the person who’s dealing with everything. It’s kind of nice to be the dude that has to be dealt with.”
Brown, who has earned an Indie Spirit nomination for best supporting performance for his work in the film, speaks to THR about American Fiction fulfilling an appetite for Black stories onscreen.
How closely does this movie mimic your experience as an actor and producer when it comes to the stories you get to tell?
What I’ve found, oftentimes, is studios are interested in diversity and telling diverse stories, but they’re not always interested in talking about race directly. What American Fiction does is talk about it directly, but through a humorous lens, which gives you greater permission. As a producer, it’s about trying to find that balance. As a performer, I qualify my career in terms of pre- and post-O.J. When The People v. O.J. Simpson happened [in 2016, with Brown as attorney Christopher Darden], things changed in a lovely way that was a surprise. But before, when you’re sort of waiting around and looking for crumbs, you wind up taking what’s given to you, whether or not it’s something you’re excited about, because you have to pay bills. I’ve been fortunate in that if I felt like there was something that I was uncomfortable doing, I wouldn’t do it. And in talking to the cast about this, I have to recognize my own personal level of privilege as a dude versus my female counterparts. Earlier on in my career, there was a lot of talk like, “He’s so smart, he needs to lose that intelligent thing.” But at a certain point, there was a shift. Intelligence became something that was en vogue and wanted and appreciated, and I don’t even know to whom we owe that shift.
That’s reminiscent of the conversation between Monk and his antagonist, Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), about how within the Black community certain narratives are perceived as dumbing down the culture.
That conversation encapsulates the thesis of the film. We need more than just those stories to have a full representation of who we are. For a long time, the idea in Hollywood was that those stories of triumph from poverty or imprisonment or enslavement were the only stories that would resound with a mainstream audience, and that seeing us in other slices of life would be mundane when they get to tell those stories all the time. The idea that a mainstream audience would not be able to see themselves in a protagonist that did not look like them is also being challenged because marginalized people have been asked to do that exact same thing forever. There’s no reason that the opposite shouldn’t hold true as well.
What does it say, then, that this film was made?
There’s the fact that it was made, but just as important, if not more important, is how well will it do? Is there an appetite, especially outside New York and Los Angeles, to see something that has real wit, real intelligence, real humor with Black folks front and center? I still don’t know the answer. In the past we’ve attempted to do things, and they’ve been met with a lukewarm reception. I’m hopeful that large audiences, not just Black or white, but everybody can see themselves in Monk’s shoes and say, “This is the kind of story that we would like to see more of.” You vote with your dollar.
Did you expect the film to receive the critical acclaim that it has?
I don’t know if I saw this coming. I knew that it was an exceptionally well-crafted story. I knew you had a beast of an actor holding it down in Mr. Jeffrey Wright. I knew that we had a great ensemble and wonderful producers to shepherd this thing through fruition, but that happens a lot of times, and then it just goes by the wayside. Nobody pays attention to it. I don’t ever make the mistake of equating critical and popular success with each other. They can overlap in the Venn diagram of success, but they are not the same thing.
American Fiction doesn’t necessarily resolve any of its conflicts. What’s your take on that? (Spoilers ahead!)
The ending is one of my favorite parts. The idea was that if Monk, as a creator, were left to his own devices without having to appease the Hollywood machine, he’d probably end it like this. But it’s not show art, it’s show business. Cord got a chance to show an ending that he felt would’ve been satisfactory and also an ending that he’d had to put forth in order to satisfy the machine at large, which is really hilarious. Cliff and Monk also leave together, and there’s a slave movie being shot on the set, so you see the actor in his slave garb. When they look at each other, Monk is able to have this wonderful sort of realization: I used to look down on you, and now we are looking eye to eye, because I understand. I think that is one of the most powerful and ingenious moments that Cord was able to find at the very end.
This story first appeared in the Jan. 10 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.
