American Fiction

And Everything Looks Worse in Black and White

or

"The Dumber I Behave, The Richer I Get!"

"It's Why My Parents Moved Here from Puerto Rico!"

 

One of the films selected for the National Film Registry last year was Spike Lee's 2000 film Bamboozled, which had its African-American television writer protagonist—after being told his material wasn't "black" enough—write a television pilot that is so racist (entitled "Mantan: The New Millennium Minstrel Show"), that he is taken aback when the show is accepted by his network and, when aired, becomes a big hit. Taking a script-page from Paddy Chayevsky's Network, where a middle-aged newscaster has a breakdown on television only to see the ratings go up and his network play up his insanity, Bamboozled takes a look at how extreme stereotypes in the form of entertainment—whether it's "Amos n' Andy" or gangsta videos or just satirical in its intent—can be equal in their power to reinforce prejudices, and even if the people getting paid to make the stuff are of that same minority. It says simultaneously that mass-entertainment appeals to the lowest common denominator, and that a conscienceless pursuit of money and prestige is a form of back-stabbing. It seems pretty obvious—did the popular "All in the Family" promote racism? Why are African-American television shows mostly comedies? Just because a minority is "represented" on a television show, does it have pander? The old "Candid Camera" had a line in its theme song that said "It's fun to laugh at ourselves." It never mentions that most people would rather laugh at others.

Or, "The Other." So, here we have American Fiction (based on the 2001 novel "Erasure" by Percival Everett) that does basically the same thing with a similar plot, but instead of being a blistering satire on the subject pushing the bounds of credulity, it feels all too real. Instead of a rant, it's a melancholic, ironic meditation. Sure, it's still satire, but instead of outrage, it produces an chagrined "Yeah, probably..."

Which is fine, especially when you have Jeffrey Wright doing the chagrinning. He plays Thelonious Ellison (call him "Monk"—everybody else does), a literature professor and author, whose books are still in print but also still on most store shelves. He writes great stuff, just not stuff that sells. After a classroom incident involving a particular Flannery O'Connor title ("With all due respect...'Brittany'...I got over it. You should be able to."), it's suggested that he take a breather for awhile and let things settle down. Fortuitously, his agent—who's a little lukewarm to his new book being a modern take on Aeschylus—suggests he go to a Book Festival in Boston for a panel discussion. "I hate Boston. My family's there," grouses Monk. But, he goes. The panel is less than rewarding. And considerably less than standing room only.

But, another panel is packed. Curious, Monk walks in to a discussion by author Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), author of the new best-seller "We's Lives in Da Ghetto" and is a bit dumbfounded when a reading from the book is all ebonics and 'hood-slang, greeted adoringly by the mostly-white audience for "giving voice to the African-American experience." He gets the same expression on his face that I get when I see good directors aspiring to make B-movie grinders.

Then, it's off to visit his family. He's picked up by his Sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), who works at a reproductive clinic and it's not as bad as all that. She admonishes him for not keeping in touch ("Everybody's busy. You drift away.") and they spend in the family home, still occupied by her and their mother, Agnes (Leslie Uggams), who is fading away to Alzheimer's—she has her "good" days and her "she's not there" days—and Lisa's the one doing the caretaking...because "the boys"—Monk and his L.A. based plastic surgeon brother Clifford (Sterling K. Brown)—aren't there and "let it happen." Monk promises to be more in touch, and the circumstances dictate that it happens.

But, Mom needs more care and that's expensive. So, one night Monk, in an alcoholic funk, sits down and starts to write. He calls it "My Pafology" under the nom de plume "Stagg R. Leigh" and—as Mario Puzo said about "The Godfather"—he "writes below his gifts" churning out a story about drugs and errant fathers and violence, always in the back of his mind thinking that he's writing a screed-parody and nobody'd touch it.

Wrong. He gets an advance of $750,000. His agent (John Ortiz) is ecstatic—it's a hot property and Hollywood is already circling around to buy the rights. Really? It was supposed to be a joke, a parody, a protest...but this gets bought?...and bought big? But, the publishers want to know who "Stagg R. Leigh" is, and Monk and his agent have to come up with a story of why the author doesn't want to meet them. They come up with the idea that "Leigh" is a fugitive from justice—the idea of which makes the book so much "authentic", so much more "real" (when it's anything but!).

American Fiction is lovely. Funny, bitter, with a protagonist who's a bit of a jerk (and never really loses that quality), but learns that he is that way and can get better. In that way, he's a bit like his reading audience—yeah, it's really too bad about slavery and "the black experience" and all, but, maybe, I can be better by "embracing" the African-American voice (or as another character says "white people think they want the truth, but they just want to be absolved."). That is, if we want to set it down in monolithic black and white.

This is Cord Jefferson's first feature as writer and director (he's previously worked on HBO's "Watchmen" and "Station Eleven" series) and the writing is sharp, clever and well-considered. It's also, in places, damned funny and he knows how to make an ironic point without painting it in neon. That he's cast it so faultlessly probably made the job easier. Wright, as he always is, is the best—without being a poser about it—and it's nice to see him finally carrying the weight of a movie, instead of merely buttressing it. Plus, Leslie Uggams—who everybody knows is a very fine actress—finally gets another part to shine in, and Sterling K. Brown manages to make Monk's prodigal brother a best worst sibling in the world.

Very impressive for a first feature. And it's way-past time that Wright was top-lined in a project. But...you know progress, even when it's such a sure thing, always seems to take too long. But, this is a good project for him, fitting right in with his ability to make you feel like you could meet this guy on the street. It's light satire, nerf parody, that doesn't make you feel so bad even if you're in on the joke...and maybe part of it. Maybe it is fun to laugh at yourself.

Deadpool

*Blam* Bad Deadpool! *Blam* (Uh!) GOOD Deadpool!
or
Taking the Hero Out of Super-Hero and Putting the Meta Into Meta-Human

From the generic credited Main Title, crafted like one of those Avengers-ending still-life's littered with in-jokes, Deadpool hits the ground kicking the tropes and biting the superhero genre that feeds it.

And thank God. The whole super-hero "thing" has started becoming stale and musty of late and Deadpool clears the cob-webs away...with a machine-pistol.

Maybe you don't remember Deadpool. In the comics, he was created by Marvel artist Rob ("I can't draw feet") Liefield to be as lethal as Wolverine and as chatty as Spider-Man. The one thing that made Deadpool unique (qualifier, DC had an earlier character named "Ambush Bug" that does this, too) in the Marvel Universe is that Deadpool is aware that he is a fictional super-hero in a comic book. He was a mutant, a mercenary and he was a bit insane. He has appeared in movies before—as played by Ryan Reynolds in the weak Wolverine: Origins, where he looked like this: 

That's right, they sewed his mouth shut. Now, since Deadpool is known in the comics as "The Merc with the Mouth" why didn't he have one in W:O? Probably because the character is supposed to be insane and funny and that would have stolen the movie away from the star-character and ripped the franchise right out from under Hugh Jackman's feet. We could not have that, so DP got zippered. Bad Deadpool.

But, Ryan Reynolds wasn't happy. He was unhappy enough that he was determined to make a fully-throated Deadpool feature, and since Wolverine: Origins was no one's idea of a good movie, nothing really stood in his way.

Except, of course, for time and money. Reynolds worked with script-writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick (of Zombieland) to come up with a rollicking script, more in keeping with what he had in mind, truer to the fourth-wall-exploding, incorrigible Deadpool of the comics, all of which seemed beyond the imaginations of the studio execs at Fox, whose super-hero experience had more to do with the stolid X-men movies and the egregious Fantastic 4 film (and their man-handling of that project revealed that their view was so narrow-minded and cookie-cutter as to be self-destructive). Bad Fox.

The final impediment to the project—demand—was taken care of when leaked test footage of what the producing team had in mind was released to the internet, and the fan-boy whoops could be heard and taken seriously enough to invest in a feature. The result was your standard super-hero movie, with its insistence on a "By Hrothgar's Hammer, I shall be revenged!" plot and a loosening of the moral hand-cuffs (which most of these movies have experimented with, anyway) to make Deadpool a complete anti-hero. The difference is the tone, which feels more like an action movie starring Jim Carrey in full antic (which would be The Mask, actually, but sped up about 150%).

Wade Wilson (Reynolds) is a slightly unhinged mercenary-for-hire with mad skills and no filters. He meets his potential damsel-in-distress, Vanessa (Morena Baccarin—who I've always suspected would have been Joss Whedon's Wonder Woman if that project had come to fruition) and they have an idyllic, if randy, year before Wade finds out he has terminal cancer ("Cancer's only in my liver, lungs, prostate, and brain. All things I can live without"). Vanessa wants to fight it, but Wade is just as determined that she doesn't have to suffer through it with him, so he skips out.

He probably should have stayed. In a desperate attempt to stay alive and go back to Vanessa, he is offered a devil's deal: given his mercenary instincts, he is approached by a clandestine organization that offers him a cure, but also, a bit of an improvement—turning him into a mutant. But, getting there amounts to inhuman torture and Wade emerges from the forced treatment with a pulped face and an undying rage—the "improvement" being the ability to heal from any wound, no matter how severe, —and the intent to kill anyone associated with his procedure, focusing on the mutant in charge of the operation, a sadistic brute named Frances (Ed Skrein).

Frances?  Frances!?

The term "berserker" is the best term for Deadpool. The movie's opening sequence has him in the middle of a curiously abandoned freeway (following a multi-vehicle smash-up that he initiated) attacking a gaggle of Frances' goons with only 12 bullets in his arsenal. He makes every bullet count, as he counts, mouthing sporadic one-liner non-sequitirs to taunt and distract the bad-guys, while amusing the audience (and himself). It is only the intervention of X-Men Colossus (CGI'd and voiced by Stefan Kapicic) and Negasonic Teenage Warhead (no, really, that's a real superhero name and she's played by Brianna Hildebrand) that stops him from decimating every single bad guy within several miles of empty city highway. They want to "reform" Deadpool by taking him back to Mutant Academy to meet with Professor "X" ("McAvoy or Stewart?" is Deadpool's reply).

From there, the movie pretty much runs the well-entrenched path of super-hero movies—revenge and redemption, which it does not take seriously at all. Nor should it. Something entrenched is in a rut. Comics (or should I say "graphic literature") are selling less than ever, at the same time that it seems to also want to be taken seriously and profoundly. This is reflected in movies made from comics sources, which started out wonderfully wicked in their debuts and then turn inert and careful by the sequel. You can take chances on the first one—and if it's successful, well, profits have to be taken seriously. Risks are fewer when it involves money.

And movies are duller. Deadpool is not dull, not for any stretch (well, except for the drawn-out mutation process scenes because the villains aren't entertaining...at all), and although the overall arc is much the same as any superhero movie, it's unrelenting goofiness at it's (and everything else's) expense feels like a tonic. In much the same way as Guardians of the Galaxy knew it was treading a lighter path and did a bit more stirring of ingredients in order to get the mix of grim n' gritty and comedy right, Deadpool throws in more nuts. And chops them. A lot.

As for "g n' g", Deadpool is very, very violent and is rated "R" for its splattering heads and severed limbs and constant "F"-bombing—it's certainly more violent that The Hateful 8. "So, Mr. Inconsistency, why hate on "our boy" QT and like this movie?" Because this has a sense of humor and The Hateful 8 doesn't. TH8 only thinks it has a sense of humor, but it's only actually a sense of outrageousness. They're not the same thing. Outrageousness can be funny if its satiric, but there's no satire in TH8. It doesn't want to make a point, it just wants to be outrageous, ("man"). Deadpool takes nothing seriously, but The Hateful 8 makes the mistake of thinking itself profound, like so much post modern pop culture does these days. Deadpool is clever. The Hateful 8 only thinks it is.

The fan-boys out there are ecstatic because they "finally" have an "R"-rated movie based on a comic book (quite forgetting American Splendor (which they never read), Watchmen, 300, Road to Perdition, Blade, and the Sin City movies). Deadpool will also appeal to those with ADHD and generally short attention spans.*

I plead guilty, as well. I laughed. I laughed a lot. GOOD Deadpool.

 

* There's even a line about that: "Right now your date is saying 'My boy-friend told me this was a superhero movie, but this asshole just turned this bad guy into a kebab.' Surprise, this is a different kind of superhero movie."