“I’m honored you’d choose me out of all the black writers you could go to out of fear of being called racist.”

Mike’s Rating: 10 out of 10 white guilt points (which can be traded in for invites to the cookout).

Mike’s Review: As I was growing up in the 90’s and early 2000s, there were a slew of excellent movies meant to shine a light on the reality of the Black experience in inner cities. Starting with Do the Right Thing, and carrying through films like Boyz in the Hood, Menace 2 Society, and Juice, these movies were a revelation of the reality experienced by urban African American youth in that time.

But, like every honest and sincere idea that experienced even a small nugget of success, Hollywood capitalized, profited, and shamelessly pandered until all proceeding films and stories became parodies of the very message they were intended to convey. 

This is the reality that erudite professor and author Thelonious “Monk” Ellison finds himself in as he struggles to write his next book. He loathes the public’s embrace of mediocre “urban nightmare” stories and resents his own lack of demand for his more cerebral outings. Thus, he carries a substantial chip on his shoulder about it.

In extreme frustration one night, Monk writes “My Pafology,” an offensive and stereotypical “ghetto” story, replete with violence, drugs, absentee fathers, and broken English. He submits it to his publisher under the pseudonym Stagg R. Leigh, more as a middle finger to the publishing world than anything else.

He does all of this only to have his worst assumptions about the industry — as well as all the well-meaning trauma-addicted white people inhabiting it — confirmed when his work not only gets published but skyrockets to success in a way his more personal work has always failed to do.

Suddenly, Monk finds himself receiving awards and negotiating movie deals while pretending to be Stagg, a profane and uneducated supposed escaped convict wanted by the FBI. When he finds himself on a judging panel for a prestigious literary award in which “Stagg’s” book is an entry, Monk’s realities start to converge in a way he’s not necessarily comfortable with.

Meanwhile Monk has to navigate several drastic changes to his life as he begins a relationship with neighbor Coraline (Erika Alexander) and some drastic life changes in his estranged family demand more and more of his attention.

There are two distinct movies playing out here, one is a bitingly satirical and consistently hilarious send-up of the American entertainment industry and its relationship with black creators. The other is a heartfelt and poignant story about healing and family.

As the connecting thread, Jeffery Wright navigates these waters expertly in a self-realized, confident, and vulnerable performance. Monk is charming, but, tell the truth and shame the devil, kind of an ass. He carries himself with all the arrogance of a smug educated elitist, he vents his considerable frustrations on undeserving people, and he seems to have nothing but distaste for the lowest common denominator, who to his horror, become his bread and butter. Then he turns around and also shows the occasional hint of extreme hurt and vulnerability under his facade of exasperated irritation, and you can’t help but root for him throughout.

Monk’s interactions with his siblings (Tracy Ellis Ross and Sterling Brown, who are having a blast delivering some truly great dialog) are a highlight of the film, acted beautifully and always conveying love in addition to years of built-up resentment. Issa Rae, always a delight, has a small part as an rival and contemporary of Monk’s who at first seems to be hypocritically pandering with her book, the hilariously titled “We’s Lives In Da Ghetto.” Later she proves to be a more thoughtful and conscientious author, who much to Monk’s relief, find “Stagg’s” work to be the pandering slop that he knows it to be.

This is one of the smartest and funniest movies in recent memory. The meta-narrative here is layers upon layers, and you’ll want to watch it more than once for any missed metaphors or social commentary you might not have picked up on. The audience is meant to compare and contrast the two storylines, as in one plot we’re watching an educated black professor dumbing himself down to make his work palatable to the masses. In the other, we’re watching a definitively black story of a successful but dysfunctional family dealing with loss, generational trauma, and identity.

The audience is meant to look at this second narrative and recognize that while this honest, heartfelt, and relatable treatise on generational trauma, grief, and enduring love is emotionally resonant and just might make you cry, it would never be sold to a mass audience as “black” entertainment.

Intermission!

Arthur: Nobody in Hollywood reads. They get their assistants to read things and then summarize them. The whole town runs on book reports.

Sintara Golden: I don’t need to write about my life. I write about what interests people.
Thelonious ‘Monk’ Ellison: You write what interests white publishers fiending Black trauma porn.

Ailene Hoover: [while voting down the only two Black authors on a literary award judging panel] You know, it’s not just that it’s so affecting, I just think it’s essential to listen to Black voices right now.

Coraline: One day maybe you’ll learn that not being able to relate to other people isn’t a badge of honor.

Arthur: White people think they want the truth, but they don’t. They want to feel absolved.