Before he read “Erasure,” Percival Everett’s satirical novel about Black representation in the publishing industry, Cord Jefferson had never really thought of himself as a movie director. He had hoped to direct for television — his writing credits include several episodes of “Master of None,” “The Good Place” and HBO’s “Watchmen,” for which he shared an Emmy in 2020 — but even that seemed like a stretch.
“I thought they might let me direct something that I helped write or create,” he said in a recent interview. “And even then it would be like Episode 4 of 10, not the pilot or the finale.”
Things changed in December 2020, when Jefferson, 41, picked up “Erasure” and became enchanted. The book, published in 2001, is the story of Thelonius Ellison, known as Monk, a disillusioned Black intellectual whose mocking attempt at writing a stereotypical “ghetto novel” becomes a straightforward best seller.
“Twenty pages in, I knew I had to write a film adaptation,” Jefferson said. “By the time I finished the book, I knew I had to direct it.”
“American Fiction,” his take on the novel — and feature film debut as both a writer and director — is in theaters Friday. It stars Jeffrey Wright as Monk, Issa Rae as a rival novelist and Tracee Ellis Ross and Sterling K. Brown as Monk’s siblings. In September, it won the top prize at the Toronto International Film Festival, a precursor for an Academy Awards nomination for best picture for the past 11 years.
Over lunch in the NoHo neighborhood of Manhattan, Jefferson, a former journalist and editor at Gawker, discussed his personal connection to Everett’s story, his adoration of the writer-director Nicole Holofcener and shedding tears in a pitch meeting. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.
What was it about the book that spoke to you?
There was so much. The most obvious is just the conversation that it’s having about the expectations of a Black artist in this country, what people want or think that Black art should be. That was a huge part of my life when I was still working in journalism. I wrote this article called “The Racism Beat,” which is very much about the expectation that Black journalists are just there to write about the bad things that happen to Black people and racism and violence.
But besides that, there are three siblings in the book, and I have two older siblings. And there’s an ailing parent in the book, and my mother passed of cancer in 2016, after two years of struggling. One of the siblings in the book is charged with caring for the parent because the other two are off doing their own thing, and that was the dynamic with us. My oldest brother shouldered that responsibility. He went about it stoically and never complained or anything, but I had this residual guilt over not being there.
From big things to small things, there was just all of this stuff that felt like it was speaking to me directly. I went to a college in Virginia called William & Mary, and there’s a reference to William & Mary in the novel. Nobody ever talks about William & Mary in pop culture! It just felt like somebody had written a gift specifically for me, like, “I made this for you.”
The parts about the expectations facing Black artists, did they match your own experience when you arrived in Hollywood?
Oh, definitely. I thought I was going to get there and it would be like, “Oh yeah, there’s a world of opportunity and we’re just going to write about whatever. The Black experience in America now includes everything, all the way up to being the president of the United States.” But there’s genres for “prestige Black projects”: slave overcoming adversity and escaping, Black civil rights activist overcoming white racism, inner-city gangland stuff, poverty and broken homes.
I’ll tell you a true story of something that happened to a friend that exemplifies this perfectly. She went into a meeting at this production company and they’re like, “What are you interested in writing?” She says, “I’m interested in romantic comedies, like ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ classic, generational, Nora Ephron comedies. I would also love to write a ’90s-style erotic thriller.” They’re like, “All right, great. We’ll come back to you later with some ideas.” About three hours later, they call her and say, “We’ve got this story about a blind slave who, thanks to a wealthy white benefactor, learns to play the piano and becomes a piano prodigy. Are you interested in this?”
Wow.
They see a Black person and they can’t see past that. I think there’s a lot of people who say, “Well, why would we hire you to write a rom-com? Why would we hire you to write an erotic thriller?” There’s an inability to think of us as having our own passions and our own complex existence outside of this very limited window of what they allow us to say about our lives. These are things that people of color have been talking about for a very long time. To me, the real spiritual ancestor for this project would be “Hollywood Shuffle” [Robert Townsend’s satire of Black representation in Hollywood, released in 1987].
That was a real foundational text for me when I was a kid. I loved that movie. I probably saw it before I was 10. It opened my eyes to this idea that you can talk about these things that are very serious but also have fun with them, that not only is it OK to laugh, you need to laugh because otherwise you’ll just be miserable all the time. It blew my mind wide open.
It’s funny because the two references I kept thinking about while watching your movie were “Hollywood Shuffle” and Nicole Holofcener, which is a cool combination.
Dude, love Nicole Holofcener. She’s a genius. I’m so happy you said that. To me, that’s the greatest compliment. I love her so much. I saw “Friends With Money” [2006] when it first came out, and I was just blown away. She’s a huge influence on me. She has such a subtle, deft hand with class dynamics. And I love her character work. I’m forgetting the one with Gandolfini and Julia Louis-Dreyfus …
“Enough Said.”
Yeah. I just feel like she has an attention to detail when it comes to how human beings actually interact and live their lives. What I set out to make with this movie was something that felt a little bit like life. To me, even in the most miserable times, I’ve always found ways to laugh and enjoy myself and time with my family and friends. There are all these things that buoy your spirits. I think it’s a disservice to the human experience to not reflect that. And that’s something Nicole Holofcener does really well. I think Noah Baumbach does, also. Spike Lee, Bong Joon Ho. All people who’ve inspired me over the years.
I wanted to ask you about something that happens toward the end of the film, which is this really interesting conversation between Monk and Sintara (Issa Rae) that raises the question of whether his distaste for her novel masks a distaste for a certain kind of Black person. In your mind, what do you think Monk’s relationship is with other Black people?
Something Jeffrey and I talked about the first time we met and that we agreed on instantly was we didn’t want this movie to be some Talented Tenth, respectability politics [expletive]. We didn’t want it to feel like we were finger wagging and saying, “This is the right way to be Black, and all you other people are doing it wrong.” Both of us knew the movie could not be that. So that scene was important because we didn’t want people to come away being like, “Oh, well, she’s the villain and he’s the hero.” There are no villains or heroes.
What I really like about that scene is I don’t really know who I agree with, ultimately. They both make interesting points. But I will say that when she says that line, “Potential is what people see when they think what’s in front of them isn’t good enough,” I think it’s the first time we see Monk confronted with the idea that he might be a little self-loathing, that he might have an internal problem with his Blackness. It’s one of the first times that we see him really get clammed up.
Do you think it’s directing now for you? Or will you go back to writing television?
I’m working on four different movies right now and I want to keep writing and directing movies, but I also want to do TV. I published a short story last year, and I’d love to do more of that. I’m about 60 percent done with a stage play. I just want to keep making stuff.
When T Street [a producer of “American Fiction”] told me that they were greenlighting the movie, I started crying in the meeting. I had been told no for so long. I’d worked on all these things that just sort of went nowhere. It starts to break your heart eventually. You wonder, “Is this ever going to happen for me? Or is this just going to be a thing that I wanted to do my whole life?” The fact that I was able to crack the door a little bit to make this. … I feel incredibly honored.