‘Cornbread Mafia’ review: True crime meets stoner comedy in this outrageous documentary

If the Cornbread Mafia story weren’t true, you might think it was something the Coen Brothers dreamed up. The even stranger than fiction story of a group of “dirt-poor dirt farmers” from Kentucky growing into “the largest domestic marijuana operation in America” ​​fits in well with people like these. Arizona’s rise And O Brother, Where Art Thou? In terms of outlaw energy and southern-fried comedy.

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From the beginning, documentarians Evan Mascagni and Drew Morris introduce the eponymous criminal organization with a disarming sense of humor. Cornbread Mafia It begins on a lush farm, where brothers Joe Keith Bickett and Jimmy Bickett arrive in a pick-up truck with a bed full of marijuana. Joe introduces himself and his brother from a script, but messes up his presentation. So, they’ll do another take… in which someone’s cell phone rings, interrupting Joe’s flow.

It’s an entertaining opening that allows the audience to laugh along with the Bickett brothers as their adventurous story unfolds. But more than that, by drawing attention to the artifice that exists within documentary filmmaking, Mascagni and Morris offer a subtle disclaimer that every story is shaped by its teller. What you see here may not be the whole truth – but according to the Cornbread Mafia it is. And that truth is highly entertaining, while also providing some solid food for thought.

Cornbread Mafia is a gangster story with a comic air.

In talking-head interviews, the documentary filmmakers sit down with Bicketts, a wide range of his notorious associates, and even the occasional lawman to reconstruct the history of the Cornbread Mafia. Their stories are hilarious and entertaining, involving car chases, robberies with half-cocks, tiger cubs, and a beautiful sidekick named Susie, who is introduced in non-sequiturs with the roaring, “I think rats should die.”

Look, Cornbread Mafia isn’t just a name. He took inspiration from the Italian mob’s concept of omerta – meaning a code of respect and silence that favors the community rather than going to the police. This mafia started in the 1970s as a group of farmers who bought miserable dime bags of pot from Mexico before they could do the math. The price of a bag of marijuana was $30, while a pound of tobacco was $1.50. So, picking seeds from their purchased dime bags seemed an almost inevitable step towards growing wealth quite easily.

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The next task was to figure out how to develop a strain of weed that would provide the most benefits for their growing bucks. Enter Johnny Boone, whose sharp mind not only expanded his operation across the country, hiding his crops in corn fields, but also led to the creation of the marijuana strain Kentucky Bluegrass.

Like any gangster story worth its salt, Cornbread Mafia Shows the heady highs and lows of his journey from fugitives to folk heroes. Then, it moves into contemporary politics, judicial hypocrisy, and life-changing activism. Yet the filmmakers never let the big themes dampen the fun of being in (or near) the Cornbread Mafia.

Cornbread Mafia Uses animation and Boyd Holbrook for educational value and whimsy.

Rather than employing actors for reenactments, Mascagni and Morris use animation to illustrate these larger-than-life stories, as well as complex explanations about the American justice system and the war on drugs.

Both have vaguely ’70s vibes schoolhouse rock feel. Brightly colored pie charts illustrate a cheeky point about buyer demographics, while cartoon versions of Bicketts and Boone escape from the police in a colorful pick-up truck. Then, Boyd Holbrook’s whiskey-smooth voice acts as narrator, slyly transitioning between interviews or giving context to graphs.

Now, some may sneer at how this animated approach minimizes the criminality of the Mafia’s actions. As dwarf-headed potheads, they seem more like the Scooby Gang than Scarface. But that’s exactly the point. Cornbread Mafia Treats its subjects as outlaws, but it does not condemn them for their crimes. Instead, the document gives these producers space to express how they created an industry despite poverty that threatened to overwhelm their entire town. Like the bootleggers or moonshiners who were their ancestors (in some cases literally), they used their wits, their resources, and their friends to build a fortune that could take care of them all. And that was until the Fed started calculating that as a mandatory minimum.

from there, Cornbread Mafia Explores sentencing laws that treat non-violent drug crimes with the same punishment as double murder. (Sadly, this is not a work of fiction, but a tragic true story involving the saga of the Cornbread Mafia.) However, because the film reflects its subjects’ lust for life and devil-may-care energy, Cornbread Mafia It does not proceed cautiously in a formal march through history, politics, and opposing views. This is an explosive dance of a documentary.

The cartoons, gentle voices and lively interviews challenge the narrative that drug dealers are bad guys, presenting these good old boys as rebels with wild instincts. Like the folk hero outlaws who came before them, they are elusive rule-breakers who inspire fear, jealousy, and resentment. And Cornbread Mafia They’ve got it right by welcoming their audiences into the thrill of that outlaw American heritage.

Simply put, Cornbread Mafia is a sensational true crime doc that gives fresh zest to standard talking heads, harsh reenactments and voiceovers by leaning into the crooked-smiling charm of its subjects. They are not meant to explain themselves, but are invited to share their stories. And they do so with a joy and clarity that is intoxicating. Cornbread Mafia Not just eye-opening and stimulating; It’s also a lot of fun.

Cornbread Mafia Reviewed from SXSW.



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