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

If the story of the Cornbread Mafia wasn’t true, you might think it was something the Coen Bros dreamed up. The lesser-known tale of a motley crew of “dirty poor farmers” from Kentucky who grew into “the largest domestic marijuana operation in the US” fits well with the popularity of Raising Arizona again O Brother, Where are you? about illegal power and Southern humor.

From the jump, documentarians Evan Mascagni and Drew Morris present the criminal organization with a hilariously infamous name. The Cornbread Mafia it begins in the green fields, where brothers Joe Keith Bickett and Jimmy Bickett get into a truck with a bed full of marijuana. Joe introduces himself and his brother via text, but fumbles with his delivery. So, they will do something else… when someone’s cell phone will ring, interrupting Joe’s walk.

It’s a funny opening that gives the audience permission to laugh along with the Bickett brothers as their selfish story is revealed. But more than that, by drawing attention to the artistry inherent in filmmaking, Mascagni and Morris offer a subtle disclaimer that every story is shaped by its narrator. What you see here may not be the whole truth – but it is the truth according to the Cornbread Mafia. And that fact is extremely exciting, while also providing strong food for thought.

The Cornbread Mafia it’s a gangster story with a sense of humor.

In telling interviews, the documentarians sit down with the Bicketts, dozens of their infamous associates, and even the occasional lawyer to reconstruct the history of the Cornbread Mafia. Their stories are funny and whimsical, involving car chases, tiger cubs, tiger cubs, and a cute companion named Susie, who is introduced with a shrill, “I think mice should die.”

You see, the Cornbread Mafia is not just a name. They drew inspiration for how they operated from the Italian mob concept of omertà – meaning a code of honor and peace that favored the public over the police. This mafia started in the 1970s as a group of farmers who bought pitiful dime bags of pot in Mexico, until they did the math. A bag of marijuana cost $30, and a pound of tobacco was $1.50. So, picking seeds from their purchased dime bags seemed like an inevitable move to grow wealth easily.

Don’t miss our latest news: Add Mashable as a trusted news source on Google.

The next step was to find a way to develop a strain of weed that would give them the biggest bang for their buck. Enter Johnny Boone, whose sharp mind not only expanded their operations across the country, hiding their crops in cornfields, but also led to the creation of the Kentucky Bluegrass strain of marijuana.

Like any decent gang story, The Cornbread Mafia chart the tragic highs and tragic lows of their journey, from refugees to human heroes. Onward, then, to today’s politics, judicial hypocrisy, and life-changing activism. But the filmmakers never let the big titles dampen the fun of being with (or around) the Cornbread Mafia.

The Cornbread Mafia uses cartoons and Boyd Holbrook for educational value and humor.

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

Your cartoons are both vaguely ’70s Schoolhouse Rock to hear. Brightly colored pie charts illustrate a tricky point about consumer demographics, while animated versions of Bicketts and Boone skedaddle from the colorful truck cops. Then, to smooth transitions between conversations or give context to graphs, the whiskey-smooth voice of Boyd Holbrook serves as narrator.

Now, some may laugh at how this cartoonish approach reduces the criminality of mafia activities. Like potheads with bobble heads, they seem more like Scooby’s gang than Scarface. But that’s exactly the point. The Cornbread Mafia it regards its subjects as lawless, but does not condemn them for their crimes. Instead, the doc gives these farmers a chance to express how they built an industry despite the poverty that threatens to suffocate their entire town. Like the bootleggers or moonshiners of their forefathers (in some cases literally), they use their wits, their resources, and their friends to make a fortune that can take care of them all. And it did until the Feds stepped in with a calculation in the form of mandatory minimums.

Since then, The Cornbread Mafia examines sentencing laws that treat non-violent drug offenses at the same level of punishment as repeat murder. (Sadly, this is not a fictional story, but a sad true story related to the story of the Cornbread Mafia.) However, because the film shows its subjects the lust for life and devil-may-care power, The Cornbread Mafia it does not carefully tread the legitimate march through history, politics, and opposing views. This is a hot dance of a documentary.

Animation, witty voiceovers, and interesting dialogue challenge the narrative that drug dealers are bad guys, portraying these good guys as violent rebels. Like the human criminals who came before them, they are treacherous lawbreakers who instill fear, jealousy, and anger. Again The Cornbread Mafia it does well by welcoming its audience into the lap of that illegitimate American heritage.

Simply put, The Cornbread Mafia a gripping true-crime doc that offers a fresh take on familiar talking heads, strong re-enactments, and voiceovers that rely on the smiling charms of its subjects. They are not made to explain themselves, but are invited to share their stories. And they do it with joy and intoxicating frankness. The Cornbread Mafia not only is it eye-opening and provocative; it’s also a lot of fun.

The Cornbread Mafia reviewed outside of SXSW.