Cocaine Cowboys, 2006
This documentary follows the rise of the cocaine trade and the corresponding rise in horrifying violence in early 1980s Miami.
This was . . . pretty good.
The main credit that I have to give the film is for its very clear explanation of the series of events that led to Miami being such a hub of cocaine use and business. The interviews with those involved generate great, personal details and the film alternates smaller moments with a larger sense of how things played out.
Probably the most compelling aspect of the film comes in the form of testimony from Rivi Ayala, a Colombian cartel enforcer who ended up working for Griselda Blano, one of the most ruthless (and certainly one of the most bonkers) bosses. Rivi's actions--including the killing of a baby--are intense and shocking. As with anyone who had been involved in very illegal things, you have to take his account with a grain of salt, but it's not hard to believe that him being appalled at being asked to kill a group of children during a hit is a genuine reaction.
Something that the film touches on, but I wish it had been more forceful about, is how the existing power structures enabled a lot of what happened. The documentary touches on the scandal involving corrupt police officers, but gives the impression that these were just bad apples foolishly employed during a desperate spate of hiring.
I also always struggle with films like this, because some of the people in them seem so pleased with themselves. This especially applies to Mickey Munday and Jon Roberts, two men who imported and distributed drugs. They have this slightly indifferent, almost smarmy attitude that's just hard to handle. They admit that they did it for money, and they even admit that things were grisly and gruesome and awful. But at the same time there's this little smirk like they're proud to have been part of an adventure and weren't they clever? When you're looking at a picture of a dead baby it all starts to seem particularly gross.
I also feel as if there's a missed opportunity to include the voices of some of the Cuban people who lived through this time. Consistently, Cubans and Colombians are referred to as these invading monsters, often explicitly called "animals" or "not human." While there's no question that there was a huge influx of a criminal element, I was uncomfortable with what felt like painting a ton of people with the same brush.
An interesting look at a piece of modern American history, but missing a few elements for me to have truly loved it.