Cocaine Cowboys

Before the cocaine economy, Miami was a sleepy seaside hamlet, a “virgin city” with a permeable border and largely unprotected coastline. Bales of Colombian pot from the Medellín cartel materialized on the beach in secret spots, and small-timers like Jon Roberts sold them. One day a shipment arrived with a bonus bag of coke inside, and Miami was born. Roberts dealt so much coke to the city’s white-collar professional class and its esteemed visitors (including the front line of the Pittsburgh Steelers, just before their 1979 Super Bowl win) that he had to bury cash in his yard for lack of a better place to put it – besides spending it on racehorses, real estate, cars, a contribution to the Republican Party (accepted), and Panamanian bank accounts. Then came “the first public shot in the cocaine wars” – the murder of two bystanders at Dadeland Mall in a drug-related submachine shoot-out – and bloody battles between Cuban and Colombian gangs on Floridian shores. Corben’s second documentary (after 2001’s Raw Deal: A Question of Consent) leaves no stone unturned, and Roberts – the chief interviewee – is a likable, frank presence. There’s a bit of a structural hitch in the third act as the film turns to Jorge “Rivi” Ayala, a hitman for ruthless gang queen Griselda Blanco – “the godmother of the cocaine trade,” who ordered the Dadeland shootings – but the charming, smiling assassin makes an impression. Less effective is the film’s antic Miami Vice motif, which, for better or worse, extends to dramatic re-creations and a Jan Hammer soundtrack. The story sells itself without such frippery; it’s probably better-suited to a low-key Elmore Leonard approach than a neon-lit Michael Mann approach. Some of the best moments come from retired crime reporter and mystery writer Edna Buchanan, who explicitly connects Miami’s growth and glamour to its drug money. “How many people have to die for a shiny skyline?” Buchanan asks, as Corben’s camera swoops around skyscrapers and tower cranes.