On January 1, 2014 recreational marijuana was legalized in Colorado. Anyone who glanced at the news that day would have seen the lines outside dispensaries, the cannabis flags waving and the glassy-eyed pedestrians lighting up on public sidewalks. That celebratory day marked the long-awaited decriminalization of a drug whose greatest danger seemed to lie in its illegality. The subject received comprehensive coverage from Sanjay Gupta’s three-part “Weed” series to The Culture High, a feature-length documentary about government profit and control. In light of this ample press, another documentary would seem redundant. Thankfully, Rolling Papers is about more than just pot. Rather than simply cut between the politicians, talking heads and potheads we’ve seen before, director Mitch Dickman focuses on journalists assigned to cover the landmark legalization and its effects.
When The Denver Post hired Ricardo Baca as their first-ever “Weed Editor,” the media reacted in droves. Baca appeared on CNN, “The View” and “The Colbert Report,” where the king of satire declared, “A pot editor is just a gateway job to meth editor.” This is how Rolling Papers sets itself apart. Rather than explain how weed is grown, where it comes from or what differentiates one strain from the next, the film concentrates on Baca and the unique challenges of his new position.
The true drama begins when Baca settles into his desk and must build a digital hub, find content and generate an audience for all things weed. “If the site doesn’t perform,” he says, “it’ll get yanked.” It’s the dawn of legal marijuana as seen through the lens of contemporary journalism. It’s a smart pairing. We’ve canceled our newspaper subscriptions in exchange for smartphones and vape pens, and as our perception of marijuana evolves, journalism does too.
In one scene, Dickman follows Baca as he investigates a complaint about the quality of one company’s edibles. He visits the seller who made the charge, and she tells Baca, “The consistency and the integrity of the marijuana industry matters.” By capturing moments like these, Dickman shows how legalization represents the birth of a new industry that needs to be taken seriously. Baca orders lab tests on the company’s edibles, which claim 100 milligrams of THC but contain only 0.3 milligrams. When Baca confronts the company’s owner, he blames the problem on “stirring” and refutes Baca’s claims with, “Sensationalism sells newspapers.”
Baca builds his team at the Post by hiring weed critics Jake Browne and Brittany Driver. Browne is a nice guy with stubble on his chin and a preference for jeans and hoodies. After lighting a joint, he inhales and smacks his tongue, as if sucking up all the flavors it might deliver. Driver writes criticism too, but more importantly, she’s a parent, openly grappling with the dilemma of balancing pot-smoking with motherhood. As she kisses her two-year-old son on the forehead, she expresses a genuine fear of Child Protective Services. In one scene, Driver lights a joint after her son is put to bed. In the next, a fellow reporter at the Post tells Baca that Driver’s drug use made her uncomfortable. She says she used to cover child abuse and the perils of intoxication while parenting are not to be taken lightly.
The Denver Post’s weed staff also includes Ry Prichard, the man Rolling Stone deemed “the biggest weed nerd in town.” He’s the equivalent of an oenophile for pot, proving that weed expertise involves science, art and hard work. He’s also an ideal documentary subject, as loquacious as he is knowledgeable. He takes us into a growing room and explains how one write weed criticism in the first place. Discussing aromas, flavors and “residual nutrients,” he uses words like “dank,” “musty” and “electric.”
Dickman’s style of filmmaking is upbeat and always amusing, intercutting traditional documentary footage with bright and shiny odes to weed strains. Hip-hop music is laid over plump, green plants with names like “Death Pineapple” and “Super Lemon Haze.” The film’s open embrace of legalization is tempered by a few darker admissions, including the suicide of a Colorado teen who leapt to his death after eating a pot cookie.
Reflecting the inquisitiveness of Baca and his Spotlight-esque staff, Rolling Papers asks more questions that in answers. Is it okay to smoke pot if you have a kid? Can marijuana treat cancer? Why is Uruguay selling weed for $1 a gram? The documentary is full of good questions, and yet, for all its open-endedness, it remains overwhelmingly in favor of legalization. While treating decriminalization as a non-issue is a political choice in itself, the film could have benefitted from a few more perspectives. One montage of opposing viewpoints plays out like a parody of over-reaction. There must be at least a few people out there who disagree with legalization for reasons beyond paranoia. Their inclusion would have added depth to an already-successful documentary. That said, Rolling Papers is a smart and entertaining portrait of how journalists can and do cover legal marijuana. Ricardo Baca is no meth editor, but he’s a darn good weed one.