Intermittently powerful, all-too-familiar social-problem realism and maudlin melodrama, "Cornbread, Earl and Me" is, either way, a melancholic affair. The overwrought histrionics, overly-optimistic resolution, and some poor acting are especially unfortunate given how moving the best scenes are here. The rainy killing by policemen and subsequent attack on those murderous officers by the neighborhood is a strong scene--ever more shockingly so as it comes after a dull first act. Moreover, it's well foreshadowed by prior unlawful actions by the cops in harassing and unwarranted searching of suspected criminals. The subsequent intimidation of witnesses leading up to the courtroom conclusion is in way familiarly spot on, too, as the police department and city officials close ranks to obstruct justice and protect their own, but it also often veers over-the-top, as does much of the rest of the picture.
Rather surprisingly given that they cast would-be NBA Hall-of-Famer Jamaal Wilkes that the basketball scenes, or single brief montage rather, are scant and unimpressive. It seems evident he wasn't cast for his acting abilities, after all, and is in good company there with other sports legends. (Not everyone is as fortunate as Wilkes's Lakers teammate Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, to be memorably cast in "Airplane!" (1980), and some face the far more reprehensible fate of appearing in a "Space Jam" burger (1996 and 2021).) The gee-wiz simplistic saintliness of Wilkes's "Cornbread" is of eye-rolling annoyance. And, those poor neighbors putting up with his dribbling a basketball in his flat on his way to an athletic scholarship. Either that apartment building was constructed with some of the best in sound-proofing floor and walls or those neighbors are unsung heroes.
Laurence Fishburne also made his debut here, and evidently he could act even as a child, or at least it seems that way by comparison to the actress, Rosalind Cash, playing his mother, who is the most prominent offender here of some very poor, soap-opera levels of acting (and, indeed, Cash's career ended with a role on daytime soap "General Hospital"). They should've cut the candy bar theft scene that results in her ridiculously weeping over her kid stealing 15 cents worth of merchandise. I get the point of the scene--everyone gets the obvious intent of it--to establish Wilford's, the "Me" protagonist of the title, maturing sense of ethics, but there are better ways to accomplish as much without constantly hitting the audience over the head with the cinematic equivalent of a sledge hammer. Perhaps, this is a product of its era, as much of the representation of African Americans on screen was in blaxploitation flicks, so subtlety doesn't seem to have been valued much, but this material was and is still is socially-relevant and powerful enough to do without the dramatic cop-outs.
Rather surprisingly given that they cast would-be NBA Hall-of-Famer Jamaal Wilkes that the basketball scenes, or single brief montage rather, are scant and unimpressive. It seems evident he wasn't cast for his acting abilities, after all, and is in good company there with other sports legends. (Not everyone is as fortunate as Wilkes's Lakers teammate Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, to be memorably cast in "Airplane!" (1980), and some face the far more reprehensible fate of appearing in a "Space Jam" burger (1996 and 2021).) The gee-wiz simplistic saintliness of Wilkes's "Cornbread" is of eye-rolling annoyance. And, those poor neighbors putting up with his dribbling a basketball in his flat on his way to an athletic scholarship. Either that apartment building was constructed with some of the best in sound-proofing floor and walls or those neighbors are unsung heroes.
Laurence Fishburne also made his debut here, and evidently he could act even as a child, or at least it seems that way by comparison to the actress, Rosalind Cash, playing his mother, who is the most prominent offender here of some very poor, soap-opera levels of acting (and, indeed, Cash's career ended with a role on daytime soap "General Hospital"). They should've cut the candy bar theft scene that results in her ridiculously weeping over her kid stealing 15 cents worth of merchandise. I get the point of the scene--everyone gets the obvious intent of it--to establish Wilford's, the "Me" protagonist of the title, maturing sense of ethics, but there are better ways to accomplish as much without constantly hitting the audience over the head with the cinematic equivalent of a sledge hammer. Perhaps, this is a product of its era, as much of the representation of African Americans on screen was in blaxploitation flicks, so subtlety doesn't seem to have been valued much, but this material was and is still is socially-relevant and powerful enough to do without the dramatic cop-outs.