I am very shocked that there is not a single needle drop of “Old Town Road” anywhere in Concrete Cowboy. It would be extremely obvious, but also I feel fitting.
Concrete Cowboy, based on the novel Ghetto Cowboy by G. Neri is a movie that delves deep into an environment and culture I didn’t know existed, and a lot of people don’t. Black urban cowboys, rearing and training horses in North Philadelphia, have been around since before the age of automobiles and continue to have a small but distinct presence in the city. Similar organizations exist in other major cities throughout the United States, but it was Philadelphia’s Fletcher Street Urban Riding Club that caught the attention of director Ricky Staub, who subsequently brought the movie idea to producers Lee Daniels and Idris Elba. It’s a curious thing to shine a spotlight on and raise awareness to, and a curious story to go along with it.
Elba headlines the film as Harp, the rough and forthright man in charge of the riding club, living in a poor little home with a horse in the sitting room; but the story really belongs to Cole, played by Stranger Things’ Caleb McLaughlin, his delinquent and estranged teenage son sent to live with him from Detroit. For McLaughlin, the role represents his first foray into real adult cinema, and he brings a performance to match, one that carries the movie. Leaving far behind the fun, nerdy kid from his hit Netflix series, he plays the troubled young miscreant here with a searing honesty and palpable depth. There are certainly staples of the former-child-actor-transitioning-to-adult-roles vehicle to this part, such as drug use and copious swearing, but it’s absolutely right in context, McLaughlin illustrating terrifically the emotional and social place that Cole comes from, and the necessity of his growth in the influence of this troupe of well-meaning cowboys. In particular there’s a boy and his pet narrative weaved through this, as Cole ends up bonding with the most difficult horse in his fathers’ stable, a white colt called Boo. It’s a very traditional character arc, but one executed here with finesse and real meaning behind every advancement. The more comfortable Cole gets around Boo and in this unique company, the closer he is to its’ heritage, to finding purpose and belonging, and avoiding the pitfalls of drug dealing and petty crime that have largely consumed his friend Smush (Jharrel Jerome).
Cole is pulled in these two directions over the course of the movie, by Smush on the one hand who understands him, and by his father on the other who wants a more responsible life for the son he barely knows. There’s a need to reconnect with his dad, and the movie explores that relationship in some interesting ways. Outside of a couple scenes of confrontational or emotional reckoning, it’s something that’s kept almost in the background of the movie -Elba is in far less of it than the promotional material would have you believe. A lot of what Harp does that is most effective in improving that bond is through his cowboys as a unit -sitting around a campfire together talking about the history of black horsemen, standing together to reign in Boo, or hosting a rodeo. The more personal scenes between the two are great of course, Elba reminding us after Cats why he is actually a good actor. But the familial warmth of the Riding Club itself is as big a factor in their coming together as the personal moments they share, and that’s impressively unique for this kind of movie.
Lorraine Toussaint and Byron Bowers play a couple of these riders, but most are cast with actual Philadelphia cowboys making their acting debuts, including Ivannah Mercedes as a possible love interest for Cole, and Jamil Prattis as a handicapped trainer who actually has a pretty substantial role. Method Man is in the film as well, as a cop who used to ride with the Fletcher Street gang, now burdened as a kind of mediator between them and the city officials who want to shut them down. This and the other banal plot points and generally conventional direction of the film are its weakest aspects. While the relationships Cole cultivates with Boo and his father are presented in fresher ways, the overall compass of the film is still relatively standard, and the story has to work to really be interesting. The movie also struggles with its purpose, frequently feeling like a spotlight on one particular organization over a whole forgotten culture that exists in the margins of American urban centres. There’s also the fact that the book Concrete Cowboys is based on (and which frankly has a better title) was YA, and that shows through in the general pluckiness of the plot and the very teen-resonant major themes. But the movie feels like its’ trying too hard to be adult, aging up Cole for one, and really honing in on the grimness of the atmosphere of crime he finds himself comfortable in with Smush. These things don’t derail the film, but they do at times feel like if Free Willy had come with a drug dealing subplot.
As far as I can tell, this was Ricky Staub’s first feature, and it’s not bad, if his direction is a little stale. The fascinating world it presents is definitely worth exhibition and it takes a couple compelling new approaches to old character journeys. Elba is good, lending weight and legitimacy, but this is McLaughlins’ movie, and he proves more than up to the challenge for future starring roles. Concrete Cowboys is yet to pick up a distributor but I hope it finds one soon. There is a lot of love that was poured into it, as the end credits interviews with the Fletcher Street Club members show. There’s a legacy there that ought not be ignored; and as much as the film is a blatant plea to keep this club around, I can’t say it doesn’t demonstrate a good argument.
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