Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Ricky Staub
Starring: Caleb McLaughlin, Idris Elba, Jamil
Prattis, Jharrel Jerome, Byron Bowers, Lorraine Toussaint, Clifford Smith
Following
The Rider,
Lean on Pete
and
The Mustang, director Ricky Staub's Concrete Cowboy is
another story of a troubled male bonding with a horse. The difference
here is that Staub's film isn't set on the prairies of the American
West, but rather in the streets of urban Philadelphia.
It's in one of these streets that 17-year-old tearaway Cole (Caleb McLaughlin) is dumped by his mother. Having lost patience with his troublesome
ways, Cole's mom has driven him from Detroit to spend the summer with
his estranged father, Harp (Idris Elba). Harp belongs to the
Fletcher Street crew, a group of urban African-American cowboys (and
cowgirls) who run a stable on an urban block, taking care of horses and
racing them at local community events.
We soon learn that the stables have had a positive impact on the local
community, keeping young men away from the temptations of drugs and
crime. Despite Harp's attempts to keep his boy busy shoveling horse
manure all day, Cole succumbs to such temptations when he is reunited
with childhood friend Smush (Jharrel Jerome), now a drug dealer
with ambitions that make him a target of rival gangs.
Despite its unique setting, Concrete Cowboy trots a
well-worn course. There are few surprises in this story, as Staub and
co-screenwriter Dan Walser tick off a checklist of coming of age
in tough circumstances tropes, recalling everything from
The Karate Kid to Boyz n the Hood. Cole's bonding with a wild horse never quite achieves the emotional
impact of the same scenario in the three movies I mentioned above, and
his troubled relationship with his father rarely feels genuine, reduced
to a couple of thinly written speeches on the latter's part. Given
Elba's top-billing, it's surprising how sidelined he is here. As a
result, Harp comes across as colder and crueller towards his boy than I
suspect the movie would like.
Staub peppers his supporting cast with the real life cowboys and
cowgirls of Fletcher Street, and the movie works best when we're just
watching them pound a few beers and shoot the shit around campfires. The
movie's best performance comes not from its headline British star but
from Jamil Prattis, playing a version of himself, who left behind
a life of crime that ultimately put him in a wheelchair for life and who
has since found redemption in the Fletcher Street stables. When Prattis
and the other real life Philly residents are given centre stage, you
can't help but wish Staub had opted for a Chloé Zhao approach and
centred his entire movie around them. As it is,
Concrete Cowboy is a formulaic urban story occasionally
enlivened by the texture gifted by its amateur but authentic supporting
cast.
