“Concrete Cowboy” (2021) Review: An Endangered and Unknown Subculture
Ricky Staub’s Concrete Cowboy, based on Greg Neri’s novel "Ghetto Cowboy", tells the story of a young teenager forced to adapt to a new lifestyle.

Daryn Miller is a cry-baby wimp, who still carries his baby fat. He isn’t a cunning businessman like his granddad, who opened a fitness club in a Johannesburg suburb 60 years ago. And, he’s definitely not a winner like his father who – as a successful bodybuilder – helped the business flourish. Under Daryn’s management, debts rise and membership decreases. On top of that, he finds a hostile competitor in Stars Fitness, a chain run by a dyed-in-the-wool career woman, who prefers to destroy her competitors instead of out-compete them.
Ricky Staub’s Concrete Cowboy, based on Greg Neri’s novel "Ghetto Cowboy", tells the story of a young teenager forced to adapt to a new lifestyle.
These confines won’t really encourage you to read the film as a metaphor for the nerve-inducing experience we’ve all been through over the last year, however — and in the interest of maintaining your dignity, you probably shouldn’t. While the sociopolitical commentary may have worked for the similarly-themed Buried (2010), in which we find Ryan Reynolds on his own buried alive in the Middle East, but this futuristic take on the premise is best left as a piece of distracting entertainment. Nevertheless, the atmosphere is no less suffocating, literally and dramatically.
The plot could’ve really been interesting if the elements of lycanthropy was integrated with perhaps the struggle of identity of being LGBTQ+. It's an experience for so many that as they’re starting to realizing their true selves, they feel like a monster, especially if they come from unsupportive homes or communities. Instead, the horror and transformation elements seem thrown in without contemplation of how this could deepen the narrative.
The coming-of-age story that brings viewers into the world of Broadway, New York City, with musical talent and LGBTQ leads.
In order to learn why an arguably outdated fanfic trope was resurfacing in the contact zone of popular culture, I dove into a vibrant trough of character development.
“And I think to myself….what a wonderful world”. Louis Armstrong sang about this notion via his classic 1967 song, an ode to witnessing elements of our life that should be but some reminders of exactly what that concluding line of each verse indicates. Now we see our contemporary realities and, just being honest, it makes a sentiment like this seem SO overtly far away….perhaps even impossible….to accept or believe could be. It sounds harsh, but again, so much of what is occurring speaks not to beauty, but bedlam.