The History of Concrete Review – John Wilson’s Debut Feature is a Delightfully Absurd Achievement
Prepare yourself for a fascinating journey into the world of concrete! When the Sundance Film Festival unveiled its lineup last December, one documentary, titled The History of Concrete, immediately caught the attention of those in the know. Its intriguing premise was encapsulated in a single line: "After attending a workshop on how to write and sell a Hallmark movie, filmmaker John Wilson attempts to apply the same formula to market a documentary about concrete."
John Wilson, a filmmaker whose style echoes the candid, dry humor of Nathan Fielder, has an exceptional talent for crafting modern documentary-essay-memoirs. He possesses a remarkable ability to uncover quirky, unintentionally humorous, and sometimes unsettling stories that lurk within everyday life. Over three nearly flawless seasons of his HBO series How To With John Wilson, which was executive-produced by Fielder, he transformed seemingly mundane how-to guides (like "How to Cook the Perfect Risotto") into insightful reflections on the cacophony, isolation, and absurdity of contemporary urban living. Each half-hour episode felt like a masterful magic act, weaving together bizarre tangents that were artfully brought back to focus just in time. For fans of this show—arguably the best television series about New York in recent years—Wilson's feature-length documentary exploring such a quintessential aspect of urban existence was highly anticipated.
Fortunately, The History of Concrete delivers an experience akin to a 100-minute How To episode, enriched by Wilson's newfound celebrity status and additional whimsical detours. His iconic greeting, "Hey, New York," marks a peculiar moment for filming. His HBO series, which propelled him to fame with a Times Square billboard and Emmy nominations, has concluded, leaving him in a somewhat surreal state of mid-level success typical of the 2020s. His face is now featured on black-market cannabis products with slogans like "high, New York!", he receives collaboration offers from brands like Arby’s, and he even became a $1,000 trivia answer on Jeopardy!—a question no one could answer. Most amusingly, someone on TikTok is employing an AI-generated version of his voice to promote gutter installation services. Amidst this whirlwind of unexpected fame, Wilson shares, in his distinctively awkward and nasal narration, the relatable struggle of finding his next direction.
This leads us to the Writer’s Guild of America (WGA), which, during the 2023 strikes, provided workshops like “How To Make and Sell A Hallmark Movie” for its members, including Wilson. Intrigued by the eccentricities of the assignment, he returns home with a comical assortment of practical advice: trauma is acceptable as long as it concludes positively, film in Canada, and steer clear of the tired trope of "The Big City Girl Goes Home" in the post-girlboss era. Inspired by a genuine Hallmark movie titled ’Twas the Date Before Christmas—about an affordable housing developer trying to buy out a candle shop—Wilson ponders why, if Hallmark can explore real estate, he cannot find a way to sell concrete? It’s an enlightening epiphany, considering how little many of us truly understand about something so omnipresent in our surroundings.
At its core, this documentary echoes a recurring theme in Wilson’s work; The History of Concrete serves as a sort of sequel to a standout episode from How To that focused on scaffolding. That episode demonstrated how with attentive observation, even the most banal subjects can morph into captivating narratives that tap into universal human experiences. Through Wilson’s keen narration, the $8 billion industry surrounding scaffolding—comprised of metal poles and planks designed to prevent construction debris from falling—provoked discussions about safety, permanence, and the often-overlooked costs associated with them. Similarly, thanks to Cori Wapnowska’s precise editing, concrete—reported to be the second most utilized material on Earth after water, forming the basis of our cracked roads and gum-streaked sidewalks—emerges as both a symbol of deterioration and a metaphor for gritty, imperfect transformation.
Rather than signifying stagnation, the thematic and stylistic repetition in this film showcases how Wilson’s modest level of fame seems to have amplified his unique knack for capturing discordant, mismatched, and wonderfully irreverent moments. He is perhaps the only filmmaker capable of juxtaposing a glamorous dinner party featuring Kim Kardashian with a driver’s education class in Ohio, both approached with the same quirky curiosity. Audiences will find plenty of humor and wonder within Wilson’s top-tier visual collages and eccentric tangents, whether he’s documenting a junior bricklaying competition or a 3,100-mile race around a single block in Queens. True to form, he uncovers extraordinary personalities who deliver unforgettable lines such as "mean Gene the embalming machine!" Their amusing appearances are never belittled by mockery, instead celebrated for their uniqueness.
However, some aspects of the film’s connective tissue feel a bit loose and unfocused, even by Wilson’s admirably relaxed standards. At certain points, particularly during the film's slower concluding third, it appears Wilson is more intrigued by pursuing absurdity—testing how far he can follow an eccentric character—than establishing a cohesive argument. While Hallmark suggested blending serious themes with audience engagement hooks, tangential discussions about critical issues like affordable housing, New York’s deteriorating infrastructure, and the challenges of local opposition seem to lose steam before delivering their intended impact, hinting at Wilson’s hesitance to become too controversial.
Nevertheless, he manages to conclude on a high note. As a standalone film, The History of Concrete is consistently uproarious, engaging, and full of surprises, though it may run about 20 minutes longer than necessary. Ultimately, it transcends its subject matter, delving into themes of transition, the challenge of propelling oneself forward, and the struggle to create documentaries in an age of dwindling budgets and media consolidation. It addresses false security, the lingering nature of impermanence, and the inevitable march onward—all set against the backdrop of gum stains and other realities of life. You know, the genuinely tough stuff.
The History of Concrete is currently being showcased at the Sundance Film Festival and is in search of distribution.
