Directed by: John Wilson
Run Time: 1 hour 41 minutes
With a title like The History of Concrete, you could be forgiven for thinking that this documentary might be one of the most mundane films ever to hit the big screen, but those familiar with John Wilson will know not to take the title at face value. In his HBO series, How To With John Wilson, each episode takes a basic pitch (‘How To Make Small Talk’ or ‘How To Cook the Perfect Risotto’ etc.) and adopts a freeform approach to tackling said topic, and in taking this effective format and applying it to a feature film, The History of Concrete is no different.
Beginning amidst the 2023 WGA strike, Wilson attends the only class available: a workshop on how to write the ultimate Hallmark Christmas movie. Inspired by the production company’s strange obsession with urban life and all things real estate, Wilson decides to apply the lessons from this class to pitch a documentary of his own about, well, you guessed it, concrete.
What follows is a peculiar progression that sees this premise continually evolve as the film goes on. This mainly occurs through the various New Yorkers he meets and the people they subsequently introduce him to along the way. This almost makes the film feel like the visual equivalent of a run-on sentence, which may be jarring to some, but in using a similar structure to episodes of ‘How To…’ fans of the show will at least be familiar with it. This does mean the film constantly threatens to lose focus of what it’s ultimately trying to say though, but Wilson skilfully smooths over the cracks with visual gags and witty narration.
Something further that really sells The History of Concrete too, is Wilson’s growing fascination on the titular subject. There’s certainly an undercurrent of irony when he delivers his pitch to a Zoom call full of producers, whose reactions are predictably awkward. But it’s when he starts to look deeper into the relationship between the general public and concrete that his interest really develops; it makes him take the subject more seriously, and thus it makes the audience do the same. Why is it that we don’t think about concrete, a material that the majority of the Western world is reliant on and can be seen almost everywhere we look? Why isn’t it well preserved, and why do we accept that? Wilson doesn’t necessarily have answers to these questions, but making viewers contemplate them is an achievement within itself.
He’s also especially gifted at interacting with members of the public, and admirably the comedy that’s born out of this seldom comes from making his subjects look stupid, rather coming from the awkwardness of human interaction. It’s clear that Wilson is also very well-liked by his contemporaries in the film and comedy industries, not only observed by the executive producer credit from Josh Safdie, but also by the celebrity cameos sprinkled throughout. Wilson takes advantage of this for the film’s benefit, demonstrated in one of the film’s many surprisingly absurd sequences, where he’s (in his words) randomly invited to a ceremony celebrating Kim Kardashian winning GQ’s Man Of The Year.
Much of the film’s comedy revolves around sequences exploring businesses and bizarre public events that feel like they could only exist in the USA. Stand out moments include a man with a business about vaporising gum from pavements (“That gum is busted” will ring in your head long after watching) and a theatrical bricklaying contest that’s comically patriotic. However, the most baffling sequence of them all is one that explores a man’s unique and somewhat horrifying tattoo business. These moments not only allow the audience to explore a dull topic through an entertaining lens, but also to laugh at some truly absurd American concepts, that refreshingly, aren’t to do with their politics.
About an hour in, the film moves past these sequences to focus on subjects that become more and more unrelated to its original thesis, in particular an extended amount of time is dedicated to a liquor sales rep and metal band frontman, Jack Macco. While the initial meeting seems to follow a similar formula to previous segments that see Wilson interact with someone for five minutes or so, he decides to stay with Macco for almost the entire third act.
Credit where credit is due, through his time with Macco, Wilson does portray the struggles of unknowns and cover bands in a way that few films have before, along with the ever growing cultural distance between the venues they play and the enormous arenas that are thriving. Any musician playing a small venue can relate to the dilemma of debuting new or original music to a crowd expecting the hits, so there is some good commentary here. The issue with this section comes from Wilson thinking the audience is more invested in this subject than they actually are. An eventual emotional revelation does at least offer a surprising tonal shift, and while it’s obviously a sad moment for Macco, it still feels like a strange basis for the film’s conclusion.
Thankfully, Wilson’s ending narration does put The History of Concrete back on firmer footing again, reflecting on the film’s journey while using visuals to call back to earlier events — the hilarious choice of song for the end credits is especially inspired. And while the film may not be the most groundbreaking exploration of urban life there’s ever been, it’s certainly one of the more entertaining. A common idea of documentary filmmaking is that you can make one about anything, so long as it’s interesting. Well here’s the concrete proof.
Star Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
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