Review: The History of Concrete

In an early scene in The History of Concrete, director John Wilson cuts to an ad for gutters where AI was used to imitate his voice and cadence. It’s neither a great ad nor a good approximation of Wilson’s deadpan delivery; the ad is more useful in demonstrating Wilson’s point that he has achieved a strange level of fame than it is in selling gutters. Yet it also makes you think about how easy Wilson makes all this look, when what he’s doing is unique and impossible to replicate (apologies to that gutter company). His documentary style is at once specific and sprawling, about both the tiniest niches and about life itself. There are moments of profound revelation and absurd hilarity, with multiple visual gags about “butts” residing alongside social commentary.

Trying to explain Wilson’s DIY documentary style, present in both The History of Concrete and his HBO show How To with John Wilson, can’t express how wildly entertaining it is. Wilson himself tries to explain his approach, both in life and in meta moments in The History of Concrete, where he attempts to pitch his idea so he can get funding to make his movie. Unsurprisingly, people often do not get it. The filmmaker takes a mundane idea—here the history of this uninspiring but ubiquitous substance—and explores it, spending equal time doing a deep dive on it and going down every rabbit hole imaginable in the pursuit.

It’s a rambling approach that takes him far from his destination, beginning with a divergence into Hallmark movies and ranging as far as a company that preserves tattoos after the deaths of their owners. His low-key narration overlays low-key snippets of everyday, seemingly unrelated images that somehow work in the most delightful way. He presents an offbeat perspective, showing a curiosity about the world and those who inhabit it. Everything is important and compelling; some of the world’s biggest celebrities get their moment here, but he spends more time telling the stories of people his potential financiers don’t deem worthy of investment. He approaches everyone with equal parts empathy and humor, letting them tell their own stories.

While Wilson travels afield, exploring ancient concrete in Rome, visiting the oldest concrete street in Ohio, and attending a concrete conference in New Orleans, The History of Concrete remains very much a New York movie. Concrete is everywhere in the city, from new builds to crumbling facades, and it presents equal opportunity for growth and destruction. The History of Concrete might focus on concrete—as much as it focuses on anything—but it’s also commenting on the lack of affordable housing in the city today. It’s profoundly unserious with all those butt jokes and a litany of other perfect visual gags, but it also contributes to the discussion of what economic instability means for both communities and individuals across New York City neighborhoods.

At 100 minutes, the documentary is substantially longer than his show’s episodes were, and it starts to stretch and sag a bit. The brief nature of How To with John Wilson was one of its delights; it made its joys feel all the more ephemeral to be packaged in the guise of a half-hour comedy. When expanded to feature-length, Wilson’s style begins to feel a little like too much of a good thing, but complaining about that feels like something a New Yorker would do.

Wilson has a singular way of looking at the world. It’s tough to emerge from his movie without seeing things differently, even just as you walk down a concrete sidewalk. The History of Concrete is a marvelous experience, fascinating and funny, strange and strangely moving. It will appeal most to fans who watched his show, but it also could serve as an entry point for those who want more weirdness and wonder in their lives.