Prepare to be astonished: Sundance's most hilarious film isn't a comedy, but a documentary about... concrete! You might be thinking, 'Concrete? Really?' But trust me, John Wilson has found a way to make the most seemingly mundane subject utterly captivating and surprisingly profound.
While "The History of Concrete" does touch upon the basics – that it's a blend of cement, water, sand, and stone, making it the second most-used material globally (only water beats it!) and that the oldest American concrete street dates back to 1891 in Ohio – its real genius lies elsewhere. This film is far less about the material itself and more about how Wilson uses concrete as a lens to explore his own anxieties following the cancellation of his acclaimed HBO series, "How to with John Wilson." The documentary, premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, brilliantly mirrors the format of his beloved show, making it both incredibly funny and deeply touching.
But here's where it gets truly fascinating: Wilson embarks on a peculiar journey, traversing from the bustling streets of Manhattan to the ancient ruins of Rome, from movie sets to humble sidewalks, and even into dimly lit music clubs. His odyssey is a profound meditation on impermanence, the struggle to preserve what we cherish, and the remarkable capacity for regeneration. He grapples with the universal truth that things break, crumble, and eventually cease to exist, yet also highlights how, with a dash of effort, curiosity, inspiration, and sheer grit, life and creations can endure.
This film feels like a natural extension of Wilson's TV work. It begins with the premise of being a longer, more expansive episode of "How to with John Wilson," complete with his signature nasal narration, dry wit, and candid snapshots of everyday life. As Wilson himself explains, the end of his show propelled him into a strange kind of minor celebrity, even earning him Emmy nominations and becoming a trivia question on "Jeopardy!" (which, amusingly, stumped the contestants).
He even found himself at glitzy events, like a GQ gala for Kim Kardashian. The footage is comedic gold, not just because the down-to-earth Wilson is hilariously out of place among stars like Jacob Elordi and Dwayne Wade, but due to a brilliant camera pan revealing his tablemate: fellow comedic force Tim Robinson! And this is the part most people miss... Wilson candidly admits that the "space between projects is hard." He turns down lucrative advertising gigs (for Arby's and Depends adult diapers, no less!) and hits the streets with his camera, desperately seeking an epiphany.
His quest initially leads him, during the 2023 Writers Guild of America strike, to a workshop on crafting Hallmark movies. The instructor's meticulous breakdown of these feel-good films, emphasizing the crucial message that "things will get better," is darkly funny precisely because of its stark, almost bleak, simplicity.
Yet, things do start to improve for Wilson, spurred by a perpetually flooding basement in his apartment building. This mundane problem ignites an investigation into the very concrete that underpins our modern world, leading to a series of unexpected discoveries.
Here's a point that might spark debate: Wilson's chosen subject – concrete – is arguably one of the least inherently exciting topics imaginable. He, and potential investors he consults via Zoom, are acutely aware of this. His decision to blow a significant portion of his initial budget on a trip to Italy that yields little usable material doesn't exactly inspire confidence. However, the deeper Wilson delves into this construction-grade rabbit hole, the more hilariously absurd and captivating "The History of Concrete" becomes, veering in directions only he could conceive.
Much like his previous work, the film flows with a stream-of-consciousness vibe, where each point of interest spawns a new, often bizarre, discovery. Yet, the brilliance of "The History of Concrete" is its ability to maintain focus on its core themes – concrete and, by extension, the fleeting nature of human existence and our creations – despite its many detours.
From the sight of cracking sidewalks and towering skyscrapers to a peculiar race in Jamaica, Queens, where participants run around a single block for 52 days straight (a staggering 3,100 miles) in honor of their late spiritual leader, Wilson's seemingly disparate subjects all subtly speak to his anxieties about mortality.
Amidst impromptu visits to the set of a film starring Timothée Chalamet and conventions exploring the future of 3D concrete printing, Wilson is even told he resembles director Ari Aster and needs a big musician to boost his film's appeal.
To achieve this, he ventures into underground rock shows and serendipitously encounters a musician whose struggle to keep his metal dreams alive mirrors Wilson's own existential quandaries, especially as he grapples with the recent loss of his long-time partner. In these moments, "The History of Concrete" transforms into a poignant character study, reminiscent of the emotional depth found in the finale of Nathan Fielder's "Nathan for You," catching the viewer off guard with its peculiar yet profound empathy.
Wilson masterfully blends the profound with the utterly silly. His film is peppered with unexpected jokes, from him comically 'crushing' the heads of NYC Mayor Eric Adams and Governor Kathy Hochul with his fingers (a nod to "The Kids in the Hall") to a visit to a public pool where staff meticulously explain the various types of 'poop' that would necessitate its closure.
"The History of Concrete" is both deeply philosophical and riotously funny. It's the latter quality that truly drives the narrative, as it leaps from city council meetings to makeshift aquariums, and even to a mind-bogglingly strange business that creates mementos from the tattoos of the deceased by touching up and framing patches of their skin.
At roughly three times the length of a typical "How to with John Wilson" episode, the film occasionally feels like it might lose a bit of momentum. However, Wilson's talent for unexpected tangents, witty remarks, and groan-worthy puns (his "you shudder to think" pun accompanying a montage of window shutters is a prime example) keeps the audience engaged.
With his debut feature, Wilson isn't necessarily breaking new ground but rather expanding his unique artistic vision on a grander scale. This, however, is more than enough to establish his documentary as a standout at this year's Sundance Film Festival and a testament to the fact that the money men should perhaps learn to embrace his unconventional genius.
What do you think? Is it possible to find profound meaning in the most ordinary of subjects? Does Wilson's approach to documentary filmmaking resonate with you? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
