Imagine a documentary so quirky and unexpected that it turns the most mundane subject into a hilarious and profound journey. Yes, you read that right—a film about concrete. But The History of Concrete, Sundance’s standout comedy, isn’t just about the gray stuff under your feet. It’s a wild ride through the mind of John Wilson, the mastermind behind How to with John Wilson, as he grapples with impermanence, creativity, and the absurdity of life itself. But here’s where it gets controversial: is concrete really the star, or is it just a clever metaphor for Wilson’s own existential crisis? Let’s dive in.
At first glance, the film seems to promise a deep dive into the history of concrete. And while it does touch on its composition—cement, water, sand, and stone—and its status as the second most-used material globally (after water), it quickly veers into uncharted territory. The oldest American concrete street, laid in Ohio in 1891? Mentioned, but not the focus. Instead, Wilson uses concrete as a lens to explore his fears post-How to with John Wilson, a series whose cancellation left him adrift. The film mirrors the show’s format, blending dry humor, witty narration, and offbeat street interviews, but with a cinematic twist.
Wilson’s journey is as eccentric as it is relatable. From the flooded basement of his New York apartment to the ancient streets of Rome, from movie sets to music clubs, he ponders life’s fragility. Things break, crumble, and die, but they also endure—a theme that resonates deeply in a world obsessed with permanence. And this is the part most people miss: The History of Concrete isn’t just about concrete; it’s about the human condition, wrapped in a blanket of absurdity.
The film’s structure feels like an extended episode of How to with John Wilson, complete with Wilson’s nasal narration and his knack for finding the bizarre in the everyday. After the show’s conclusion, Wilson became a minor celebrity, earning Emmy nominations and even becoming a Jeopardy! question (though, hilariously, no one could answer it). He attended A-list events, like a GQ gala for Kim Kardashian, where his out-of-place presence—sitting alongside Jacob Elordi and Dwyane Wade—became comedy gold, especially when fellow comedian Tim Robinson joined him in a punchline-perfect moment.
But fame didn’t ease Wilson’s anxiety. Admitting that “the space between projects is hard,” he rejected lucrative advertising gigs (Arby’s and Depends, anyone?) and took to the streets with his camera, searching for inspiration. His quest led him to a Hallmark movie writing workshop during the 2023 Writers Guild of America strike, where the formulaic nature of holiday films—always ending with “things will get better”—felt both funny and bleak. Yet, it’s this tension between humor and despair that defines Wilson’s work.
Wilson’s investigation into concrete takes him to Italy, where he blows his initial budget on a trip that yields little usable footage. Investors are skeptical, but the more he spirals into this “construction-grade rabbit hole,” the funnier and more profound the film becomes. It’s a quasi-free-association journey, with each tangent leading to unexpected discoveries. From cracking sidewalks to a bizarre 52-day race in Jamaica, Queens, Wilson’s subjects all circle back to his anxieties about mortality.
But here’s the bold claim: The History of Concrete is as much about Wilson’s struggle to cope with loss as it is about its titular subject. His encounter with an underground musician grieving the death of his partner is a standout moment, evoking the raw empathy of Nathan Fielder’s Finding Frances. It’s weird, it’s off-kilter, and it’s deeply moving.
Wilson’s humor is as unpredictable as his narrative. He “crushes” the heads of NYC politicians with his fingers, à la The Kids in the Hall, and visits a public pool where staffers classify poop types. The film oscillates between profound and silly, from city council meetings to a business that turns tattoos from the deceased into framed mementos. At three times the length of a typical How to with John Wilson episode, it occasionally drags, but Wilson’s knack for puns and tangents—like a montage of window shutters paired with the line “you shudder to think”—keeps it lively.
The History of Concrete isn’t groundbreaking in the traditional sense. It’s Wilson doing what he does best, but on a bigger scale. And that’s more than enough to make it a Sundance standout. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most profound art comes from embracing the absurd. So, here’s the question: Is concrete just a boring building material, or is it a metaphor for the resilience of the human spirit? Let’s debate it in the comments.
