Imagine a documentary so quirky and unexpected that it turns the most mundane subject into a laugh-out-loud, thought-provoking journey. That’s exactly what John Wilson’s The History of Concrete does—and it’s stealing the show at Sundance. But here’s where it gets controversial: this film is technically about concrete, but it’s barely about its history. Instead, it’s a deeply personal, wildly eccentric exploration of impermanence, preservation, and the human struggle to endure. And this is the part most people miss—it’s as much about Wilson’s own fears and anxieties as it is about the material holding our world together.
Wilson, fresh off the cancellation of his HBO hit How to with John Wilson, takes us on a whirlwind odyssey that feels like a longer, more introspective episode of his beloved series. From the flooded basement of his New York apartment to the ancient streets of Rome, from Hallmark movie workshops to bizarre Jamaica, Queens races, Wilson’s lens captures the absurdity and beauty of life’s fragility. Along the way, he grapples with his newfound celebrity, the void between projects, and the existential dread that comes with creating something only to watch it crumble—literally and metaphorically.
But is concrete really the star here? Or is it Wilson’s unique ability to find humor in the bleak and meaning in the mundane? The film zigzags through unexpected detours—like a trip to Italy that blows his budget or a visit to an underground rock show where he meets a musician coping with loss—yet it never loses sight of its core themes. It’s profound, it’s silly, and it’s unapologetically weird. Think figurative finger-crushing of NYC politicians, public pool poop categories, and a business that turns tattoos from the deceased into framed mementos. Yes, really.
What makes The History of Concrete so compelling is its blend of the heavy and the humorous. Wilson’s quasi-free-association style keeps you on your toes, while his dry wit and nasally narration tie it all together. But here’s the bold question: Is this film a masterpiece of idiosyncratic artistry, or just a meandering tangent that occasionally loses steam? At three times the length of a typical How to episode, it’s not always a smooth ride. Yet, it’s hard to deny Wilson’s knack for turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.
As the credits roll, you’re left with a mix of laughter and introspection. Wilson doesn’t reinvent the wheel—he just spins it in a way that’s entirely his own. And that’s why The History of Concrete is a Sundance standout. But what do you think? Is this film a genius exploration of life’s fragility, or a quirky misstep? Let’s debate in the comments!
