Hard Times

Documentaries come in all shapes and sizes. 

Over the years, we’ve seen everything from traditional historical retrospectives, concert films, and intimate portraits of celebrities, to sweet human-interest stories, hard-hitting investigative exposés, and explorations of offbeat subjects — some that leave you guessing about how real they actually are. Heck, in 2021, a movie called My Octopus Teacher won the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature.

And then there’s The History of Concrete, John Wilson’s weird and wonderful documentary about, yes, concrete. The stuff we walk on, build with, and generally don’t give a second thought to unless somebody trips over a sidewalk or a bridge collapses.

But if you’ve seen Wilson’s TV series, How To with John Wilson, which ended its run on HBO in 2023 and is currently available to watch on HBO Max, you know that the subject is really just the beginning. This is a filmmaker who could make a documentary about watching paint dry and somehow turn it into a hilarious, existential journey through the absurdity of being alive.

Wilson’s signature style is a bizarre combination of observational comedy, awkward encounters with strangers, random street footage, and deadpan narration that connects seemingly unrelated moments in ways that are both ridiculous and surprisingly profound. His HBO show perfected this formula over three seasons, turning mundane topics into unexpected explorations of the human condition. Indeed, episodes of How To covered everything from how to appreciate wine to how to split the check to how to clean your ears. Seriously.

Here, he brings that same sensibility to a material that is about as exciting as, well, watching concrete dry.

And yet, The History of Concrete is about considerably more than its titular subject. It’s also about creativity and the messy, unpredictable process of trying to make something when you aren’t entirely sure what that something is supposed to be.

Like Michael Moore, Wilson makes himself an essential part of the story, although we hear his distinctive voice far more than we actually see him. His own experiences, frustrations, and discoveries become part of the documentary’s narrative, giving it a personal point of view that another filmmaker might have avoided. We’re not simply learning about concrete; we’re following Wilson as he tries to figure out what concrete has to do with his own life, his work, and the movie he’s making.

In other words, concrete is just the foundation for everything Wilson layers on top of it. (How’s that for a metaphor?)

And that’s where the film really connects. Sometimes you just have to start creating, Wilson says early on. Just grab a camera and start filming. (Or, pick up a pen and start writing, to quote Hamilton.) You might not know what you’re trying to say at first, but if you keep looking, keep listening, and follow your curiosity, the subject will eventually find you. Wilson’s journey is a funny, occasionally frustrating, but ultimately inspiring illustration of that idea.

Of course, the movie isn’t perfect. Towards the end, the film seems to go on and on, and you kind of wish Wilson would wrap it up. But his willingness to embrace the unexpected is precisely what makes his work so refreshing. And when some of his earlier discoveries start to come around again … well, those unexpected twists make the whole thing worth it.

Ultimately, The History of Concrete is a wonderfully offbeat, frequently hilarious, and occasionally profound celebration of creativity and the unpredictable ways it can lead us somewhere unexpected.

This is a particularly good year for distinctive documentaries. (Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s You Can See Everything, about Elizabeth Holmes, looks like it’s another one.) If Wilson’s gloriously unconventional film isn’t shortlisted for the Best Feature Documentary Oscar this year, it’ll be a damn shame.

I’m giving The History of Concrete a B+.