Dancing Around the Hard Stuff

Sometimes, a documentary is not a documentary, at least by the rules of order we’ve grown accustomed to. In these rule-fudging outlier projects, titles can be cleverly misleading or only half-truthful, as in The History of Concrete, from John Wilson, of the HBO docu-series How to with John Wilson. His first film is a doc that dances with two left feet, for our enjoyment and, to a degree, our education. 

Yes, those with a serious interest in concrete—its history, physical, and behavioral properties, and critical relevance to Gotham — will be amply rewarded over the course of the film. But Wilson is up to some sneaky and often dryly comical hijinks with his film, turning it into a surreal and droll romp in the vein of alternative documentaries such as Ross McElwee’s Sherman’s March; Errol Morris’s Vernon, Florida; and various Les Blank–directed items (e.g. Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe and Gap-Toothed Women).

As in his HBO show, Wilson plays an innocent trying earnestly — or faux earnestly — to understand the ways of the alien world of modern life. There seems to be a touch of the stereotyped Asperger’s, or visiting Martian’s, perspective involved with this character, feeding off of a driving need to make sense of life and social situations. In this case, he plays a would-be documentarian, recovering from his dreams of making a Hallmark film by turning to a documentary about that ubiquitous temporary substance we all know and not necessarily love, but live among — concrete!

Of course, plenty of quirky detours, asides, and visual puns pepper the film, stitched together from a mountain of footage shot on his humble camera/cell phone. One potential producer responds to his pitch succinctly: “Where’s the sizzle?” But Wilson dives in, rationalizing “research” trips to Rome, the Emmy Awards (and Los Angeles, generally), a concrete convention, and lots of discoveries in his own hometown of N.Y.C. 

Take, for instance, a bit on the business called “Gumbusters,” specializing in removing unwanted gum from surfaces. “Gum is the bird shit of people,” claims the owner, who gleefully demonstrates his special vaporizing machine in action on a sidewalk (a concrete sidewalk, by the way). When an offending piece of gum is obliterated, he proclaims, “That gum is busted!” This, too, is humanity in action.

Later in the film, Wilson turns to the idea of adding a musical angle to the project for added appeal and marketability. After a winking joke about turning his concrete tale into a “rockumentary” (rim shot), he follows underground, struggling musicians, including an aspiring rocker who becomes a focus and even a makeshift friend (another trend in Wilson’s work).  

Also, as in his HBO show, the fourth wall is tugged back when celebrities make sneak appearances in the presumably street-level mix of the film. At one point, he talks to actor Michael Imperioli, from The Sopranos (and a Santa Barbara resident for many years), and circles around the subject of concrete, pointing to a sidewalk outside his window. “How’s that concrete?” Imperioli ponders for a beat, then says, “It ain’t going nowhere.”

Shades of underlying meaning and thematic messages also sneak into Wilson’s wandering saga. In one detour, revisited at film’s end, he marvels at a Zen-like “run” practice launched by the late Indian mystic-guru Sri Chinmoy, in which runners move in smallish circles for marathon durations. “If you run in circles long enough,” Wilson surmises, almost as a secret mission statement for his film and outlook on life, “you’ll eventually just get somewhere new.” 

The History of Concrete is a doc that dances with two left feet, but makes it work on its own terms.

The History of Concrete is showing at SBIFF’s Riviera Theatre. Watch the trailer here.