Wilson was freshly out of college and eager to establish himself as a filmmaker. But he was naturally timid. It took some gumption to leave his apartment in the Ridgewood neighborhood of Queens and start pointing his camera.<\/p>\n
\u201cI did a cappella in college for a little while, and I felt like that was the most embarrassing thing you could possibly do,\u201d shrugs the director of \u201cThe History of Concrete.\u201d \u201cOnce you do that, you can do pretty much anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
What compelled Wilson, 39, is a little hard for him to pinpoint now. He wanted to make movies,<\/a> and the streets of New York offered free, unlimited production value. He wanted to preserve what was always disappearing: a storefront sign, a moment. Most of all, he wanted to capture the mundane, ubiquitous things around us that go unexamined.<\/p>\n \u201cI think while I\u2019m shooting: What would another film be too afraid to put in? What would another film not have the room for?\u201d Wilson says. \u201cThe project of changing the way people see things is never-ending. It\u2019s what art-making should do.\u201d<\/p>\n High art at the Low Cinema<\/p>\n In a blockbuster movie world, Wilson is carving out his own idiosyncratic niche. A year ago, he opened the Low Cinema<\/a>, which he co-owns, in Ridgewood. It\u2019s a 42-seat micro-theater far off the Ticketmaster map, pieced together with the leftovers of defunct movie theaters. Wilson programs just about anything, much of it on old 16 mm reels. Moviegoers keep turning up.<\/p>\n \u201cPeople just roll the dice constantly,\u201d says Wilson, sitting in the theater.<\/p>\n On a recent September day, two \u201cChanging Lanes\u201d were playing \u2014 one the 2002 Ben Affleck movie, the other the 2025 bike lane documentary. Wilson arrived that afternoon with a small haul of new VHS tapes: \u201cThe Birds,\u201d \u201cAu Revoir Les Enfants\u201d and \u201cEndless Summer II.\u201d Outside, a small concrete slab advertised Wilson\u2019s new movie.<\/p>\n \u201cI opened up this place maybe unconsciously, partially, so I would have a place to premiere my own movie, in case no one wanted to buy it,\u201d Wilson says, smiling. \u201cBut that doesn\u2019t seem to be the case.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe History of Concrete,\u201d<\/a> Wilson\u2019s feature film debut, did open in just one theater. But it sold nearly every available seat. Over the weekend, it grossed $90,000 at Manhattan\u2019s IFC Center for Magnolia Pictures.<\/p>\n Despite \u2014 or maybe because of \u2014 Wilson\u2019s resistance to Hollywood\u2019s prevailing wisdom, he has grown an entirely organic, authentic and highly personal micro-revolution in movies.<\/p>\n \u201cI always wanted to have something that was mine that felt like no one else could make. I got really jaded by the indie film world after a while,\u201d Wilson says. \u201cI didn\u2019t want to play by any of the same rules.\u201d<\/p>\n In this photo taken with a smartphone, signage for \u201cThe History of Concrete\u201d is pictured outside the Low Cinema on Tuesday, Sept. 8, 2026, in the Ridgewood section of Queens borough of New York. (AP Photo\/Jake Coyle)\n<\/p>\n In this photo taken with a smartphone, signage for \u201cThe History of Concrete\u201d is pictured outside the Low Cinema on Tuesday, Sept. 8, 2026, in the Ridgewood section of Queens borough of New York. (AP Photo\/Jake Coyle)\n<\/p>\n This image released by Magnolia Pictures shows John Wilson in a scene from \u201cThe History of Concrete.\u201d (Magnolia Pictures via AP)\n<\/p>\n John Wilson poses for a photograph at the Low Cinema on Tuesday, Sept. 8, 2026, in the Ridgewood section of Queens borough of New York. (AP Photo\/Jake Coyle)\n<\/p>\n Show Caption<\/p>\n 1 of 4<\/p>\n In this photo taken with a smartphone, signage for \u201cThe History of Concrete\u201d is pictured outside the Low Cinema on Tuesday, Sept. 8, 2026, in the Ridgewood section of Queens borough of New York. (AP Photo\/Jake Coyle)\n<\/p>\n Expand<\/a> When Wilson gets a subject in his head \u2014 scaffolding, small talk, ear cleaning \u2014 that\u2019s only the starting point. From there, he goes places both absurd and existential. The bird-watching episode of his Nathan Fielder-produced HBO series \u201cHow To with John Wilson\u201d<\/a> led him, improbably, to a Titanic replica in Tennessee.<\/p>\n \u201cThe History of Concrete\u201d sets out to examine the second-most used substance in the world. (No. 1? Water.) The movie\u2019s beginning was typically humdrum: Wilson\u2019s basement flooded and he struggled to fix it. But it unspools with remarkable digressions, from a tattoo preservationist for the dead to a liquor salesperson and rock musician named Jack Macco.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was one of the lowest points, that day we met. I was shooting potholes all day,\u201d Wilson says. \u201cMy camera broke. I was in pieces. Then I ran into him at the liquor store and I took my camera out of my bag, and then I ended up spending the next year and a half with him.\u201d<\/p>\n Wilson\u2019s ability to find connection in inhospitable places has become legend. On a \u201cHow To\u201d episode shot at spring break in Cancun, Mexico, a chance encounter with a soulful young man named Chris turns into a tender dialogue on social anxiety and grief.<\/p>\n![\"In](\"https:\/\/www.bostonherald.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Film_-_The_History_of_Concrete_91261.jpg?w=620\")
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\nPotholes and chance encounters<\/p>\n