'How to with John Wilson' reveals the profound in the mundane

Overflowing dumpsters and the art of noticing

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Have you ever stopped to notice scaffolding? Or watched a loaf of bread in a plastic bag swing back and forth on a subway? Or pointed your camera directly into the cold dead eyes of a flattened sewer rat?

Filmmaker John Wilson has, and now you can live vicariously through him as he documents these and other noteworthy experiences in HBO’s “How to with John Wilson.”

“How to” is one of the most unique shows I’ve ever seen. Episodes begin with stranger-than-fiction footage of real-life New York City and end with thought-provoking meditations on friendship, solitude, and belonging. They feel part satire, part performance art, and part investigative journalism. They’re all curiosity and charm. That’s because Wilson has mastered the art of noticing.

Take episode one, “How to make small talk.” Its opening shots include scenes of an overflowing dumpster, a person sitting on a park bench with a jacket draped over her head, and a mannequin peeking out from a pile of junk in the passenger seat of a car. These are tastefully paired with musings on how not to divulge too much about oneself to another person. After all, as John says, “Failing to engage properly can condemn you to a life of social alienation.” John’s argument for avoiding big talk begins to unravel, however, as he finds himself far from home at a tropical resort during spring break, sticking out from the crowd like a sore thumb. He repeatedly runs into a guy who also seems conspicuously alone but adopts a facade of aloofness. By the end of the episode, both men finally drop the masks, divulging their insecurities and genuinely connecting with each other over recent losses they’ve experienced.

This episode reflects how “How To” works. John picks viewers up with the intrigue of everyday oddities only to drop them off, after a circuitous journey, somewhere they never expected to go. In the process, we learn that complex worlds exist beyond our immediate notice. In their alienness, we catch a glimpse of our own humanity.

An audience review from season one’s Rotten Tomatoes entry puts it this way:

Like an alien dropped into NYC with a handheld camera, John Wilson awkwardly mumbles and stutters his way around various topics that are all mundane but each lead to the kind of unique situations and people that can only be discovered by jumping out of your comfort zone.

There’s an interesting YouTube video about the old Sam Raimi Spiderman movies — cough, the real Spider-Man movies — which praises them for bringing Spider-Man’s surroundings to life by honoring the sprawling cast of characters who inhabit them. Like in “How to,” Spider-Man’s New York is eccentric, full of oddballs brimming with personality, all of whom lead full, complex lives that we’re offered just a tiny peek into. These ostensibly minor characters are integral to the story because they’re inseparable from its setting, and its setting is inseparable from Peter Parker — who is inseparable from Spider-Man. It’s their lives that are at stake when threats befall the city, after all. It is they who our hero risks his life to defend.

Because we get to know the city’s less sympathetic elements — the landlord demanding rent, the boss berating his employees, the theatre attendant obstinately refusing to allow Peter late entry — we understand the full significance of Peter’s self-sacrificing actions. And we take note when the city so often hostile to both Peter and Spider-Man rallies to our protagonist when he’s at his lowest. We really feel it, for example, when Peter’s neighbor brings him a slice of cake at the end of a series of disappointments, or when train passengers block Doc. Ock’s path to an injured Spider-Man.

Likewise, in “How To,” the view isn’t always pretty. We see people grabbing their junk for the camera, yelling obscenities at passersby, cleaning up bloodied clothing, and going to ungodly lengths to “reserve” public parking spots. It’s amid this backdrop of pettiness and casual malevolence that John’s landlord sets homemade food outside his apartment door during COVID, and a group of socially awkward individuals forge friendships through their shared love of the “Avatar” film franchise. Like in “Spider-Man,” we recognize our protagonist, too, is a part of these surroundings and is just as prone to vice and virtue as the people with whom he interacts. What makes his project feel like a labor of love instead of glorified gawking is the deep attention he brings to these people and his emotional investment in the city he shares with them.

“Spider-Man” and “How To” couldn’t be more stylistically different, but they both leave me with a sense of appreciation for community that is only made possible by exploring its uglier side. Both remind me that when we’re confronted with the world’s more chaotic elements, we have a choice. Avert our eyes, protecting ourselves from discomfort by leading insular lives. Or drink in the scenery, dead rats and all, embracing our small role in in the series of fleeting encounters we call life.

Postscript

I’d like to take this opportunity to share some John Wilson-esque photos from my own archive:

“You suck.” “You blow.”

Unclear endorsement

Color-coordinated leaf piles

Harbingers of doom

Portal to funkytown

Further reading:

In February, I wrote about the relationship between setting and character in “Dune: Part I” for Cinemantics:

‘Desert Power’: Setting as character in ‘Dune’

In March, I reviewed the Destiny vs. Jordan Peterson debate for Merion West:

What Jordan Peterson’s conversation with Destiny can teach us

Thank you for reading Art Life Balance.

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