Concrete (2024) – 4 stars

Director: Eli Vidis Newman

Writer: Eli Vidis Newman

Cast: Ed Harris, Sophia Ali, Frankie Quinones, Henry Fulton Winship

Running time: 16mins

Set within an alternative 20th century that feels both alien and familiar, Concrete begins with an in-universe PSA warning its inhabitants that removing the mandatory two-inch-bolt from their foreheads will have disastrous, explosive consequences.

It’s a startling, handsomely-shot opening sequence that sets the uneasy, retro-futuristic tone of what’s to come. Powered by its atmosphere, production design and utilitarian filmmaking, Eli Vidis Newman’s Concrete may borrow more than it invents, but does so with a confidence that promises great things to come from an exciting new filmmaker.

The life of Arkady (Henry Fulton Winship) inside his oppressive, brutalist tower block is dominated by double shifts, and tortured conversations with the dysfunctional AI that sits on the back of his mute mother’s mobility chair. Arkady has a lot on his mind, but nothing more so than the implant he and every other citizen house in the centre of their forehead. We’re told the implant protects against “pineal combustion”, and the ads say “the only safe head is a protected head”, but it doesn’t take a neurosurgeon to suspect foul play. With the aid of Ed Harris’ mysterious stranger, Arkady will soon learn the terrible truth, and discover that reclaiming togetherness must first follow necessary and violent self-actualisation.

Concrete’s world feels immediately recognisable to the dystopian cinema of the 70’s and 80’s, with lead actor Henry Fulton Winship even casting a strikingly similar silhouette to John Hurt’s Winston in 1984. CRT monitors fizzle with static, a smog-dense haze obscures the city skyline, and a dreamy synth score accompanies a sci-fi tale that can feel more familiar than fresh.

Every idea in Concrete can be traced directly to its influence, but it’s a testament to the often-stunning execution that each of these borrowed influences collage into a well-written love letter rather than poorly-copied homework. The set and sound design especially work in tandem to create a world that feels lived in, and convinces that its borders extend far beyond the limited sets of the production. If doing a lot with a little is the ambition of all low-budget science fiction filmmaking, Concrete succeeds with aplomb.

Less effective is the transition into surrealism following a plot turn that necessitates a change in focus from outward-facing ideas to inward-probing reflection. One sequence borrows its imagery a little too liberally from The Shining, and effective though it may be, it clashes with the click and clang of the textured world Newman has constructed. 

Ed Harris brings impressive star power to a role larger in impact than scale. He handles the short film’s most important monologue with the sure handedness of one of his generation’s finest actors. Harris’ inclusion here can surely be attributed to the actor’s ability to recognise the latent talent of up-and-coming filmmakers, and his small role displays a self-awareness of the value that a performer of his calibre can bring to a micro-budget production. 

Even the greatest science fiction would fail if the futures depicted didn’t take their cues from the present. The further removed we are from our reality the closer the microscope moves to our own unmistakable foibles. Concrete similarly roots its science fiction in a distinctly 21st century challenge we each face with growing certainty. The technology built to bring us closer together only ever succeeded in pushing us further apart, and the communities we once lived in became silos we can’t escape from. Concrete doesn’t pretend to offer a solution to our echo chambers (after all, who can?) but does suggest that as always, the first step is recognising the problem. Unplugging and learning who we are away from the noise may not give us all the answers, but it’s a good place to start.

Concrete is a short film that often feels like a brilliant proof-of-concept for something larger – and may wear its influences on its sleeve a little too blatantly, but like the implant in its character’s forehead, its ideas, style and execution burrow into your subconscious and leave you keen for more. If Concrete is Eli Vidis Newman’s calling card, I expect him to be very busy very soon.