Aficionados of the John Wilson oeuvre will know that all the magic tends to happen in the space between the images and sounds. Wilson’s astonishing HBO show How To With John Wilson (the first two series of which are available on iPlayer) is in effect a dance between his narration, the tone of which relentlessly flicks from hilarious to thoughtful to moving, and the strange and disquieting self-shot montage of New York that accompanies it. So you can only imagine how satisfying it is to learn that Wilson extends this technique to his Zoom calls. We have arranged to meet to discuss the third and final series of How To … and yet when Wilson hops on the line his backdrop is that of a ruined living room. It’s mouldy. Bits of the ceiling have dropped to the floor. There’s a level of destruction so comprehensive it’s hard to tell whether it was caused by anger or neglect. “It’s from [the property website] Zillow,” he shrugs in the same halting, nasal voice that he uses to narrate his work. “I’m on Zillow a lot. I like casually looking at stuff, but I have a bunch of rooms that, like, people …” And then he tails off as he starts flicking through his curated gallery of genuinely horrible online real estate. The next picture that appears behind him is of what seems to be a dungeon, complete with sinister dentist chair, then a decaying room furnished only by an ostentatiously large sofa. “This is a strange one,” he says, before his background changes again to an immaculate living room whose walls are pasted with dozens of designer shopping bags. There has been some speculation in the past about Wilson’s screen persona, whether or not someone this unconventional would be able to oversee one of the best television shows ever made. On the basis of our introduction, it would seem that this speculation is baseless. John Wilson is John Wilson, on screen and off. Once the slideshow is over, I take a moment to explain a quandary. The email from HBO confirming our interview firmly states that I should refrain from asking Wilson any personal questions. But How To … is such an intensely personal affair. As funny as it is, it’s also a tremendous example of documentary as memoir. The show’s format sees Wilson head off around New York with his camera, ostensibly to offer up advice on a topic big or small – How To Invest in Real Estate, How To Cook the Perfect Risotto – but things always spin off in an unexpected direction. In each episode he reveals so much of himself – his love life, his relationship with his elderly landlady, his feud with the criminal sex cult Nxivm – that it’s hard not to see the show as a direct line to his brain. Especially since this new season is easily his most personal yet. We learn about his sexuality, we witness a bereavement, and in one shot we see a pile of cigarette butts as Wilson alludes to a bad breakup. But I can’t ask personal questions. “Well, we can always talk about the weather,” Wilson says. “No, obviously, the whole show is very personal. I was feeling very emotional when I started writing season three, for a number of reasons, and I just needed somewhere to put all that energy.” The cigarette shot in particular was very sad, I say. Wilson’s voice drops to little more than a whisper. “I’m OK,” he says. “I shot most of this season, like, a year ago. Things have changed, but I think I was going through a bit of dark period. I do feel like it’s really important to put all this personal stuff in there.” At this point he pauses, audibly weighing up how much he wants to share. Listening back, I clock a full 13 seconds before he finally decides to commit. “It’s funny,” he eventually says. “I’m like, I’m like … dating someone right now who hasn’t seen the show at all. But she just started watching it last night and I haven’t spoken to her yet about it.” That must be an odd sensation. After all, at what point in a new relationship do you reveal that the New York Times called you a genius two years ago? “I’m not sure I ever really put it like that,” he murmurs. “She was a friend of a friend of a friend. We just met at a party and she didn’t know who I was. But then I think her friends may have mentioned that I have a show. She wanted to get to know me first before she watched it, but I don’t think I’m much different in real life.” Aware that we have brazenly trampled all over HBO’s diktat, I decide to steer the conversation back to How To … Over the years, the show has functioned as a working document of New York – its quirks, its flaws, the way in which some residents kidnap pigeons or openly put their feet into other people’s mouths – that is unrivalled in its breadth. This continues in the new series, during which Wilson visits perhaps the last truly ungentrified scrap of the city: a sunken, off-grid neighbourhood located between Brooklyn and Queens known as The Hole, notorious for once functioning as a mafia graveyard. Was it somewhere that Wilson was familiar with? “I had driven by a bunch, but I’d never really walked around there and talked to anybody,” he replies. “It’s kind of a strange area. People bring stolen cars there, strip them of all their identifying features and then resell them. So there was this tension while I was filming. People asking who I was or being physically intimidating. It turned out fine. But I don’t recommend anyone go there.” So much of Wilson’s work involves him wandering into potentially uncomfortable situations just to see where they take him. In a season two episode ostensibly about wine appreciation, he ends up crashing the sprawling home of preening energy drink CEO Jack Owoc. The decision to visit, he says, was spur of the moment. Nevertheless Owoc ended up giving Wilson a tour of the house. For most people, the whole encounter would be intolerably awkward, but the ease with which Wilson gets Owoc – all his subjects – to open up is staggering. “I have nothing to hide,” Wilson says of his approach. “With that episode I was like: ‘Hey, I was making this episode about wine then I rediscovered my love of energy drinks. And I ended up here, weirdly. And, you know, would you be willing to talk about all the different flavours you have here?’” Owoc was fired from his role in March. Is that your fault, I ask. “I can’t take credit,” Wilson demurs. “But I definitely think the show maybe kind of elevated his profile a bit. But I think I have a high threshold for uncomfortable situations. I kind of gravitate towards them. It’s just kind of a rush I can’t really get anywhere else.” Wilson is adamant that, despite all the acclaim heaped on How To … this third season really will be its last. “I just wanted to end on a really strong note,” he says of his decision. “I didn’t want to overextend the work. I didn’t want the quality of the imagery to feel stale. I didn’t want the quality of the memoir stuff to feel stale. I just feel like the best thing you can do is leave people wanting more.” Which isn’t to say that fans of Wilson’s work should be too downhearted by the news. After all, Wilson and his camera are inseparable at this point. He began making videos as a child – back then they went by the name The Johnny Show – and gradually evolved from a series of well-received proto-How To … shorts on Vimeo into his HBO show. Even during lockdown, before a second season was formally commissioned, Wilson spent his days on the streets filming whatever he found. His film-making is so personal that it’s bound to continue in some form or another. “I have a few balls in the air,” he says. “I have a few ideas. But yeah, just out of pure superstition, I don’t really want to reveal anything.” Before I leave Wilson to his hideous designer backdrop, there is one question I have been dying to ask him: is his landlady OK? “People keep asking me that,” he sighs. I suspect this is for good reason. The relationship that Wilson documented with his former landlady is one of the sweetest ever depicted on television. Wilson spent the series chronicling the ups and downs of his time with the elderly woman who lived on the floor below him. She cooked him meals. She asked to be called Mama. They held hands and watched gameshows together. And then she had a health scare during lockdown and moved to Las Vegas. To watch How To With John Wilson is to become weirdly invested in how they rub along together. So how is she? “I haven’t spoken to her in a few months,” he admits reluctantly. “I know. I’ve got to text her. I still get her mail, though. Look at this bookmark I’m using.” Wilson reaches behind him to grab a book. He opens it up, grabs an item from between the pages and proudly holds it up to the camera. “It’s her senior citizen MetroCard,” he says. For a moment I am blindsided by just how sweet this is. The pair of them are thousands of miles apart but still connected by a single forgotten, mundane keepsake. The card is ubiquitous enough to become invisible, but using it like this renders it indelibly personal. What a perfect John Wilson moment this is. What a … hang on, does this mean you’re going through her mail? “Yeah,” giggles John Wilson sheepishly. “What? She’s not gonna use the metro.” Series one and two of How To With John Wilson are on BBC iPlayer; the season three relase date is to be confirmed.