Wasteman - Review

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

THE prison drama genre may be as overcrowded as the penal system itself but that doesn’t mean to say that there aren’t some cracking movies still emerging within it. Cal McMau’s Wasteman is one such example.

Filmed over just 18 days on location at Shepton Mallet Prison in Somerset, the film has won praise for its gritty authenticity and tense storytelling. As well as marking an eye-catching directorial debut from McMau.

It’s also highly relevant, focusing on issues that feel current, such as prison overcrowding, early release schemes and smuggled inmate phone footage.

McCau and his cast actually worked with a London-based charity called Switchback, which supports young prison leavers, to gain extra insight; while at least 50% of the cast (including between 70 and 80% of the extras) were former inmates connected to the charity.

The result is a propulsive journey that’s often difficult to watch, given its raw violence and language… yet one that frequently asks valid questions of its audience, both from a moral perspective and a societal one (given the way it highlights institutional failure).

David Jonsson (of Alien: Romulus fame and recently announced as the new Black Panther) stars as Taylor, a struggling drug addict who has earned a shot at early parole within two weeks following good behaviour that has seen him take on kitchen work and cut fellow inmates’ hair (a skill he intends to take into life outside).

The prospect of release also offers him an opportunity to reconnect with his teenage son - albeit against the wishes of his former girlfriend.

But with freedom within his grasp, Taylor finds himself saddled with a new cellmate, Dee (Tom Blyth), a violent alpha male who immediately sets his sights on taking over the prison’s drug sales, thereby antagonising the existing top duo Paul (Alex Hassell) and Gaz (Corin Silva).

Taylor quickly finds himself caught in the middle of the approaching war… and forced to choose sides, with Dee initially helping him to get in touch and even reach out to his son, before then using knowledge of his whereabouts as leverage to get Taylor to perform a favour that could jeopardise his shot at parole.

It’s a pressure cooker situation given added intensity by the ever present threat of violence.

Yet while certainly horrific, McMau’s film also remains careful not to offer ugliness just for the sake of it. And his film even finds humanity in unexpected places (even among monsters) while also questioning a system that sets those who are caught up in it to fail.

This is never more apparent than in Jonsson’s soulful depiction of Taylor - a character whose back story smacks of desperation and lack of opportunity. It was as a result of his addiction and dealing that he ended up in prison, following the death of two party-goers he supplied to (in a bid to provide for his newborn child).

But his addiction has got even worse inside.

Early on, Jonsson exudes the vibe of a man who realises the hopelessness of his situation, which makes his shot at freedom and the threat that subsequently hangs over it all the more tragic.

The irony is that Taylor can either allow that tragedy to consume him as well as - potentially - those he loves, or become something even worse in order to avoid that fate.

It’s just bad lack that he winds up sharing a cell with someone so dangerous and volatile.

Jonsson is a powerful and enigmatic presence throughout, as well as incredibly versatile. It’s easy to see why he is landing such high profile roles.

But Blyth is just as good. His Dee a force of nature, prone to horrific acts of violence seemingly at the flick of a switch, and always seeking to gain an edge over everyone around him. But Blyth also offers fleeting insights into a back story that’s probably equally tragic, such as during an exchange with Taylor about sons and loves - the major difference being that Dee only allows the vulnerability to be exposed for a second (possibly wiping away a tear at one point). And you fear for Taylor whenever he reveals too much. Because everything is currency.

Blyth and Jonsson work terrifically well together but their relationship is the antithesis of other prison-based movies such as The Shawshank Redemption. One is dominant; the other governed by fear. It’s an uneasy dynamic that further adds to the film’s tension.

Other supporting characters drift in and out, including one or two prison guards who offer Taylor advice about how to prepare for life on the outside (fully aware of the challenges he will face), as well as Taylor’s son (keen for a reunion), and Paul and Gaz - two equally violent men, prone to vicious acts, yet one of whom belatedly reveals himself to be a dad (even wishing Taylor good fortune in his life outside of prison, in a rare show of compassion and kinship).

Wasteman frequently chills by virtue of its authenticity. You can well imagine the sense of desperation that inhabits its characters, while the toxic masculinity at play is stifling and scary.

McMau’s film is a cautionary tale as well as a morality play. It exposes a system at creaking point, which arguably fails more than it rehabilitates (at least in the worst, most overcrowded prisons).

There are pockets of hope. But they’re hard earned. And by the time you reach the nerve-shredding finale, you’ll be dying to get out.

This is a powerhouse British filmmaking at its unflinching, socially relevant best. It impresses on just about every level.

Certificate: 18

Running time: 95mins