Film Reviews & Movie Analysis

Cal McMau’s directorial debut reframes the conventional British prison drama through an inmate, weeks from release, and his volatile new cellmate who puts his parole at risk. Wasteman introduces us to a society governed by rules and weaves in an unexpected moral weight. Life on the inside exists on a knifes edge; consequences are life-threatening, and a survival instinct is paramount.

There’s an instinctive tension to Wasteman — which says less about the film itself and more about its setting. Prison films come preloaded with unease, and Wasteman knows exactly how to heighten those preconceived emotions. What the movie does incredibly well is trap the audience within the prison’s walls. We live and breathe according to the inner workings of our new life; the shifting, slippery hierarchies and the provisionality of power.

Social media and video messaging is expertly used to transport us over the wire barbed walls. Though this barely scrapes the surface of what being imprisoned must feel like, it adds a relatable sense of yearning for freedom.

David Jonsson, plays a cowardly long-term resident close to release who is placed with a temperamental rule skirting Tom Blyth. Both performances are standout and together the duo make an charged pair.

The claustrophobia between Jonsson and Blyth is layered: the prison itself, their shared room, Blyth encroaching on space with his mountain of goods, and their height disparity. Blyth looms over Jonsson with piercing blue eyes laced with menace and brings an unpredictable intensity that keeps both Jonsson and the audience permanently on edge. Alongside Blyth’s volatility is the sense of a ticking clock; we count down the days until Jonsson’s release and pray he survives before Blyth can irrevocably mess things up.

Urban Dictionary defines a wasteman as, someone who does nothing with their life. Someone worthless. The film interrogates that definition through the profile of its inmates, and invites us to consider that just because you have done nothing with your life, so far, does that mean it’s too late to change?

The film is particularly sharp when it observes the different people caught within the system: varying sentence lengths, varying levels of complacency, and the quiet tragedy of those who no longer believe they can be anything more than what society has labelled them. There is an effecting moment of vulnerability from Blyth’s character that adds to this conversation and makes the audience feel a pang of sympathy.

But life in prison is still life and despite a warped pride in their status as inmates, parties, phones, snacks and moments laced with humour — including a hilarious moment with an inmate proudly live-posting about another transfer — debut writers, Hunter Andrews and Eoin Doran, do a fantastic job of making sure the levity never washes away the relentless wash of grey in this existence.

Wasteman takes you on a ride — mostly one where you feel faintly nauseous and constantly press your fingers to your neck to check your racing heart. But it succeeds in something far more important: capturing the humanity in the ecosystem of a British prison with control, nuance and authenticity.

How do you feel about prison dramas – will you be adding Wasteman to your watch list?

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