David Jonsson (left) as Taylor and Tom Blyth as Dee. Image: James A. Demetriou

Upon exiting the cinema, after watching Wasteman, I was shaking. My fellow screen buddies and I had such a visceral reaction to the film; it was by far one of the most intense and anxiety-inducing films I have ever had the pleasure of watching (in the least masochistic way possible). It is a hot-blooded British prison drama that calls attention to the threatening realities that come to light when you show vulnerability in a hyper-masculine environment. 

Wasteman was one of my most anticipated films of the year, being a fan of both, David Jonsson (Rye Lane, The Long Walk) and, Tom Blyth (The Hunger Games: Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes) I knew that we were in for a treat, from the trailer alone, you get a sense of claustrophobia, and pure adrenaline, that is prominent through the whole 90 minutes of the film. The entire crew and cast are powerhouses in driving forward the harsh narrative of the British prison system and in creating an authentic representation of the current state of UK prisons. And most importantly, it’s failure to rehabilitate inmates, and the dangers that arise from this. 

At the core of the film, we follow Taylor (David Jonsson), a softly spoken inmate who is serving an unrelenting sentence of over a decade for petty crime. Taylor remains a fly-on-the-wall by cutting his fellow inmates’ hair, avoiding trouble, whilst taking the occasional pill to help dull the mundanity of his day-to-day life. We learn that Taylor has a young boy on the outside whom he hasn’t seen since he was a baby, and uses this connection to keep his head down and earn an early parole, albeit the early parole is due to the overpopulated prison; however, with continued good behaviour, the prospect of freedom is closer than he originally thought…That is, until his new cellmate, Dee (Tom Blyth), enters the scene and casts a dark shadow on his future. Hungry for power and a need to be the ringleader of the prison’s verboten drug trade, Dee is dangerous to Taylor’s rep; however, with his manipulative charm, Dee lures Taylor in with the promise of protection and a connection to his now-teenage son. With his release date growing ever closer, Taylor faces an impossible mandate: should he stay on good terms with his cellmate and risk everything he’s worked for, or prioritise his own future?

We are first greeted when the film opens with low-res hand-held phone footage of an attack on one of the inmates, where he ultimately ends up having a television smashed over his head. It is from then onwards that you can’t catch your breath, nor get over the claustrophobia of the story. With little-to-no backstory for any of the characters, we get straight into the dialogue, and with emotions flying high, they’re projected onto the audience, which makes for a raw and intimate viewing experience. The characters’ emotions mostly play out in Taylor and Dee’s cell, if not there, in the main common area, where we are swarmed by prisoners, and the camera hovers uncomfortably close to bodies, which perfectly encapsulates the suffocating nature of prison life. The use of hand-held phone footage from the prisoners themselves is used frequently throughout the film, whether that’s to film recurring fights or illicit drug deals. 

Drawing on the performances of both Jonsson and Blyth, their characters’ conflicting personalities create an uneasy presence that feels like a constricting weight on your chest. Taylor’s inconspicuous presence is formed by his body language: his shoulders are constantly hunched, and his eyes are constantly averted, pointed to the ground. There is zero aggression in his character; instead, he focuses on remaining unseen and longs to see his son again. Constrastingly, before we even see Dee, we can hear him jeering at other prisoners and guards alike. Eventually, he swaggers into the cell, carrying a handful of designer clothes. Far from Taylor’s reserved approach to his fellow inmates, Dee is not one to fly under the radar and blend in. His loud, booming voice constantly demands attention from guards and other prisoners, allowing him to gain popularity within inner circles and to disrupt the previously established hierarchy.  

Wasteman does more than just document the brutal police system; it involves the viewer and inserts them into the cell with its daunting main characters. It is a tough watch, and with little-to-zero breaks for a breath, Wasteman will leave you cringing and on the edge of your seat, and will keep you gripped until the credits roll.