David Jonsson plays long term convict Taylor. A timid drug addict, he cuts the hair of the top-dog inmates in return for a regular fix and is existing rather than living as the years of his sentence tick by when he gets some unexpected news. Prison overcrowding means he is up for early release, provided he can keep his nose clean for a couple of weeks, something made increasingly tricky by the arrival of his new cellmate Dee (Tom Blyth). Dee encourages Taylor to make contact with his estranged son and uses his connections to get their cell kitted out with everything from games consoles to an air fryer, but his desire to peddle drugs and make moves to run the block creates an increasingly volatile environment.
Wasteman is propelled through its trim ninety minute runtime by two powerhouse performances. Since bursting onto the big screen with 2023's Rye Lane, David Jonsson has pretty much only put up banger performances and this is another feather in a cap that is turning avian very quickly. Detached, passive and beaten down by incarceration, Taylor seems in no shape to navigate the dangerous waters he finds himself in. He invokes pity and frustration in equal measure and Jonsson transmits fear and desperation with nuance and complete believability. He also conveys the subtle undercurrents of waters that may run deeper than they seem.
Blyth is equally as good. Dee could easily have been a simple antagonist but both the script and the performer have much bigger ambitions. Marking his territory from the moment he struts on screen, he is charismatic and doubly terrifying but he also has his own story. We are shown just enough cracks in the facade to know we are dealing with a real human being trying to get by in his own way and there are moments of genuine closeness between the two leads that frame the story as a tragedy more than anything else.
That tragedy is the crux of the movie. The razor's edge violence is underpinned by a complex humanity, as people form bonds one minute and are at each other's throats the next. There is a real sense that even the toughest of characters on display would rather be in a situation where they could just get along with everyone. Its a classic "the system is the bad guy" tale, with the institution in question being an archaic justice system that pits people against each other like animals in a jungle and is completely focused on punishment with scant regard paid to rehabilitation.
The outdated nature of the prison is shown on screen with flakes of ancient paint, crumbling brick and barely functioning windows. We are also shown the modern side of prison life, with social media videos in the style that real prisoners make intercutting the story. The camera is always close in on the action, with first time director Cal McMau creating a sense of claustrophobia and immediacy that adds to the discomfort.
Lasering in on that feeling of stress and discomfort is the name of the game here and the character's story takes precedence over the societal observation. As such, the film leaves many of the systemic factors of prison life off the table. There is no discussion of class, race or the outside inequality that creates such a harsh environment. This may make any statement the film makes feel limited to some, but this short sharp gut-punch will likely have more of an impact on a larger portion of the audience than a scientifically in depth critique of the justice system ever could.
That's really what we have here, a short, sharp slice of locked up life and the corners it forces people into. It also serves as a showcase for two of England's best young actors and a calling card for an exciting new director.
8 cell parties out of 10
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