Cinema has always been the breeding ground for fascinating and controversial stories on a number of occasions, and one area that has been of profound interest to me is that of Neo-Nazism – of course, this is more a historical fascination, but it has always been an area that has given us some tremendous films – and we can look at the various actors who have had their breakthrough roles playing malicious white supremacists – Russell Crowe in Romper Stomper, Ryan Gosling in The Believer and Edward Norton in American History X. However, the most potent and perhaps most deeply unsettling comes in the form of Alan Clarke’s Made in Britain, a television play starring Tim Roth in his debut performance as a vicious, violent Neo-Nazi who is apprehended and forced to pay the cost for his crimes. Far more than just the archetypal after-school special its description would lead you to believe, Made in Britain is one of the most harrowing social dramas I’ve seen, a gritty realist tale that evokes a panoply of emotions and leads us on a journey into the mind of a truly despicable person. I was expecting a film that would at least provoke though – I was not expecting such a dark, deeply disturbing morality tale – and for this reason alone, Made in Britain is a true masterwork.

Trevor (Tim Roth) is a sixteen-year-old Neo-Nazi and street thug who, at the outset of the film, has been caught after an attack on a local Pakistani shop-owner. He is to be brought to justice, but as he is underage, he is forced to spend six weeks at a residential assessment facility, where he will be observed by a number of specialists and authorities, who will make the best decision as to what Trevor’s ultimate fate would be – would he be allowed to re-enter society and atone for his sins, or would he be sent straight to prison, perhaps the only place that someone like Trevor truly belongs. Despite being under the careful watch of professionals trained to curb reckless and violent behaviour, Trevor still manages to wreak havoc, negatively influencing his roommate, and perpetually abandoning the residence to walk the streets in anarchic violence, attacking anyone who even slightly upsets him, and trying to get revenge on someone – and whoever it is that Trevor is angry towards isn’t ever made clear. It could be his unseen parents, who have made it very clear they don’t want to have Trevor as their responsibility. Could it be the people who sent him to this assessment facility, hoping for rehabilitation, rather foolishly thinking that Trevor can change? Or is Trevor angry at himself, for allowing his ego and his carnal, chaotic desires, to take the forefront in his behaviour? The intricacies of Trevor’s mind are left relatively ambigious – but one thing is made abundantly clear: Trevor is a very dangerous young man, but he’s certainly not the only one.

Tim Roth has become one of his generation’s most reliable character actors, and in an array of films ranging from major works to more independent features, Roth has been a consistently great presence. Not too long ago, I encountered another television play with Roth as the lead, Mike Leigh’s absolutely sublime drama Meantime – and along with Made in Britain, these were the formative moments in Roth’s career, and they certainly could not be more different. Made in Britain is an audacious debut performance for Roth, who is quite brilliant at playing the troubled teenager. It actually becomes quite terrifying how brutally real this performance is, and Roth goes to great lengths to portray this character as inexplicably evil, just a despicable, egotistical street urchin whose encounter with the law was imminent. Trevor is the kind of person that was destined for prison from adolescence, and his punishment, while potentially quite harsh, is entirely justified. The character is so complex, and Roth had the responsibility to take on the major character (I wouldn’t dare call him the protagonist, or even the anti-hero, which does have a more positive connotation) without giving him any redeeming qualities – and he is absolutely astonishing. If this isn’t the very definition of a powerful, lived-in performance, then nothing else is. Roth is so deft in depicting this character and his struggles in a way that is potent without being sympathetic. Considering the standard he set for his career with Made in Britain, it is hardly surprising that Roth has since given some truly extraordinary performances in a range of films that certainly manage to convey his idiosyncratic talents perfectly.

Made in Britain occupies the artistic movement commonly referred to as kitchen-sink realism, and alongside Mike Leigh and Ken Loach, Alan Clarke was one of the true stalwarts of the genre, crafting a variety of works centred on the working class – and both visually and narratively, Made in Britain is an astonishingly authentic achievement. Running at a mere 72 minutes, and filmed on a clear shoestring budget, it is evident how the primary intention of this film, above everything else, is to be genuine. This film was made as a cautionary tale that represents the darker side of society, and it just would not have worked nearly as well had it been polished and without flaws. Certainly terrifying, this film owes its unsettling nature to the gritty, almost shockingly brutal execution. Clarke was a remarkable social commentator – all of his films took direct aim at society and its multitudes of problems, and while none of them proposes to resolve all of society’s issues, they do show the hideous hedonism and shocking violence that is not normally demonstrated in such explicit honesty. Made in Britain is not a pleasant film, but it is certainly an essential one.

In talking of the morality of Made in Britain, it is important to note that like much of Clarke’s work, as well as the work of his contemporaries, this is a film about a despicable person, and even though he occupies the central role, Trevor is not given any redeeming qualities. There is not an admirable character in this entire film – even the authorities are shown to be hedonistic and overly violent and lack any compassion (however, when you have to deal with someone like Trevor, kindness is not the most effective method). There is a complete lack of a pleasant resolution, and the film intends almost solely to be about a single young man acting as a surrogate for an entire generation of troubled teens, acting in ways that are truly despicable – and rather than focusing on his voyage to self-realization, Clarke and screenwriter Leland instead opt to take the daring approach to outwardly note that sometimes rehabilitation just cannot happen, and in Made in Britain, we just see Trevor descend into every more disturbing behaviour. No matter how much others try and help him, Trevor always ends up reverting back to his old self.

Made in Britain is one of the most powerful British films to come out of the 1980s. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be viewed as a broad-reaching masterwork, clearly being intended for a specific audience, a cautionary tale to the dangers of delinquency, both to the victims and the perpetrator himself. It is a harrowing film that is extremely potent in how it presents its story, finding a rare brilliance in a very gritty, disturbing story. The outlook towards this film is not positive, but it is certainly a very essential film. Tim Roth is incredible, as are some of the other actors who have some terrific moments themselves (one only needs to recall the centrepiece scene of the film, where Trevor and one of the assessment officers engage in passionate monologues about society). As a whole, Made in Britain is a film that truly makes an impact, and confirms that the kitchen-sink realism movement was one that profoundly changed the way we look at reality, and all of these films deserve re-evaluation, because they are not merely time-capsules of the era in which they were made, but also powerful statements on society that remains resonant right up until today.