There are certain genres that, despite tackling more intimidating or questionable subject matter, remain wildly popular for reasons that can sometimes be inexplicable at the best of times. However, once we unpack the psychology behind why we’re drawn to specific stories, it can become much easier to comprehend their popularity. Prison films are a dime a dozen, yet remain one of the more intriguing genres, especially since they can very easily take on many different forms. Understanding the reasons why we are fascinated by stories of people who have been sentenced to spend time behind bars (either for a specific period or indefinitely) is associated with the overall fascination we have with crime as a subject. None of us necessarily wants to experience the forcible loss of freedom that comes with being incarcerated, and it is in this tug-of-war between being glad that we are free, but also being morbidly curious about the dynamics that occur behind bars, that we find some terrific art being produced. This is where Cal McMau chooses to focus when making his directorial debut in the form of Wasteman, an intriguing character study about the trials and tribulations of a pair of prisoners currently being held in an overcrowded institution somewhere in the United Kingdom. The primary focus is on Taylor, a mild-mannered young man who has been serving a sentence for over a decade after being involved in the accidental overdose of a client. His new cellmate is Dee, a vicious and fearless man who decides to stake his claim as the dominant force in the institution, starting his own drug outfit that clashes with the quiet existence of Taylor, who is inadvertently reliant on another pair of drug dealers whom Dee begins to target. A very simple premise that quietly evolves into something darker and more profound, Wasteman is an effective film, one that may not necessarily challenge or provoke in the way that we may expect, but manages to be quite reliable throughout, making some valuable contributions to a genre that may not always be known for its innovation.

As with any prison drama, Wasteman is focused on a few key ideas relating to the relationship between those who have been locked away. These institutions are often seen as small microcosms of entire societies, where a clear hierarchy is established, and everyone has to fall in line in order to ensure that they remain where they belong. Anyone who defies this social order is punished, and the consequences are severe to say the least. There aren’t any ideas portrayed here that we’ve not seen elsewhere, and for this reason, we tend to look at Wasteman as a bit more of a conventional work, even when it is saying something very valuable. Unfortunately, there is only a finite number of stories that can be told about hardened criminals seeking justice for themselves, even if there is no ambiguity in the decision to place them under incarceration. What we do notice about this film is how McCau is not at all vague about how he portrays these characters – both Taylor and Dee are men who may be victims of society (coming of age at a very difficult point in history, where there were more negative influences on young men than ever before), but are still considered criminals, people who need to atone for their sins, neither of them putting up too much resistance. The focus here is not on whether or not they deserve to be in prison, but rather the dynamic between them – they exist at different points of their sentence, with Taylor being towards the end of his (granted he manages to achieve parole, which seems very likely at the start), whereas Dee has only just begun his sentence. Two nearly identical situations told from very different perspectives, the film explores how they maintain order, particularly in how Taylor’s plan to keep out of trouble, focusing instead on maintaining his reputation for being a model prisoner, comes into conflict with Dee’s more heavy-handed, brutal nature, which inevitably draws them into each other’s orbit, derailing their respective plans. It’s a harrowing film at times, but its observations on masculinity, unconventional friendships and the burden of existing under an unfair system are all intriguing.

Every few years, there is a vocal group that laments how there are so few young movie stars nowadays, complaining how the majority of notable roles for younger actors seem to be shared amongst a very small group of actors that are known and loved by the public. This is a hollow complaint, since there is more than enough proof outside of the mainstream that we’re witnessing the emergence of some exceptionally talented actors, and Wasteman feels like the kind of film that we’ll look back at in a few decades and marvel at how two of them were paired together. Very few actors of their generation have inspired as much sincere passion and conviction in their potential as David Jonsson and Tom Blyth, who have quietly emerged as major screen presences over the past few years. They were sudden discoveries, having worked before their breakthroughs with Rye Lane and Benediction (which led to them taking lead roles in two major mainstream franchises, namely Alien: Resurrection and The Hunger Games: A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, respectively), but they immediately drew our attention as a result of their exceptional work and ability to command the screen like very few of their peers. Wasteman is a small film, and one that many may consider to be a bit too intimate for actors who are at the point where they can demand more notable roles – but it’s in their willingness to take these more intimate productions that is most impressive. They’re both excellent in this film, easily taking on the parts of these men who find themselves in a challenging situation, and playing into a complex dynamic that is both compelling and terrifying. It’s a captivating two-hander, with Jonsson being the primary focus (since it is through his eyes that we see the story), and Blyth taking on the part of the antagonistic force that counteracts his more subdued approach. Both actors are fantastic and deliver stellar work that may not be overly difficult in theory, but has layers that they bring to the film that cannot be discounted; their work here is yet another tremendous addition to their fascinating mosaic of roles.

There are only a few ways to explore the hidden dynamics between prisoners, since it’s not the easiest subject to explore in terms of introducing clear innovation. What we do discover as the film progresses is that McCau is not against convention. He is a newcomer (this being his first credit overall), and therefore he is drawn from a lot of sources in terms of style and tone – and for a debut filmmaker, leaning heavily into previous works that inspired a film is not necessarily a bad decision, with the idea that everyone should be firing on all cylinders right from the start being something of a fallacy driven by the desire for innovation. The director instead focuses on telling a compelling story, one that centres around two characters navigating some intense challenges that are compounded by the already intimidating burden of existing in an institution where they will not only be punished by the system, but humiliated by those who surround them. McCau looks towards social realism as the foundation for Wasteman – in addition to having the aesthetic and tonal roots in British kitchen sink realism, it also has the quiet intensity of other prison films like Le trou and Cool Hand Luke, which may have various themes propelling them forward, but which are primarily attempts to observe the dynamic between prisoners as they make their way through their sentences. It’s a simple premise, but one that works exceptionally well – and while most of the film is driven by the performances of the actors (without Jonsson and Blyth doing terrific work, it would have been a complete misfire), we can at least appreciate how McCau sets out to elegantly examine the lives of these men as they navigate a very difficult situation. Most importantly, he resists trying to make the audience feel sympathy – we find both Taylor and Dee to be somewhat likeable (especially the former), but there is never a point where we feel like they are victims. Instead, they’re men who committed crimes and are forced to pay the consequences, and the quietly compassionate but harrowing depiction of their life in prison only further underlines this fact.

If for no other reason, Wasteman is a successful film in the fact that it takes the time to peer behind the iron curtain that divides the free world from those society has deemed too dangerous to be walking with the rest of us. For those who are fascinated by the social and cultural dynamics of prisons (which has become its own sub-genre in both fiction and documentary works – there are a staggering number of television series that centre around life in prison), the film is a strong entry into a genre that has only grown over time. It’s a peculiar experience to seek out works that offer insights into a situation that most of us will never witness for ourselves, nor would we ever want to be in such a position, but it does pique our curiosity, particularly in showing a very different side to a life where freedom – perhaps the most fundamental privilege we have – is taken away as a result of poor decisions. The film can be very conventional, but this is an instance where it does make sense to seek out new methods of storytelling, since what we are witnessing here is sufficient enough to hold our attention. It avoids being too heavy-handed in its messaging and captures a different side of human behaviour, one that examines unfamiliar dynamics and presents them in a complex, layered manner. Anchored by two exceptional performances and driven by a deep curiosity and underlying sincerity, Wasteman is a challenging and captivating film that doesn’t always seem all that original, but does more than enough to keep the audience invested, especially since it only runs 90 minutes and therefore has very little time to lean too heavily into anything other than the bare essentials. A well-crafted, insightful drama that is both gritty and profound, the film introduces an exciting new voice in cinema, and underlines the excellent work being done by its leads, all of which proves that the future of cinema is in good hands.