British prisons are under record levels of pressure with inmate overcrowding, reduced staffing of onsite officers and poor, unmaintained infrastructure. Yet, there are few and far between films that have broken out to mainstream audiences in a compelling and honest way. Historically, films like Scum (1979) and The Escapist (2008) have become cult classics for exploring the prison system in the UK, but they barely made a dent internationally. Cal McMau’s directorial debut, Wasteman (2025), is already showing promise after its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival. But now that it is out in UK cinemas and a limited release is planned in the United States on April 17, does it have what it takes to captivate audiences globally?
After being institutionalised for almost 13 years, Taylor (David Jonsson) is given the opportunity to make parole. Everything seems to be going on track for him, having the privacy of no cellmate and using the tools at his disposal to make his prison sentence more bearable, until a new inmate, Dee (Tom Blyth), is allocated to his cell. Taylor is forced to adapt to Dee’s erratic, amoral behavior.
Wasteman marks Jonsson’s first feature film role since winning the EE Rising Star Award last year at the BAFTAs, and he makes no mistake about reaffirming his star quality as Taylor in the film. There are often moments where we are confronted with Taylor without dialogue, watching him react to the shift in environment that Dee involuntarily causes. Jonsson perfectly conveys the anxiousness and vulnerability his character experiences within these quiet moments, juxtaposing with everyone else in the film who present hard exteriors. It is during these sequences that we feel most sympathetic towards Taylor’s circumstances.
On the other hand, Blyth brings the absolute opposite to Dee in all the best ways. He constantly flips between being the most dangerous and the most loyal person in the room at any given instance. You can tell he has a heart beyond the rude boy persona he presents to the world. At the same time, Blyth effortlessly delves into the contractual way Dee views relationships, unsolicitedly carrying out a generous act for you with the expectation that you will unequivocally do the same without being asked. There is substantial depth that Blyth brings to his performance that can be hard to balance well, but he utterly nails the characterisation of someone who has clearly only known the prison system for their whole life.
Jonsson and Blyth’s contrasting portrayals are what make their on-screen dynamic work so well. Scenes where Dee’s volatility is confronting Taylor’s need for stability are the most enthralling to witness. Both actors demonstrate that fear and doubt always exist in their friendship, even though it may appear like they are on good terms with one another. The continued push and pull we see throughout is a testament to how Jonsson and Blyth are able to feed off of each other in the many scenes that they share together.
McMau’s direction is strong, vivid and gripping. Drawing inspiration from his short Bossman (2017), he effectively mixes vertical footage shot on a phone with traditional horizontally shot footage. Where this would feel jarring in other films, McMau understands that the phone shot footage is authentic to experiences in prison, where prisoners would have access to smartphones, recording their day-to-day lives. Audiences cannot help but be completely immersed in this world because of this.
Writers Hunter Andrews and Eoin Doran recognize the challenges that the UK prison system faces and subtly interweave them into the story rather than spelling it out to us. By trusting the audience to pick up on the context cues of corruption and carelessness in institutions like these, the climax between Dee and Taylor pays off in a larger way, as the focus is always shifted to them. Yet, when you leave the theatre, at the forefront of your mind is the idea that the system failed to do the very thing they are set out to achieve, rehabilitation. Andrews and Doran execute thought-provoking storytelling at its finest.
Where there is a lot of absence in dialogue, music producer and composer Forest Swords fills the silence with an electric soundtrack. From the very opening sequence, he captures the gritty atmosphere of the narrative in ways that the script and visuals simply cannot. It’s modern and mesmerizing, with standout pieces being Panic and Crow. I have not been able to stop listening to them since seeing the film.
Cinematographer Lorenzo Levrini uses the claustrophobia of filming primarily in the prison to his advantage. Not only do we feel the building pressure during high-stakes sequences through the compactness of close-up angles, but we are also subjected to powerful assertions of the power dynamics between our lead actors through shots that position them above or below one another in the wing, where they are held. The film is riddled with striking imagery that makes an already engaging experience just that extra bit more exciting.
Wasteman offers its viewers a refreshing and elevated depiction of the inner workings of prisons in the UK, cementing McMau as a promising filmmaker to certainly keep our eye on. If British filmmakers produced features with half as much style as this one, the future of cinema in the UK is exhilarating and limitless.
Review Courtesy of Nandita Joshi
Courtesy of Lionsgate UK via The Playlist