Certificate: 18
Running Time: 90 mins
UK Distributor: Lionsgate
UK Release Date: 20 February 2026
David Jonsson, Tom Blyth, Corin Silva, Alex Hassell, Neil Linpow, Keaton Ancona-Francis, Layton Blake, Paul Hilton
Cal McMau (director), Hunter Andrews and Eoin Doran (writers), Sophia Gibber and Myles Payne (producers), Forest Swords (composer), Lorenzo Levrini (cinematographer), James Demetriou and Ryan Morrison (editors)
A prisoner (Jonsson) finds his freedom threatened with the arrival of a new cellmate (Blyth)…
The best prison films in existence, from The Shawshank Redemption to Papillon, often have a heartfelt friendship between two very different inmates at its centre, to give the viewer an emotional centre to latch onto amidst the otherwise bleak atmosphere. “Challenge accepted,” director Cal McMau surely thought to himself when deciding to make his feature debut with Wasteman, in which there is indeed a main connection between a pair of prisoners – but Red and Andy Dufresne, they most certainly are not.
McMau’s impressively taut thriller, as written by Hunter Andrews and Eoin Doran, completely throws the prison rule book at the viewer’s expectations by presenting its two main figures not as hopeful or even remorseful individuals, but rather as pathetic and extremely volatile nutcases with few redeeming qualities between them. There’s a hostility among them that makes Wasteman such a tense viewing experience, while also opening up deeper conversations about how fundamentally broken the prison system surrounding them truly is, enough to nurture some truly monstrous tendencies among those who are unfortunate enough to be sentenced to such conditions.
The film opens with Taylor (David Jonsson), an inmate who’s been serving thirteen years, learning that he’s being considered for imminent parole on the basis that he maintains his streak of good behaviour. Impeccable timing, then, for him to suddenly get himself a new cellmate in the form of Dee (Blyth), who is very much everything that Taylor isn’t: assertive, violent, psychopathic, and most crucially a troublemaker. He’s the last thing that Taylor needs whilst he is doing what he can to secure his release, but Dee’s easy swagger – on top of his endless supply of drugs which the addicted Tyler cannot resist – causes an uneasy bond to form between the two. That is, until certain violent encounters with prison wardens and fellow inmates threaten to jeopardise Taylor’s chances of a fresh start, leading to an increasingly tense battle of wits as they try to survive their environment, but most of all each other.
At numerous junctions throughout Wasteman, you feel just as incarcerated as Taylor, Dee and their contemporaries are, with the majority of the action taking place entirely within these prison walls, where the figurative and literal cracks are as visible as the strikingly bland grey concrete surrounding everyone. McMau and cinematographer Lorenzo Levrini frame the film in a noticeably boxy 2:3 aspect ratio, further amplifying the claustrophobic nature of this environment and constantly creating a sense of unease, even when we’re in a seemingly safe and secure cell along with our two main characters. There are also various vignettes where we see footage recorded on prisoners’ smuggled-in phones that capture disturbing acts of violence with an unsettling realism, almost like you’re scrolling through TikTok and have found yourself on a much darker feed that you probably shouldn’t have access to.
The filmmaking really puts you in a deep discomfort, especially as you see how badly the system is failing to control such volatility among prisoners who, at any moment, could lunge at you with death in their eyes. The overcrowding of this particular prison is more than apparent when we first see life among these cells – in fact, it is because there are such limited spaces that Taylor is being considered for early release – while the wardens might as well not even be there, for they leave such a little presence that it’s almost as though the prisoners have retained complete authority over their domain. Drones can hover just outside a barred window carrying all sorts of contraband, and nobody would batter an eyelid, which in a sense means that Taylor is probably worrying about nothing about maintaining his good behaviour, especially if the surveillance in this establishment is already this lax. Of course, a film like Wasteman is hardly the first of its kind to address the various glaring flaws and oversights in our current justice system, but McMau frames these issues with a raw intensity that addresses how rotten these conditions are while still drawing attention to the suspenseful narrative that he initially draws us in with.
Furthermore, the performances by both Jonsson and Blyth are outstanding in how they create this twisted odd-couple dynamic in ways that initially make sense as to why they’re drawn to one another in the first place. Neither of their characters are defined by single characteristics, with the quiet and amiable Taylor consumed by addition and a slightly unhealthy attachment to his now-teenage son who he’s never truly known, and even Dee shows a more vulnerable side away from his aggressive tendencies that suggests a frightened young boy hiding underneath the tattoos and menacing stare-downs. Both actors excellently hint at their respective characters’ deeper insecurities as they also lean into their more visible traits, and even as Andrews and Doran’s script take things one or two logical steps too far in an otherwise highly suspenseful third act, the performers are so compelling that you’re still along for the bumpier ride towards a bittersweet ending.
In all, this is an impressive debut feature for McMau who, with a keen eye for addressing key societal issues through claustrophobic filmmaking and an ability to get the best performances possible out of two extremely magnetic actors, announces himself as a disruptor to certain genre norms. In this case, the notion that prison movies feature friendships that help rather than hurt the two inmates at their bleak centre.
Wasteman is an impressive debut by director Cal McMau, who flips the typical prison movie dynamic into a tense and claustrophobic battle of wits between two superbly acted lead characters, while addressing particular issues within the wider justice system without taking away from the narrative suspense.
0 Comments