Directed By Cal McMau
Starring – David Jonsson, Tom Blyth, Alex Hassell
The Plot – Follows parolee Taylor (Jonsson) whose fresh start hopes are jeopardized by cellmate Dee’s (Blyth) arrival. As Dee takes Taylor under his wing, a vicious attack tests their bond, forcing Taylor to choose between protecting Dee and his own parole chances.
Rated R for adult language and brutal sequences of violence
POSITIVES
Like many prison-set drama’s before it, Wasteman carries with it all of the self-contained claustrophobia and unpredictable x-factor that atmospherically entices audiences into unfamiliar territory, but what truly sets it apart from the abundance of inferior predecessors is the masterful first time direction from Cal McMau, who makes up for in blood-curdling anxiety and creative framing choices what he lacks in long term experience, helping to elicit a relentlessly tense experience that never withers or stalls in the extent of its brief-but-impactful 85 minute runtime. Considering this was a film that was initially rumored to be helmed by the Safdie brothers, before they eventually went on to steer Uncut Gems, there’s proof in the proverbial pudding why McMau was considered the next best available option, not only with vitally underlining energy that helps fight off the unavoidable repetition of its structural outline, even alongside intimately subdued conversations between father and son, but also in the articulation of its single stage setting behind bars, that urgently conveys the immediacy and delicacy of the incarceration system, particularly in the overabundant ratio of prisoners to guards that emits a total lack of transparency to transpiring contraband persisting under the unknowing eyes of authorities, while cementing an overwhelming vulnerability to involved characters risking literally everything for another day of untethered survival. This is especially the case for the friendship at the movie’s forefront, where the eased-in dynamic between Taylor and Dee helps to overwrite the unforeseen complexities of opening up to a complete stranger, where the irresponsibly clumsy acts of information distributed from Taylor to Dee stands as a means of finally being able to openly communicate with his son, without fully grasping the kind of power that our established protagonist has given his new roommate, and while co-writers Hunter Andrews and Eoin Doran certainly thrive on the shifting power dynamics between these cellmates, especially once their honeymoon phase ends abruptly, it’s really Taylor’s freedom that serves as the circumstantial stakes to what continuously hangs overhead throughout his direct status in between this corresponding drug war taking shape within this prison, where the slightest devious deed realized by those in charge could compromise the previous thirteen years that he’s worked so hard for, nevertheless putting his life in danger while toeing the line equally, so as not to disrespect one side or the other. While the film definitely revels in the combustible powder keg of pressure from the established set-up, that feels like it’s set to blow at any minute with McMau’s mounting direction, what’s endearingly evident is the immersive value pertaining to the movie’s cinematography from Lorenzo Levrini, in all of its tightly constrained 4:3 aspect ratio glory, getting so closely intimate with the characters that the occasional saliva or even blood splattering finds its way to the impact with the lens. The framing gets even tighter during a number of memorable sequences and montages that are filmed artistically on phone cameras, which is the single biggest addition that Wasteman makes to the genre, with many of its most violent moments shot that way in order to make them feel unsettlingly realistic and even sadistic while the characters gloat over their vengeful brutality in the same ways that everyday people make videos of them singing to popular songs. During the film’s initial use of the gimmick, I worried that the tight framing would obscure insight into the physicality of its conflicts, but in reality it effectively renders the immediacy of the inhumane conditions at the prison while establishing a gateway to the outside world that the characters are no longer a part of, granting a sadly depraved sense of ideal importance to its experimental artistry, that feels like a character of its own involved in the mayhem, and not just another uniquely gripping framing device that thinks outside of the box, in order to further set it apart from many of the other British prison dramas before it. The technical mastery also carries over to the otherworldly bass-boosting score from Forrest Swords, whose harshly invigorating instrumental compositions craft an edgy persistence to the beating repetition that is at its very best sonically entrancing. The many deposited themes perfectly fits the intended vibe that McMau’s direction anxiously breeds for the anticipatory inevitability of the film, certifying a chillingly bold statement of sounds that feel as close to a manufactured panic attack as possible, without anything even closely resembling spoon-fed sentiments to intrude upon the candid interpretations of the audience. Last but certainly not least, the performances from David Jonsson and Tom Blyth help to add structural support to the friendship that serves as the crux for all of the movie’s chaos, allowing for a variety of scene-stealing instances of one upmanship between them that truly help to elevate the already effective material. Between meaningful turns in Alien: Romulus and The Long Walk, Jonsson already shows no signs of slowing down, but his turn here as Taylor takes his talents to a whole other level, featuring highly expressive eyes and a gentle demeanor that effortlessly appraise empathy and earnestness in the distinguishment of the depiction, while Blyth impresses with an unrecognizable revelation of a turn that calibrates his natural charisma into something maniacal, making it just as easy to feel charmingly manipulated by his advantageous intentions, as it can be paralyzing by the gripping relentlessness that he unloads during Dee’s most confrontational of moments.
NEGATIVES
Very little about Wasteman feels even periodically conflicting with the level of unforgettable impact that the production team landed to such a special kind of experience, but if I’m being entirely honest in my nitpicking, I will say that the script occasionally stumbles on its uses of genre-heavy tropes, that hinder its growth in terms of both originality and convenience, the latter of which took some excessive suspension of disbelief during the movie’s ending to fully buy where it resolved itself. This is not to say that I was disappointed or unfulfilled by the movie’s closing moments, as I feel the final shot of the film is certainly the most meaningful frame of the entire engagement, it’s just that it rushes some of its finer details after the blow-off of a conflict, that in turn eviscerates the realism of the situation, where an additional ten minutes could’ve done wonders in smoothing out the details, without compromising any of the steam that evaporated in the atmosphere after said resolution. Beyond this, my only other problem with the film pertained to the aforementioned socio-political commentary of the deteriorating prison system, which might resonate effectively in some scattered observations that paint a cause to the maniacal effects, but doesn’t delve any deeper in making it such a vitally endearing aspect to McMau’s broad strokes in symbolism, leaving it a wasted opportunity of expansive intelligence among the frenzy that could’ve implored a projective outlook to the outdated ideals of the incarceration system, but instead rested on the laurels of what’s already understood about its improper prioritizing. While it’s clear that McMau was more concerned about making an impact by leveling the vulnerability of its characters to the audience, a more experienced director would’ve corresponded it with something savory to chew on, but instead Wasteman maintains faithfulness to its claustrophobic framing device, as a means of keeping too many irons from burning in the creative fire, in turn refusing a chance to articulate a bigger and broader substantial picture about the cons of the system that extends far beyond those contained and working within the prison.
OVERALL
Wasteman is an authentically raw and anxiously gritty diamond of a debut from Cal McMau, whose claustrophobically contained freneticism and duo of top tier performances help to cement a heart-pounding engagement that continuously keeps you guessing until the speculative end, even as genre-built cliches threaten to squander its searing statement. Elevated by some cunningly experimental deviations to the movie’s framing devices, as well as commanding power struggle within the confines of a toxic friendship, the film unfolds with the immediacy and heft of a top-speed locomotive, and one whose meticulously crafted tension keeps it barreling on the tracks, leveling anyone and everything in its wake with the kind of high stakes drama and top-speed storytelling that never relents in its impact, even long after the film concludes
My Grade: 8.6 or A-