Stephen Graham in Tough but Tender Youth Prison Drama

It’s not easy trying to reinvent the prison movie given the regularity with which most of the world’s major film industries grind them out. But every so often, one comes along that adheres to the basic template of the genre while shrugging off the formulaic elements, electrifying it with probing psychology, unpredictable character dynamics and unexpected intimacy — alongside the shocking violence. David McKenzie’s explosive Starred Up is a relatively recent example that comes to mind.

Actor-turned director Ashley Walters’ impressive feature debut Animol can’t match that 2013 drama’s Shakespearean muscularity. But it has power, ferocity, almost unbearable tension and a vein of tenderness that make it belong in the same conversation. It also shares a queer thread with Starred Up that’s best not detailed here, beyond saying that it’s gratifyingly surprising, handled with empathy and shaded in gray rather than black and white. An impressive young principal cast of mostly unfamiliar faces is another plus.

Walters and screenwriter Nick Love establish their savvy grasp of narrative economy within the opening scene. Over a black screen, a scuffle is heard, indicating what appears to be a robbery that goes badly wrong for the crew, which leads to an impulsive and much more serious crime.

Troy (Tut Nyuot) arrives at a detention center for young offenders in Northeast England, with a face that could mean stony silence or deer-in-the-headlights terror. He’s a tall, solidly built guy but he has the unsure air of a boy, something he will have to lose fast. Placed in a holding cell before being processed, he starts a timid conversation with Krystiyan (Vladyslav Baliuk), a spindly Polish kid who seems grateful for the overture.

But the mood shifts abruptly when Dion (Sekou Diaby) swaggers in, making it known that he’s very much at home there and wasting little time before deciding which of the newbies is going to be his bitch. Troy gets the unwanted honor, which comes with a degrading task that puts him at risk of being branded as trouble even before he gets into the uniform. In a split-second decision during which instinct triggers instant loyalty, Krys creates a distraction that allows Troy’s reluctant transgression to go undetected, putting him in Dion’s good books, at least for now.

Any illusions that an incarceration facility for young offenders will be much different from a high security adult prison are quickly dispelled. The noise alone, the constant yelling and fighting and clanging of metal, communicate that this is an ugly cauldron of undiluted testosterone and hostility, ready to boil over at any time.

Troy’s introduction to the place is made more unsettling by the cellmate with whom he finds himself, Mason (Ryan Dean), a menacing-looking Shia LaBeouf type with lots of face tatts. Mason gives him a somewhat civilized welcome but has too much bristling nervous energy to be trusted. Sure enough, he randomly picks a fight in the dining hall with Krys, threatening the guards with a shiv when they break it up. That brings Educational Welfare Officer Claypole (the always fantastic Stephen Graham, who appeared with Walters in Adolescence) to defuse the situation.

Claypole is quick to notice when Troy starts doing jobs for Dion, and sharp enough to realize that the new prisoner is doing nothing of his own volition. From Troy’s files, Claypole learns he was in a children’s home and informs him that his estranged mother, Joy (Sharon Duncan Brewster), has requested visiting rights.

She’s a former junkie, who made serious mistakes when Troy was growing up, so despite assurances that she’s been clean for a year, he wants nothing to do with her. But she persists, leading to some poignant scenes that never take the standard turns. Joy is also a welcome vibrant light from the outside world, with her cool tattoos and piercings, her elaborate swirl of braids and sexy, blingy outfits.

The first visit goes south and Troy is so upset he loses his cool in the rec room, messing up Mason with a broken pool cue during another incident with Krys. Once he gets out of isolation, he has two dangerous thugs to watch out for — Mason, who clearly will be looking for payback, and crafty manipulator Dion, who continues finding ways to keep Troy under his thumb.

He assigns Troy to pick up drone drops of drugs in the prison yard, which he manages to pull off with Krys’ help as a decoy, again creating a distraction. Despite Dion’s superstitious prejudices about “gypsy” curses, Troy convinces him to make Krys part of the crew. They both start spending time in Dion’s cell, which is like a corner-office suite — part drug den, part fight club. Guards are presumably being bought off to turn a blind eye.

Endeavoring to make him into a killer, Dion gives Troy a razor to use on Mason. But his big brother attitude only goes so far, leading to a distressing situation in which Troy and Krys’ friendship is exploited against them for the amusement of Dion’s posse of bros. Even more horrifying is the ordeal they later put Krys through after Troy is bluntly dismissed.

Love’s script is laser-focused on the volatility of incarcerated life and the many ways it can corrupt or break people as bullies reinforce their power by taking ownership of weaker, less seasoned inmates. Being taken under the wing of a thug with muscle and clout behind him can give momentary assurance. But any protection can evaporate as they just as easily fall out of favor on a whim, based on nothing more than the urge to hurt and humiliate.

One of the more saddening aspects of Animol (a misspelled word seen carved into a cell wall in solitary) is the change in Troy’s gaze — from alert and observant to constantly on edge, his eyes almost involuntarily darting in every direction at once to spot a threat. Nyuot (excellent as a reform school troublemaker in Netflix’s Steve, with Cillian Murphy, and also seen recently in The Long Walk) digs deep in an affecting performance, largely internalized but every now and then unable to contain his changeable emotions.

The actor is a superb vessel for the director’s exploration of the identity struggle of outsiders with few if any guiding models of Black manhood and masculinity, let alone sexuality.

Nyuot is also well-paired with the terrific Baliuk as Krys, whose inextinguishable humor and lightness suggest that a tough life riddled with unfairness and aggression is nothing new to him. Walters and Love clearly share a strong belief in the comforts of human contact in an inhuman environment. The strengthening of Troy and Krys’ bond is heartening to see, even if it inevitably turns heartrending when their connection is exploited against them for Mason’s gain.

There are a few questionable choices, like Troy’s nightmare, which veers visually toward overwrought Ryan Murphy cliché. And I’m not sure I entirely bought Claypole’s shame workshop as a cathartic moment, even if Graham imbues the character with enough warmth, calm, patience and gentle authority to sell anything. The EWO seems to be a proxy for the writer and director, whose care and compassion for their characters is never in doubt.

Overall, this is a very confident debut with solid storytelling and character-defining instincts, expertly modulated dread punctuated by jolts of gasp-inducing violence and a striking visual command. DP Tasha Back shoots the drab institutional setting with surprising cinematic vitality, softening the usual sickly greens and claustrophobic spaces with warming lighting and emotionally attuned reds. The frequent use of tight close-ups is beautiful.

This is a modest but trenchant drama and an ideal choice for Berlin’s relatively new first feature competition, Perspectives. It’s grim and wrapped in despair much of the time but willing to make space for hope, understanding and forgiveness. Most of all it’s never banal, always involving, with fully convincing performances across the board. If Walters decides to make the switch to behind the camera a permanent career change, he appears to have the goods.