Clarke earned a reputation for making violent and uncompromising dramas for the BBC, and when his Play for Today version of this story was shelved by the broadcaster, he and writer Roy Minton made an even more brutal cinema version. Scum is the best prison drama the UK (probably any country) has ever made, and that includes the many POW films. It is a sensational exposure of the British borstals of that period, soon to be abolished. The story centres around two offenders' fight for the supremacy of their part of the system, to be the 'daddy'. A battle ultimately won by Ray Winstone's Carlin. These prisons socialise the inmates to conform with the prevailing culture, but the values they learn to adhere to, are utterly insane. No one survives. The institution and the sentences are incidental to the real savagery of the experience; these boys brutalise each other. The rape and subsequent suicide of one of the characters is particularly harrowing. This is a film where the lack of budget actually enhances the look of the drama. All is grim, and hostile, and malign.
This is the film that guaranteed Ray Winston the stardom he now has. Winston plays young offender Carling who wants to do his bird keeping his head down. The Daddy of the joint will not let Carling do his time hassle free though, which prompts Carling to take another path to survive the violent regime.
A harrowing portrayal of borstal life and a great performance from the young Winston. If you've been living on Mars, or you're too young to have seen it when it was first released, I would definitely recommend it.
Scum is one of those films I’d been putting off for years. At school, it was passed around on battered VHS tapes alongside porn and video nasties—spoken of in hushed tones as if it were contraband. Watching it now, I found it far less disturbing than expected—at least until the harrowing final 15 minutes. That said, it’s still a grim, unsparing depiction of life in borstal, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s closer to reality than many would like to admit. It was this film, in fact, that helped accelerate public pressure to dismantle the borstal system altogether.
Alan Clarke’s direction is stark and unflinching, favouring long takes, and a documentary feel that heightens the sense of institutional rot. It’s easy to see why the BBC, who originally commissioned it, baulked—rejecting the television version, which led to Clarke remaking it as a feature film. Sadomasochistic staff, inmates used as cheap labour, and no hint of rehabilitation—just violence, degradation and survival. It’s challenging, raw, and well worth the wait.