The Great Escape 1963
A soft-focus dramatisation of the largely unsuccessful mass escape from the Stalag Luft III prison camp during the second world war. On first viewing, I was mesmerised by the downtrodden military heroics of 1960s icons of cool Steve McQueen, Charles Bronson and James Coburn. The director, John Sturges, unashamedly Americanised the tragic, death-heavy, real-life prison break, and brought the resulting massacre, cited at the Nuremberg trials, to the wider world's attention. Truth or fiction, it embodied the hope and ingenuity that ended the war to end all wars.
The Hill 1965
Starring Sean Connery and Ian Bannen, Sidney Lumet's stifling black-and-white prison flick won the Bafta for best cinematography and the Writers' Guild award for best screenplay. British soldiers are held in a military stockade in the Libyan desert for "crimes" including insubordination and being drunk on duty and are routinely subjected to repetitive, sadistic drill routines in the blazing heat. I'm haunted by the image of the suffocating, gas-mask-point-of-view of the man forced to climb the infamous hill to his death. Memorable line: "Everyone is doing time here, even the screws."
Cool Hand Luke 1967
How could I look at Paul Newman's blue-eyed rebel and not see screen fiction mirroring the reality of my dad's day job as a mid-level criminal, stealing and dealing? I looked up to and copied my dad, and he looked up to Paul Newman. We loved Cool Hand Luke for its skewed redneck charm and easy violence. On winning a game of poker on a bluff, Luke proclaims, "Sometimes, nothing can be a real cool hand." And the name sticks. A critical and financial success, it showcases Newman at his best and George Kennedy in a deserved Oscar-winning role.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest 1975
Jack Nicholson's defining role as a recidivist who gets himself transferred to an Oregon asylum for psychological evaluation to avoid mainstream prison won him a best actor Oscar. Author Ken Kesey didn't care much for the celluloid version of his bestselling book, despite it winning five Academy Awards, six Golden Globes and six Baftas. It is widely considered to be one of the greatest American movies of all time. I couldn't help identifying with McMurphy's screw-the-system attitude and his deluded desire for an easier ride.
Midnight Express 1978
Billy Hayes (Brad Davis) was a real-life drug trafficker caught trying to smuggle a ludicrous amount of hash out of Turkey in 1970 and sentenced to 30 years in Sagmalcilar prison. Oliver Stone's heavily embellished screenplay disappointed Hayes and enraged the Turkish authorities – he eventually apologised for tampering with the truth. As a low-level drug dealer in 1980s London, I was put off cross-border trafficking for good – I got nicked for the last time in 1988, narrowly avoiding a long sentence. Midnight Express is a stern reminder not to try to earn "easy money".
Scum 1979
The only reference to a prison movie in my memoir is to Scum. The eruption of the canteen into an explosion of plates, food and violence was utterly exhilarating and reminded me of the cathartic joy of smashing up derelict buildings as a kid. Ray Winstone launched his career with the role of Carlin in Alan Clarke's eye-wateringly realistic depiction of life in a British borstal in the 1970s. After watching the remorseless journey of the main characters for the first time, I was left stunned, staring at the end credits, feeling like I'd just watched a documentary. Memorable line: "Who's the daddy now?"
Escape from New York 1981
Classic John Carpenter B-movie cool set in the then future of 1997. An uncontrollable rise in crime has forced the US government to transform the island of Manhattan into a maximum-security prison of epic proportions. Prisoners are abandoned to their fate with suitably nasty results. The remake, set for release in 2011, will no doubt send fans of the original into a loyalty tailspin. Carpenter has demanded that Kurt Russell's bad-ass antihero, Snake Plissken, and his trademark eye patch must remain for the new version. Watching it on pirate VHS in 1985 when I was 15 years old made me want a dad like Snake.
The Shawshank Redemption 1994
My list wouldn't be complete without The Shawshank Redemption, a Stephen King short story successfully adapted for the big screen by Frank Darabont and nominated for seven Oscars. It's a classic tale of a wrongly accused man's bid for freedom. Its cult status took off when it was released on VHS and cable, and it has continued to grow in popularity ever since. It reminds me of the harrowing lives of the many prisoners I now work with, about the loss of freedom and despair and hope in the darkest times. Memorable line: "Get busy living, or get busy dying."
The Green Mile 1999
Another Stephen King prison story – a novel this time – adapted by Frank Darabont. Michael Clarke Duncan plays John Coffey, a gentle giant accused of murdering two children, who is waiting his turn on death row – the "Green Mile". Spike Lee accused the film of racial stereotyping, calling Coffey, portrayed as a highly gifted healer, a "super-duper, magical Negro". I can see his point, but I thought the big man was powerful in his simple compassion in the face of so much hatred. The film offers a chilling argument against the death penalty and makes me aware of the reality of so many botched convictions and subsequent executions.
A Prophet 2009
Not since Scum have I seen a film so accurately depict what it's like to walk into a prison for the first time, young, shocked and utterly freaked out: stark, lifeless strip lighting, violence simmering on every landing, and the total loss of human warmth. If I could choose who adapts my memoir, Criminal, for the screen, it would be Cannes Grand Prix winner Jacques Audiard. If you want to get inside the real prison experience without committing a crime, forget about the illegal download and buy the DVD.
Caspar Walsh's first novel, Blood Road, is out on 5 August.
