Bram Ruiter’s review published on Letterboxd :
Trevor is a swastika-on-the-forehead toting juvenile delinquent wreaking havoc. He has no plan of ever conforming to societal rules, nor has he any interest in toning down his angry aura, shouting racial slurs while throwing bricks through windows and getting a fellow kid hooked on huffing glue. Trevor’s misunderstood, he’s 16, he’s mad. The adults around him, the people trying to help him and who he should be looking up to, are neither shining beacons of conformity. I mean, they try, but every single one of them breaks the rules put in place to keep them in line, and to keep the system going. His go-to gaurdian guy Harry lies about a referral, the detention centre staff “fixes” an entry into a derby car race for him, and so forth. Trevor has been taught by the very systems that should protect him that there’s always a way out. Always an excuse. And that if you don’t conform, you’ll get into a cycle of being detainted, which Trevor doesn’t seem to mind, and being let go, rendering the previous meaningless. It makes for a portait of helplesness with a bleak outlook for both the anti-conformist (who, let’s not forget, is a truly horrendous individual) and the systems in place. And all that is captured in long takes, lacking any form of movie magic. There’s no music, no beauty, no sentiment, no guidance. It’s just Trevor, slowly spiraling, while we helplessly look on, hoping SOMEONE is capable of talking some sense into him.