I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently about what we consume, and more importantly, what we *produce* as entertainment. It feels like the world is awash with global giants, with South Korean pop sensations BTS commanding stadium tours and commanding attention on Netflix, and Steven Knight’s gritty Birmingham drama, Peaky Blinders, becoming a worldwide phenomenon, even spawning a follow-up film. Meanwhile, closer to home, presenters like Holly Willoughby are striking out with new online ventures after leaving established terrestrial broadcasters like ITV. It’s a landscape that’s constantly shifting, a relentless tide of content washing over us.
And it’s this very scale that makes me pause and consider Scotland’s position. We have a rich history of storytelling, a vibrant arts scene, and a deep well of talent, yet it sometimes feels like our own voices are struggling to be heard above the din. When I see a programme like Peaky Blinders, with its creator so clearly rooted in its regional identity, wanting to make a specific accent “sexy” and finding a global audience, I can’t help but wonder when we’ll see a Scottish story achieve that same kind of universal resonance. Knight talks about the show’s global reach feeling personal because it was about Birmingham and his family. That’s a powerful connection, one that surely resonates with audiences far beyond the Midlands.
The Streaming Siren Song
The rise of streaming platforms like Netflix has, of course, democratised access in many ways. We can watch what we want, when we want, from pretty much anywhere. This has undoubtedly been a boon for niche interests and for showcasing diverse voices that might not have found a home on traditional broadcast channels. The fact that BTS’s latest Netflix show is getting so much attention, and their massive tour is selling out, is a testament to this global interconnectedness. It proves that a strong, authentic cultural offering can find its audience, no matter where it originates.
However, I worry that this also creates a pressure to conform to a certain mould, a mould that might not be inherently Scottish. Does the pursuit of global appeal mean we risk smoothing out the rough edges, the unique quirks, that make our stories so compelling? It’s easy to see how a show like Peaky Blinders, with its strong visual identity and compelling narrative, could translate well. But what about the more subtle, perhaps more introspective, or even the downright peculiar aspects of Scottish life and history? Will they find their place on the global stage, or will they remain a cherished, but perhaps less visible, regional treasure?
Beyond the Border
It’s not as if Scotland isn’t producing excellent entertainment. We have talented filmmakers, writers, and musicians constantly creating. But the question is one of reach and recognition. When I scan the ‘Films of the Week’ listings, or see headlines about major international productions, I find myself scanning for Scottish names, Scottish stories, and I don’t always find them as prominently as I’d like. There’s a vital conversation to be had about how we support our own creative industries to not just *make* great content, but to *promote* it on a global scale. This isn’t about protectionism, but about ensuring our distinct cultural output has the opportunity to shine.
Perhaps it’s about investing in more ambitious co-productions, or supporting Scottish creators to develop projects with international appeal from the outset. It’s also about nurturing the platforms that can amplify our voices, whether they be national broadcasters, independent film studios, or even new digital ventures. We’ve seen the success of shows that lean into their regional identity, and I believe Scotland has a wealth of unique stories waiting to be told and shared with the world. It’s time we made sure those stories aren’t just whispered on the wind, but are shouted from the rooftops, heard in every corner of the globe.