Fifty years ago, the James MacTaggart Lecture was born not to soothe, but to stir. It was never meant to flatter or play nice. At its best, it has held a mirror to the industry and asked: are we brave enough to look?

Over the decades, it has done what so few spaces in this business dare to do: it has spoken plainly. Skewered the smug. Called out the contradictions. Named names. Kicked doors. It has challenged not just those in power, but the power in all of us, the broadcasters and commissioners, the critics and creators, the ones in charge of who gets seen and heard, and the ones who decide who doesn’t.

It has asked: what are we doing with this platform we claim to value? What future are we making or refusing to make?

Now, fifty years on, the temptation is to look back fondly. Wrap the legacy in velvet. Toast it. Archive it. Bathe it in soft gold.

But that’s not what this moment needs.

Because to honour MacTaggart at fifty is not to revere it. It’s to reignite it.

Let it burn.

Let it burn through the corporate sheen. Through the endless strategy documents, the “next steps” reports, the carefully worded commitments that sound good but mean little. Let it burn through the idea that transformation can be ticked off a to-do list, that change is polite, incremental, tidy.

We are not in a time that asks for polish. We are in a reckoning.

The old models are collapsing around us. Linear TV is no longer the default. Public service, once a solid idea, is being pulled and stretched by streamers, sovereignty, tech giants, fractured attention, and fractured trust. Audiences are everywhere but faith in institutions is low. Budgets are shrinking, anxiety is growing, the same doors stay shut.

What this Festival must offer, what only this Festival can offer is a blueprint for something braver. We are not a trade show. We are not a corporate showcase. We are a platform for power to be held accountable and for potential to be seen, heard, and lifted.

Because there are people, brilliant, vital people who are still locked outside. Not by accident. By design. We’ve spent decades building an industry that rewards those who already know the way in. Who can afford to hang on through unpaid work, who look and sound like the ones already in charge.

That can’t continue.

We talk a lot about talent pipelines. But what use is a pipeline when the entrance is hidden, the map unwritten, and the people at the gate still asking for someone they already know?

We cannot build a future on exclusion, on nostalgia, or on inertia.

If the MacTaggart is the soul of this Festival, the TV Foundation is its spine. Programmes like Visionaries, The Network and Changemakers have brought in hundreds of brilliant people from outside the system, young, working-class, global majority, disabled, queer, not just to join the industry, but to change it.

But that alone won’t be enough.

Because leadership isn’t a job title, or a speaking slot. It’s a decision. A refusal to wait. A commitment to opening the door and holding it wide, not once, not for show, but every day. It’s asking, over and over: who’s not in this room, and why? Who’s here, but not truly heard? Whose stories are never seen, unless told through someone else’s lens?.

So let this year’s MacTaggart  and this year’s Festival be something different. Less brand management, more truth-telling. Less reverence, more resistance. Let it challenge all of us, deeply.

Why are we still commissioning the same stories, from the same voices, about the same lives?

Why do we pretend that “risk” lives only on YouTube or that innovation belongs to Silicon Valley?

Why do we keep asking new talent to shrink themselves to fit the system, instead of asking the system to stretch?

There are people right now, in community media centres, in WhatsApp groups, in kitchen-table collectives, on TikTok, Substack, Discord, pirate radio, already making the future. They’re building trust, telling stories, finding audiences. They are not waiting to be invited in. And nor should they.

We don’t need to “give them a platform.” We need to listen, and catch up.

The next fifty years of this industry won’t be built by the ones who play it safe. They will be shaped by the ones who stop performing change and start living it. The ones who don’t protect the mic, they pass it on. The ones who understand that legacy isn’t something we honour by preserving it. We honour it by risking  it.

This year, we’re inviting everyone at this Festival to show up a little differently. Speak with less polish and more urgency. Listen with less defensiveness and more intent. Disagree, loudly, if you must but then act. Don’t wait for the nod from above. Be the nod. Be the movement.

Because the future won’t be built by those waiting to be told it’s their turn. It will be built by those who take their turn and then make room for someone else to do the same.

Here’s to the next fifty years.

Let them be messier. More open. More honest. Let them be powered by voices we haven’t heard yet, not because they lacked talent, but because we lacked the courage to hear them.

Let them burn.

And from the embers, let something braver grow.

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It’s time for our final Culture Digest of the year, the curated cultural briefing from The TV Festival and TV Foundation team. If you’re looking for something new to watch, read or do this December, you’ve come to the right place.

TV

Once Upon a Time in Space (BBC): A sweeping look at humanity’s love affair with space exploration.

Pluribus (Apple TV): Creator Vince Gilligan’s return to telly, where a near-future political experiment goes off the rails.

The Beast in Me (Netflix): A journalist digs into a family secret and things get dark fast. Moody, stylish, addictive.

Daddy Issues (BBC iPlayer): The chaotic, heartfelt comedy-drama returns with bigger laughs and even bigger emotional mess.

One Shot with Ed Sheeran (Netflix): A testament to Ed’s creativity and stamina and a tad less depressing than Adolescence!

Film

Die My Love (In Cinemas): A fierce, intimate portrait of unraveling motherhood

Alpha (In Cinemas): A departure from the usual body horror genre of director Julia Ducournau that was the hallmark of her Palme do’or, Titane. But an intimate commentary on how fear spreads and the impact it can have on generations.

Train Dreams (Netflix): An elegiac frontier drama tracing the quiet, wandering life of a railroad worker in early 20th-century America. For the visuals alone, we recommend catching a screening of this in the cinema if you can!

Age of Disclosure (Documentary): A sharp look at our cultural obsession with aliens, conspiracy, and the limits of what we choose to believe. Best paired with this excellent Guardian companion piece for extra context.

Long Reads

Embrace The McAllister Mindset: A case for channeling your inner Home Alone protagonist.

Everything Is Television: How TV logic swallowed the entire culture.

A Theory of Dumb: Why we might actually be getting less sharp - and what tech has to do with it.

The Robots Taking Over Milton Keynes: Delivery bots, AI and the quiet rise of a robot-run town.

David Byrne New Yorker Profile: A delightful deep dive into Byrne’s curious, creative universe.

Out and About

Wes Anderson Archives at The Design Museum

Music & Podcast

And finally, a few podcast and music recommendations to add to your playlists! Enjoy.

Launched in 1997, the Alternative MacTaggart offers bold perspectives on the future of television. This year’s speaker was Munya Chawawa - a satirical powerhouse known for viral sketches and sharp cultural commentary. If you would prefer to watch the lecture, you can find it on our YouTube.

Good afternoon, everyone - before I start: could you give me a little cheer if you’ve seen me on the internet before? If you haven’t, I’ll just say what you’re thinking: what in the JLS tribute act is going on? I look like that one guy on Love Island who cheats in Casa Amor every year. Someone once left an Instagram comment saying I look like Lewis Hamilton if he’d never passed his theory test…and that’s the last time I wished her Happy Mother’s Day. My name is Munya Chawawa – which I’m fully aware sounds mental. It’s an African name though, which is cool because African names have meaning. So, my name Munya Chawawa means: my parents wanted me to get bullied.

If you think you recognise me from the internet, you are correct. Across the last 7 years, I’ve built of a career from speedy online satire, covering everything from Tory lockdown parties to ChatGPT, Brat Summer to summer riots by the EDL. I know some people insist the EDL was disbanded and will never get back together, but you know: that’s what the Spice Girls said… Through a series of parodies, impersonations, political takedowns and a stint as the UK’s first posh drill rapper - I’ve been able to amass over 3 million followers & 1 billion views, which in turn have led to a Rolling Stone front cover, profile pieces in the New York Times, a record deal with Atlantic and relentless requests to appear on The Masked Singer.

However, let’s address the elephant in the room. At the mere whiff of the phrase ‘digital’, some of you may now be tempted to sit back, a surreptitious grin etching itself across your face. You know what this speech is about. Perhaps you’ll even attempt to bash out a sneaky Wordle, as your brain smugly summarises the speech before it’s even begun: Tiktokker with zero industry experience tells tele people how TV is totally over, totally irrelevant. If that’s you: firstly, today’s word is EXTOL, screw you. Secondly, your summary is correct apart from one crucial detail, one little secret you might not know: I too am a tele person, just like you. My career began in television, every skill I have was forged in television and crucially: despite having curated a voice and an audience all of my own, even after jumping through the various hoops laid out by execs and commissioners, I still find myself outside the gates of television - waiting to be let in.

I, like you, am pained to hear that traditional British television is in decline. To hear that after surviving the gruelling gauntlet of development, series now fizzle out after one night - doomed to an eternity lurking in the dark recesses of iPlayer, ITV X and whatever Channel 4’s calling theirs now: foursome? To know that in 2025, meticulously crafted traditionally produced shows must come to terms with that fact that the apex of their existence might be as a 5-second, pixelated repost on TikTok underlaid by the Jet2holiday theme song.

Like the horsemen of the apocalypse, the broadsheets bellow out unanimously: “traditional TV is dying”. And perhaps most devasting is the fact that much of it is self-inflicted. In the face of a rapidly changing landscape, British television has ignored evolution and the same, outdated gatekeepers have stuck to the same, outdated guns whilst yelling: “hey guys, remember this one?” like an out-of-touch dad doing the worm at a day rave.

British TV isn’t dying because of TikTok. It’s dying because it has lost its willingness to take risks, to throw caution to the wind and to gamble on great ideas. And whilst traditional television desperately drunk texts its ex with the promise of nostalgia and reboots of old favourites, the audience swipe through a selection of hot, new guys: Instagram, YouTube, & TikTok – all of whom wallow in the bounty of record viewing figures and retention rates.

‘Adapt or die’ – it’s the kind of thing David Attenborough would say whilst watching a baby penguin mauled to death by a polar bear. If television is to stand a chance – it’s time to ditch the safety of our national mantra: Keep Calm & Carry On, and instead, try an alternative: Pull Your Finger Out & Take a Bloody Chance! Given, it’s not the sort of thing your nan would willingly stitch into a tea cosy, but alas – this is an ode to trying something unusual, taking a gamble and reclaiming the risk traditional television was once defined by - because that’s what this generation is doing online, and they’re bloody smashing it.

So, Edinburgh, esteemed tele people: penguin or polar bear? And yes: I’m fully aware that sounds like a new gameshow hosted by Noel Edmunds on BBC One, but stick with me.

Firstly, it’s important to note that being brave, being provocative, was once woven into the DNA of British television; something I first experienced during my childhood in Zimbabwe. Unlike a deprived Rishi Sunak, we grew up with satellite tele, most of which – for some inexplicable reason, showed Jackie Chan’s entire cinematic catalogue on repeat. After the 419^th time watching of him beat a man to death with a milk frother – I began channel hopping in search of new thrills and stumbled upon one labelled ‘The BBC’. For as much colonial ball-ache as Britain had put Zimbabwe through, it seemed even Robert Mugabe couldn’t resist a bit of Strictly.

The channel played shows from every broadcaster and the one playing on that fateful day was an ITV show called Ladette to Lady – where groups of unruly women were sent to finishing school to become quintessential British ladies. I instantly became the show’s number one fan, mainly because the contestants insisted on getting their boobs out, which as a young boy, I found to be utterly compelling viewing. Moreover, the show felt fresh, mischievous and risky. Would today’s commissioners risk their ratings on a show like that? It doesn’t matter, because over on TikTok, William Hanson - a British etiquette coach, delivers daily lessons to over 3 million followers. Online takes the risk, online gets the reward.

When the show ended, I was ravenous for the channel’s next offering – which turned out to be a Channel 4 show called Faking It. In the show, members of the public would train with a professional for 4 weeks before attempting to hoodwink a panel of experts into thinking were the real deal. There was no prize other than a batshit crazy LinkedIn update. The show was frivolous but immersive, simple but irresistible. Would today’s commissioners take that gamble? That’s fine - because on YouTube, Niko Omilana conducts his version, impersonating Apple employees, IKEA staff and politicians to over 55 million viewers. Online takes the risk, online gets the reward.

As the night drew to a close, I remained welded to the sofa, eyes bulging, ready for whatever madness this mysterious ‘BBC’ channel decided to belch onto the screen next. It was a BBC sketch show called Little Britain. Over the next hour, I witnessed two men transform themselves into a million different characters by switching personalities, accents and outfits; I’d never seen anything like it. And whilst I may not have understood the implications of some of the things they said and did, it was nice seeing someone my colour represented on screen. The show was outrageous, irreverent & stupid – but iconic. Even so, a commissioner recently told me that today - there was no appetite for sketch comedy, which was peculiar seeing as the sketch I posted the following day hit 20 million views in 48 hours; online takes the risk, online gets the reward.

Nevertheless, as a kid – I hopped off the sofa that day, having decided that British TV was cool, and despite being so young, I became a loyal viewer across evenings, weekends and even my school holidays. A stark contrast from today, where 16 – 24-year-olds spend on average just 17 minutes a day watching live broadcast. For me back then, tele was an adventure, a chance to hang with the cool kids of entertainment; for this generation now – tele is more a reluctant visit to an elderly relative, who insists on serving up stale Hobnobs from an old tin.

By the time I hit my 20s, my childhood obsession had turned to genuine ambition – I wanted to make tele. I earned my stripes: a researcher role on Obsessive Compulsive Cleaners – where I would be sent out to find hoarders, and on one occasion narrowly avoided being crushed to death by a tower of Enrique Iglesias CDs. A VO job on E4’s Sex Testers which involved shouting ‘gonorrhoea’ into a microphone with varying levels of enthusiasm… And eventually, a producer role on a 4Music show, which involved strapping celebs into electric underwear in a game called Quiz in my Pants – Jason Derulo hasn’t visited the UK since.

Eventually though, I hit a wall. I had big ideas, I wanted to make distinctive groundbreaking shows of my own, but every exec, every gatekeeper said the same thing: “you’re a nobody.” “you’re weird” “you don’t quite fit into the very neat box we need you in”. The first rejection. It’s this sentiment that drove me and no doubt countless others, onto social media. Television’s refusal to nurture talent birthed a generation of those determined to teach themselves. We built our own creative playgrounds on apps with zero barrier to entry. Instead of wasting our time and early ambition trying to get on someone else’s channel, we could start our own. Our own space to refine our voices, to create ideas with no consequence and no limit to our imagination. Where tele said no – social media projected in huge, shiny letters: YES.

Several years later and by the end of lockdown, I had built a profile through relentless Tory bashing – almost getting deported on several occasions, which was prettyyyy…Patel’s fault actually. But more than a profile, I had what felt like my own ‘BBC channel’ – one where I was commissioner, compliance team, researcher and exec producer. And yet, I still wanted what TV had.

And so, when I was eventually offered a non-scripted series by YouTube, I was intent on creating one of the platform’s first original TV shows. The resulting show was called Race Around Britain – a 4 x 30-minute comedy travelogue consisting of stunts, sketches and social experiments to find out what Britain knew about black culture. Racial tensions were high following the George Floyd protests, and in my mind, the best antidote was the unifying power of comedy. In the show, we tested contestants’ knowledge of cultural foods in a spoof cookery show called The Great British Jerk-Off, which might be difficult finding online after the new Online Safety Act. We recreated the pressure of the 2021 Euros penalties on black players by getting contributors to take shots in front of a full brass band, police dogs and two goalkeepers. And most notoriously, we tested the concept of white privilege by seeing whether 3 ladies named Karen could create a viral drill song in 24 hours – by the next day the track sat at 1 million views and had the streets singing “fresh drip from Debenhams, gang in Fiat 500s – revving ‘em”.

Race Around Britain was mischievous, it was novel and unexpected. As such, a few months after its release, I was awarded the National Comedy Award for Best New Comedian, an RTS, Edinburgh TV & Broadcast Digital Award for Best Presenter, and to our utter amazement: a BAFTA nomination for Best Comedy Entertainment show – the first time ever that a YouTube show has been nominated for a television BAFTA. I’ll give you a moment to applaud… [audience claps]

– we lost. But shortly before the awards The Guardian wrote: the choice between established talent and exciting newcomer is rarely as clear as between one of the all-time greats – Graham Norton, eight wins in this genre, five nominations – and Munya Chawawa, whose super fresh Race Around Britain makes YouTube a serious player. BAFTA probably will – and should – choose Chawawa. As crushing as it was not to win, the reality was, we had done it! We’d made a TV show just like the ones I’d been infatuated by the first time I watched the BBC channel. Now, surely – recognising me as one of its own, traditional television would welcome me home with open arms, the prodigal son.

A year later, across the period of a week, we sat across the tables from various commissioners and unveiled our shiny new deck for the sequel: Race Around Europe. To each meeting, we came armed with accolades, viewing figures & glistening audience insights, along with rigorously prepared small talk, each member equipped with a selection of charming weather-based anecdotes and the ability to share presentations from laptop to smart TV in 0.3 seconds; we were quite literally: pitch perfect. And so, you can imagine our utter dismay when the following week – all the channels came back with the news that they’d be passing on the series. “It’s just a bit risky for us”, “We’re looking for something a bit safer”, “Is there any way you could make it more similar to say Love Island or Traitors?” and perhaps most crucially - “It won’t connect with our audience”.

It was a gut punch of colossal proportions. We had brought to the table an idea, industry experience, an audience of over a million - with a BAFTA-nomination for added bonus - and still the answer was no. The show and all its potential died that week, not because of quality, but because of the systematic inability for TV gatekeepers to see value outside the bubble of their own familiarity. There was something pitiful about watching the commissioners sheltering their old, easily-spooked, traditional audience so fiercely, like Gollum clasping the ring - afraid that they might see something different, something new. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked for your audience – but what about mine? What about the 6 million who had enjoyed series 1? Maybe it wouldn’t have won over your 60-year-olds, but it would have brought a hell of a lot more 18-24s.

Traditional British TV was happy to cheer for the show’s success, but they certainly weren’t going to make it. The whole thing was like a depressing reunion, where you realise your mad mate who insisted on drinking his own piss out a shoe on night-outs, now runs a speed awareness course and plays golf at the weekends. TV just wasn’t fun anymore.

Like Shrek to his swamp – the following months I returned to my safe place, social media. I knew scrolling through brain rot was bad for me, but it was also soothing; the same comfort of a greasy kebab after being kicked out the club by a bouncer. And yes - whilst the apps were predominantly mind-numbing memes, curiously - every so often, something I hadn’t seen before was cropping up. A new type of creator: production savvy, ambitious, unpredictable. For some reason more and more creators seemed to be shifting from shaky selfie cam rants to carefully composed shots, audio mixed interviews and repeatable formats. TikTok and its users appeared to be doing their best impression of television. Meanwhile, YouTube – once confined only to search bars, had made its way onto the home screens of most smart TVs, beckoning in new audiences with its infinite catalogue – dating shows, cookery shows, property tours, ghost hunts, travelogues, celebrity interviews, sketch shows – all self-made, self-funded and oozing with originality. And it was clear this combination was being rewarded handsomely by viewers.

Exploring Haunted Abandoned Millionaire’s Mansion – 4.8 million views.

Craziest Way To Make Biryani – 9 million views.

I Slept With 100 Men in One Day – 11 million views; mum – a reminder, I’m just reading the titles of the videos.

Could it be that YouTube, something that was once no more than a virtual town square for crazy cat owners – had become a serious mainstream contender? The answer came in the form of Squid Game. Whatever doubts there were over the internet’s ability to outmatch television were settled when the first series dropped on Netflix. Given - Squid Game was a revolutionary Korean-language international streamer show, setting records for what audiences high-end drama could reach. After the first season, it sat at a colossal 265 million views. Debate settled. TV wins. Until a few months later, when a YouTuber named Mr. Beast recreated the show on his channel: 850 million views. The message was clear, anything you can do – we can do better.

And now – present day, evidence supports that theory more than ever. Broadcast reported that YouTube has overtaken ITV to become the second most-watched service in UK homes, behind only the BBC. Whilst traditional television attempts to please its diners by serving up the same comfortable family favourites night after night, digital provides an endless, risk-taking taster menu. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that competing in this instance, is simply impossible. Online is the bogeyman and it is coming for you. Squeezing your eyes shut and banking on The Inbetweeners or FRIENDS or Family Guy to bring in ratings isn’t going to work – these re-runs are nothing more than millennial lullabies that viewers stick on in the background or fall asleep to. They are not viewing figures so much as nostalgic glances backwards. To survive, tele must move forwards.

I can sense the room is tense – there are more clenched cheeks than the Masterchef Christmas party…Thankfully, I don’t believe it’s a case of kill or be killed – the key is actually: meaningful collaboration. Television has the expertise, the experience and the structures to turn internet talent into generational programming. Where creators have passion - TV can sculpt it into ideas. Where creators have ideas – TV can develop them into formats. Where creators have formats – TV can inject budget to elevate them to their full potential.

In instances where channels have dipped their toes in with this approach, the results are glowing. Whether it’s Poppy Cooks – a food creator who specialises exclusively in potatoes, landing a regular spot on Saturday kitchen, or Francis Bourgeois – a man who literally became famous by filming trains with a camera strapped to his head, being announced as the new host The Grand Tour – viewers are invested. Netflix commissioned ‘Inside’ series 2 – what is essentially the young generations Big Brother, made by a group of YouTubers. Audiences will follow good ideas and exciting talent, whatever screen they appear on.

But even beyond the most immediate choices, TV must task itself with looking for the hidden gems. For instance, the viral teenager who pitched a travel show to the BBC during work his experience. After getting rejected, he and his friends flew to Somaliland and made the show anyway and guess what? It’s great – but it’s not perfect. Recording a series in your bedroom will never be the same as one infused with the resource and know-how of the creative industry. In this instance – new talent was on a plate! A chance to freshen up a drying pipeline of familiar faces. The channel absolutely should be fostering that new talent, building the relationship and developing the concept, so that in 5 years times perhaps that young, aspirational documentarian is in a position to take the mantle and inject new life into a genre we hold so dearly.

And a disclaimer: astronomical figures with new talent and ideas might not be immediate. But it’s either television takes a chance and dedicates itself to developing the next generation of talent - or simply clings onto its old favourites until they are physically incapable of doing the job. Just ask yourself: do you really want to be sat in your living room watching an 85-year-old Simon Cowell smashing his big red buzzer? Putting an enthusiastic young person on TV might feel like a risk, but Ant and Dec were first on screen at age 13 and what did they get? 45 NTAs and a long-standing hosting gig where people come face to face with a shrivelled camel’s anus. Or some people insist on calling him: Nigel Farage. We must ask ourselves, if those two retired today: who have we been training up to fill their space? Either you’re actively building the next wave or beckoning your own extinction.

I mentioned earlier – despite everything - it feels like I find myself outside the gates of TV, waiting for permission to create. I have series – an original scripted comedy, imaginative unscripted formats - that I’m trying to build through the traditional means. But… after being wheeled out at Edinburgh, will I be forced through the sausage factory of channels more interested in their risk-averse traditional viewers than the next generation?

You might think: if digital is killing it, if creators are amassing millions of followers and dollars already, why are we still saying yes to TV shows? Is tele even worth it…?

Well, after quite literally 1 billion views on social media, I very rarely meet someone and tell them about my latest 60-second viral video. Instead, I’m far more likely to say – “did you manage to watch my series Race Around Britain?” or “Did you know I have a documentary about Kim Jong-Un?” – which admittedly, works less well as a chat-up line. The fact is: television matters. Or at least it still matters to me. In an age defined by swipes and fleeting moments on a phone, many of us pine for something more permanent, something that lasts, produced to the highest standard, a craft, a legacy. There is a world where the devil-may-care attitude of this new generation could infuse a new phase of exciting and unpredictable British TV. But it requires deep and meaningful collaboration – not cameos. In 5 years’ time, no one will say: television was doomed until we featured Munya Chawawa on The Wheel. Being on a show is not the same as letting us build our own: trust us, try us, champion us.

Let’s just be real: sameness is not exciting; surviving is not succeeding. Online creators have both the power to obliterate TV and simultaneously resuscitate it. Stood before us are two gladiators in the colosseum of entertainment. The OG – Russell Crowe, lays on the floor, gasping for breath, as the new kid - Paul Mescal wields both a blade and an outstretched hand above him. The crowd are baying for blood; it’s a battle to the death / ratings. But there is world in which: instead of fighting, Paul Mescal and Russell Crow skip off into the sunset, perhaps even make sweet love. So Edinburgh - take our hand or lose your head – you choose.

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Trick or treat yourself to another round of our Culture Digest, our curated cultural briefing from The TV Foundation team. Your quick guide to what’s worth watching, reading, and seeing - curated with care, so you never miss a cultural beat.

It’s officially sweater weather so we’ve got a bumper list of binge-worthy tv and film for you to feast on over the colder months.

TV

Slow Horses (Apple TV): Jackson Lamb is back for a fifth season with his Slough House posse in tow.

Film Club (BBC): Aimee Lou Wood stars in - and co-wrote - this understated rom-com about two will-they-won’t-they cinephile friends.

Ragdoll (BBC): One from the iPlayer archives but perfect for Halloween season.

Task (Now): A riveting cat and mouse chase from the creators of Mare of Eastown.

The Chair Company (Now): Unhinged office rage. Tim Robinson brings us this bonkers comedy-thriller.

Blue Lights (BBC): Back for season 3, Blue Lights proves yet again that it might be the best cop show ever made.

Film

Sorry, Baby (Mubi): Heartbreaking and hilarious in the same beat.

A House of Dynamite (Netflix): Tense thriller from director powerhouse, Kathryn Bigelow.

Frankenstein: (In Cinemas Now): Perhaps the most fitting recommendation for this months digest. Guillermo del Toro’s take on the horror classic.

Hamnet: (In Cinemas January 2026): Some of the team were lucky to catch the premiere at LFF this year and now the rest of us can’t wait to catch the adaptation of Maggie O’Farrells novel.

One Battle After Another: (In Cinemas Now) – PTA putting Leonardo Di Caprio firmly in the Oscar’s race. A must on the big screen.

Zodiac Killer Project: A documentary about the making of a failed documentary. A clever unpicking of the true crime genre. Tickets are available now for the London premiere and Q&A at the ICA.

The Slumber Party Massacre: Perfect for Halloween night, feast your eyes on this classic 80’s slasher film.

In the Cut: Early noughties Meg Ryan and Mark Ruffalo, need we say more?

Goodnight Mommy: A viscerally chilling Austrian horror film.

Music

West End Girl: Lily Allen’s new album, is a work of theatre.

Book

Audition by Katie Kitamura: Now Shortlisted for the Booker Prize, its sharp, hypnotic, and masterfully crafted.

All The Best For The Future: Growing Up Without Growing Old by Greg James: Brilliantly funny and heart-warming stories of growing up from much-loved Radio 1 presenter and bestselling children’s author, Greg James. What’s not to love?

Spent Light by Lara Pawson: Compelling as it is repellent, this book blends memoir, fiction and history.

Podcast

WTF with Marc Maron: Bowing out after 16 years, the King of podcasts say’s farewell with one final guest, Barack Obama.

The Stack: Shoutout to our former Festival Researcher and friend, Jake Williams who’s just launched a book podcast with his friend, Ella. Kick off the series with some Haunting recommendations.

What Went Wrong: A podcast covering Hollywood’s most notorious disastrous film productions.

Out and About

Mary Page Marlowe at The Old Vic: Susan Sarandon and Andrea Riseborough together at the Old Vic by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tracy Letts. Were you lucky enough to catch the run?

Folkestone Triennial is over for another year, but highlights include artist Hanna Tuulikki’s Love (Warbler Remix)

Got something we should check out or spooky Halloween recommendation? Let us know in the comments - we’re always looking for our next favourite thing.

Spoken at the Opening Session, The Future is Now – TV’s Place in the New World Order. Thank you to session partner, Broadcast. You can find a full, cited transcript here.

Hello. Welcome to the opening debate of the Edinburgh TV Festival - thank you to Broadcast for supporting this session. It’s titled: The Future is Now – TV’s Place in the New World Order. And the Festival’s asked me to do a couple of things before we meet our panel.

First - to check in on what I said about the industry last year. A bit like marking your homework in front of a room of expert markers. I’ve taken that on. Then second - I’ve been asked to identify some key moments since we last gathered. And I’ve got, I think, 12 minutes to do this. Let’s see what I can do.

This time last year, I highlighted four factors.

1. The first was a shift in consumption. What people watch, and where they watch, was fundamentally changing.

It still is.

For example - in 2024, YouTube overtook ITV and became the second most-watched service in UK homes - after the BBC.

The BBC is on 19%,

YouTube on 14%,

ITV on 12%...

Among 16 to 34 years old - YouTube was the most-watched service overall.

And Ofcom sees a clear direction of travel.

It says: “If content from PSBs is going to survive, it has to be discoverable. That means forging commercial and strategic partnerships with platforms – and not treating them like the enemy.”

The shift in consumption continues at pace.

2. The second shift was the globalisation of British TV.

The next factor was the globalisation of British TV.

And look at this for 2024. Here are the top six global TV content providers: Netflix, Disney, Comcast, Google, Warner Bros. Discovery, and Paramount - for the first time they alone account for over half of the total global content spend. That has consequences in the UK.

In 2023, inward investment in High End TV made in the UK was 72% of the overall spend.

Last year it was 82%. That’s an increase of 750 million pounds.

In many different ways, UK TV is ever more directly affected by the global industry.

The third shift was advertising’s digital transformation. This is only going one way.

Last year, Linear TV ad spend fell 2%.

Video on Demand advertising rose 26% year-on-year in the first half of 2024.

Here are ITV’s half year results for 2025 - digital advertising revenue is up by 12% - by £26 million.

Advertising revenue overall was down 7% - by £65 million.

Digital revenue continues to go up - but it’s struggling to counter the fall in linear revenue.

My fourth factor was the centrality of technology. Especially to distribution.

This year, the BBC is spending £88 million, that’s $118 million on online & TV development. That’s a significant increase.

In 2024, Netflix put $2.9 billion into R&D - including new search and recommendations technology. That’s almost 10% up on the year before.

Broadcasters are still very much committed to their own VoD platforms. But there’s fierce competition.

And they are having to decide how much of their content to put on platforms such Tiktok and, in particular, YouTube.

The best technology is ever more vital to getting your content to audiences. That’s still exerting significant strategic pressure.

These four factors - Still crucial to understanding this industry. But what about the last year? You’ll have your own thoughts on the most important moments. I’ve chosen five.

The first comes on 19 December. BeastGames launched on Amazon Prime. It was the most expensive reality show ever made. With the biggest cash prize of all time.

All built around a record-breaking YouTuber.

And yes, BeastGames was beaten in the international ratings by programmes that were cheaper to make, amongst others - Love is Blind and The Circle - but Beast Games will be back for at least two more seasons.

This was the creator economy making itself felt in the mainstream as never before. And it’s surely just the start.

2. Our next moment came on 20 January - when Donald Trump became US President again.

His hostility to businesses involved in news is long-standing.

Mr Trump sued ABC over alleged defamation. ABC settled for $15 million. He sued CBS over the editing of a Kamala Harris interview. CBS’ owner Paramount Global settled for $16 million.

After a Wall Street Journal article, the President is suing parent company Dow Jones and its owner Rupert Murdoch. So far, no settlement there.

President Trump prides himself on being different - and this is definitely a different experience for US media - especially those that produce news. That’s relevant to UK TV in a range of ways.

For example, President Trump also criticised NPR and PBS.

Accusing both of “Biased and partisan news coverage”.

He’s withdrawing all $1.1 billion of federal funding. And here’s why that matters to UK TV.

PBS has a co-production deal with BBC Studios. It’s resulted in over 250 hours of premium content in the last decade. Channel 4 also has a longstanding partnership with PBS. The loss of federal funding raises questions about how these partnerships will work.

Donald Trump’s hostility to sections of the media is not going anywhere - nor is his unpredictability - which he sees as a strength. But it does make things... unpredictable - for US media - and anyone who does business with it.

3. Our 3rd Moment came on March 13th - Adolescence was released on Netflix to huge critical acclaim. And the ratings followed.

It became the first UK streaming show to top the weekly British ratings chart.

Globally, within 3 months Adolescence was the second most viewed English Language series on Netflix... there’s ever been.Wednesday is number one - in case you’re wondering.

Adolescence featured a UK cast, a UK production, a UK story - but it wasn’t on a PSB - it was on a US-owned streaming platform.

And Wolf Hall director Peter Kosminsky told my BBC colleague Katie Razzall

“The BBC or ITV would wish to make Adolescence, but let’s be absolutely clear, there is no way they could make it at the moment.”

“Because the cost of making it has increased radically, directly as a result of the streamers coming and making their programmes here. Nobody disputes that”

Adolescence writer Jack Thorne argued the broadcasters could have made it - but “It would have been a slightly different version of it” - because of cost.

And there is no dispute that costs are rising - and that UK broadcasters are spending less on high end TV. The spend on HETV fell by 25% year on year in 2024.

The lessons we should draw from Adolescence are contested. But it brought to the fore questions around how to turn the best British stories into the best and highest impact television.

So three moments - BeastGames, President Trump’s return, Adolescence. Two more moments for you.

Number 4 - is about Channel 4. On the 21st May it announced plans for in house production.

Channel 4’s creation in 1982 was in part to stimulate and grow the independent production sector. Now, with this announcement, it was becoming a supplier -in competition with that sector.

The new division, we were told, would help Channel 4 invest in Intellectual Property (IP) ownership.

And then CEO Alex Mahon offered reassurance - saying: “Indies will always be the lifeblood of Channel 4, and this new direction is an essential element of our strategy to underpin the long-term sustainability of Channel 4”

But not everyone was convinced.

Wayne Garvie of Sony Pictures Television was direct: “It won’t work...” he said.

C4 doesn’t own IP and has no knowledge of how to run it.

It could be potentially disastrous given C4’s limited resources.”

Channel 4 begs to differ. But this moment - and the reaction to it - highlighted the vital importance of IP - and the difficulties in the indie sector.

In 2024, total revenues earned by UK production companies grew - but only by 1.4% - or £49m. International business was important to that growth.

Because look at revenue from UK commissions - down to £1.74 billion.

And that is having consequences.

According to BECTU, 7 in 10 screen industry workers are struggling financially.

The issues in the production sector go deeper than the relationship between indies and Channel 4. But the announcement of Channel 4 Productions highlighted the pressure that both are under.

5. The 5th and final moment came on 27 February,

The BBC’s Chief Content Officer Charlotte Moore announced she would step down.

Two months later Alex Mahon of C4, did the same.

Two pivotal roles would be changing hands at a pivotal time.

For the BBC there is an awful lot at stake. And it has a story it wants to tell.

In September 2024, Charlotte Moore said ‘Our digital transformation strategy is working’

As evidence - the BBC announced that iPlayer was the fastest growing VOD service in the UK.

The BBC’s good news kept coming. On Christmas Day, it delivered all of the top ten of most viewed programmes.

But, for some, there are also reasons for concern - if we look beyond linear. In the most recent data for total video viewing for individual services in British homes - so this is everything - TV and video, short, medium and long-form.

Recent data shows iPlayer on 4%.

Netflix on 8%.

YouTube on 14%.

This is all relevant as Charter Renewal approaches.

In a speech in May, BBC DG Tim Davie said: “When it comes to funding we are not asking for the status quo. We want modernisation and reform. But in doing so we must safeguard universality.”

That universality means making content that is relevant and popular across our society.

Leading the BBC’s effort will be Kate Philips - who’s replaced Charlotte Moore.

The decisions she takes will be crucial as the BBC heads into Charter Renewal.

As for Channel 4 - we wait on who will be its new CEO. But the challenge is no secret - establish a new business model away from linear advertising.

Channel 4 says its Fast Forward strategy is working towards just that.5556 Its digital revenue was up to 30% of total revenue last year.

But to some, fundamentally, this doesn’t look viable - for Channel 4 - or PSBs as a whole.

Sir Peter Bazalgette, the former Chairman of ITV said: “We don’t have a strategy for their survival (public service broadcasting). It’s that serious.

“Mergers may well be part of the answer.”

Or Lord Vaizey, the former Culture Minister:

“The UK only has room for two domestic broadcasters.”

Needless to say, that is not universally accepted. But the very structure of public service broadcasting is in play as these new leaders take the reins.

Their decisions will have a major bearing on the future of PSBs.

These are five moments, there are many more.

This year has given us more detail on where this industry is heading. And - lest there was any doubt - it’s shown the speed and scale of the change the industry is navigating.

Thanks for listening.

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The James MacTaggart Memorial Lecture is our keynote speech by a leading figure in television. This year, we welcomed Editor-in-Chief of The Observer and founder of Tortoise Media, James Harding, to deliver the flagship lecture’s 50th edition. If you would prefer to watch the lecture, you can find it on our YouTube.

When my grandmother died, she left me her typewriter. It’s an old Erika made by Seidel and Naumann in Dresden. And it sits on a shelf by my desk at home. My family were German Jews living in Berlin and my grandmother, a strong-willed woman, had wanted to be a journalist. Just as she was getting started, the Nazis took power and, almost as soon as they did, they barred Jews from working in the press. So, you can imagine, the typewriter feels like quite an inheritance – there to remind me how fortunate I am to work as a journalist and like a question in itself, as if to say: if you have access to the ink, what are you going to do with it?

My grandparents escaped Germany in the 1930s and came to the UK. Elsie, my grandmother, became a tour guide. She led coaches round the country; she sat in the front of the bus, smoking 80 Silk Cut a day and told German tourists the stories of these islands, her own punchy lecture on British values – democracy and freedom of speech, rule of law and fair play.

The first time I came to Edinburgh, it was with her. I was in my early teens and she had brought me along to see the sights and carry the tourists’ bags in and out from the coach. I can’t think what Elsie would think of the privilege this is, to be back in Edinburgh again today, delivering the MacTaggart in its 50th year to a room of people who have the freedom to tell stories and voice those values to the world. But I can imagine what, in her heavily accented way, she would want to say. So, let me get straight to the point.

While I have been writing this MacTaggart Lecture, the typewriter has come to represent something else. It’s become a symbol of the fear I have for the age we’re in, the fear that politics and technology are doing untold damage to trust in the world. On the one hand, politicians are trying to control or cancel the media, particularly news. On the other, AI is beginning to lay waste to the economics of information, while also remaking the job of story-tellers. What then for the person at the typewriter – for the reporters of news, the programme makers and the creators of culture?

A shared understanding of what’s true is disappearing before our eyes. We’re more divided, more certain we’re right, more suspicious of the motives of others. Large numbers of people are giving up on the idea of facts, going with their gut on science and medicine, denying climate change, some are getting the measles. More people are paranoid, prone to conspiracy theories, convinced that the ends justify the means.

A grimly familiar past feels dangerously close. An unrecognisable future is coming at us frighteningly fast.

We live in worried times, when fears stretch well beyond TV: can the market economy work for people? Will technology destroy more than it creates? Can democracy fix the problems we face?

But the media, most of all television, is not a bystander. We have the power to help mend much of what’s broken. There are many things to be done. This evening, I’m going to focus, largely, on one.

The BBC is the most important source of information in this country and, I’d argue, around the world; it is the best defence of truth and trust against the lies of dictators and demagogues; it’s what sets the UK apart both from propagandists in the likes of China and Russia and the shouting match in the US that is doing such damage to cohesion and democracy. This evening, I’m going to make the case that if we want to build confidence in shared facts and respect for the truth we need to establish the independence of the BBC. And I’ll try to set out how: to put it beyond the reach of politicians, to resource it properly and to open it up.

It’s time to choose if we want to keep chipping away at it or double down on it. If we are, to coin a phrase, traitors or faithfuls. When the government established the independence of the Bank of England in 1997, it put confidence in the central institution of the economy ahead of politics; the government today can and should do the same for the shared institution in our society by giving real independence to the BBC.

At this point, I should warn you that I once gave a speech and Jimmy Tarbuck came up to me afterwards to complain that it was too serious. I fear he won’t like this one – and he probably won’t be the only one.

The MacTaggart lecture has, I realise, been delivered by all kinds of people – playwrights and presenters, comedians and film stars. The Roy family have each had a go: Logan, Kendall and Shiv, as ever, to clean up the mess. A programme-maker, a government policymaker, a TV executive, a visionary and a troublemaker – and that was just the year John Birt did it.

I’m not those things, I’m a journalist, not an insider on the world of television now, but, forgive the plug, an observer. I’m afraid I’m going to talk about news, it’s what I know. Happily, I’m aware from my days covering the MacTaggart as an FT reporter, what matters isn’t what’s said in this room, but in the post-match analysis in the bar. Perhaps we can get Gary to host it.

The TikTok video version of this year’s MacTaggart goes something like this: if you’re a viewer, you can’t believe your luck, it’s an all you can eat buffet of tasty TV on all kinds of screen; if you’re in the business, it feels like everyone’s on Mounjaro, the commissioners have lost their appetites and their libido – perhaps not just metaphorically. And, in news, already the most uneconomic of the food trucks in TV, there’s bickering over whether to serve high fibre or the ultra-processed foods the kids like, while fighting each other over the horrors in the world around us.

The bigger picture is a world being remade by technology and politics. Generative AI is already doing so much better and faster, we all use it or will want to use it. It’s exciting – and terrifying. When it comes to technology, we should know by now not to fear what we fear, but what we want. AI is going to replace plenty of jobs and cut loads of costs; it will reprice the entertainment business and rewire the information economy. In news, it will more or less end the links business model – referrals from search to stories – with devastating consequences for newsrooms that depend on either advertising or subscriptions; Facebook brought us post-truth, ChatGPT might well mean post-journalism.

In the US, Donald Trump has normalised political interference in the media. He has intimidated the commercial media, incentivised self-censorship and defunded public service broadcasters. We’d be very naive to think something similar can’t happen here.

The largest cohort of Americans – 36% – say they have no trust in the media at all; as it happens, the same percentage believe the 2020 election was stolen. Donald Trump won a second term with the support of 32% of eligible American voters. As of just over a year ago, more than half of Americans believe there was a second gunman in the assassination of John F Kennedy and nearly one in five thinks the moon landings were faked and staged in Arizona. Just over 40% of people think the following statement is definitely or probably true: “Regardless of who is officially in charge of the government and other organisations, there is a single group of people who secretly control events and rule the world together.”

And truth decay has consequences. If you want the preconditions for nativism and racism, antisemitism and Islamophobia, cynicism and selfishness, distrust of professionals, experts and authority, the rise of vandalism, democratic backsliding, corruption, communal division and vigilantism, it’s in the growing suspicion that nothing we’re told is true.

In response, there are many things that need doing. We need to set the terms for the streamers, the platforms and the tech bros who have been buying up the biggest names in news and television, who own the bots that will generate more content than ever. This is where the biggest challenges to truth and trust now lie. Streamers and platforms like YouTube are treated as if they don’t have the responsibilities that TV has, as if they don’t have requirements to promote news or give prominence to local, educational or practical content. The principles that applied to television that enables a cohesive society and a competitive industry should surely apply to them. The same, only more so, applies to AI. We’re set to repeat the mistake of the first internet generation, waiting, watching and hoping for the best. For the first time in history, the most popular source of information is not going to be human. AI will soon be able to create limitless synthetic data, billions of internets of words and pictures. A machine is behind the typewriter.

Essential as those things are, this is not an away day for regulators. It’s a festival to talk about television.

When John McGrath, the playwright, gave the first lecture in honour of James MacTaggart, he was pretty bleak: TV, he said, was neglected, limited and “impotent - its style a matter of pretty pictures”. It was, he said, like listening to “a symphony over the telephone”. Heaven knows what he’d make of us watching it over the telephone. But the fact is that, today, the real world is on TV. Television has confounded the doomsayers. Drama is living through a magical age of realism. We understand each other so much better than we did in 1975, thanks in no small part to reality TV. And the TV screen is so much more accessible to anyone with something to say – in that sense, more real, more democratic. Morecambe and Wise invited Diana Rigg, Des O’Connor and Pan’s People onto the Christmas Special on the BBC fifty years ago; Bernard Delfont chose the line-up for the Royal Variety Performance on ITV. Today, the Sidemen didn’t need to get chosen by the channels to earn a bigger audience on YouTube. TV is the most influential – and enjoyable - mirror of our times.

It is also the most powerful cultural force in our lives and the most creative force in our culture. The film studios have largely given up on comic or satirical films, instead preferring remakes, franchises, spin-offs. TV still prizes the new idea, it’s where original story-telling happens these days, it’s still what we all talk about. And, for that reason, it’s the screen, whether in the home or in the hand, that politicians want to control, that’s where the resistance, polemical and, better still, satirical happens. TV is the most interesting and important medium in the world today. And, while we have a wild ride ahead of us, it will be for years to come.

Of course, it doesn’t feel that way. Television is being violently disrupted and is increasingly polarised. If you are a writer or producer, you’re being told there’s no money or you’re waiting for a green light that never comes. If you’re working at a commercial broadcaster, you can’t commission half of what you want, because the TV ad market has migrated to social media. If you’re a PSB, you worry that you can’t afford the price of talent given the competition from streamers. Then, if you’re a streamer, you fear you’re in an unwinnable arms race with other streamers chasing audiences struggling to afford the pricey subscriptions. If you’re a YouTube talent with more viewers than a nightly news show, you still can’t make the economics work. If you’re a YouTube executive, you’ve got a creeping anxiety that ChatGPT is going to kill off search and, with it, the Google goose that lays the golden egg.

In other words, if you’re in the entertainment business you’re thinking this doesn’t feel like the golden age, if it ever did, it feels like The Last of Us: we’re just trying to survive as the fungus of new things eats us alive.

If it’s any comfort, it feels worse in news. The audience is divided, advertising is deserting it, there’s an exponential increase in AI generated content and, with it, a new, seemingly unwinnable contest for attention.

At the same time, newsrooms are in a furious argument with ourselves over the coverage of Israel and Gaza. What’s happening there is heart-breaking; it’s no surprise that it’s the cause of such painful divisions between people, it’s very hard to view dispassionately. This is true for all media organisations and, as we’ve seen this year, particularly the BBC: it is about as difficult as it gets in news.

This summer, Lisa Nandy has weighed in. The Culture Secretary’s office insists she did not explicitly ask Samir Shah, the BBC Chair, to deliver up the D-G’s resignation after the Bob Vylan death chants at Glastonbury were streamed on BBC iPlayer. But people inside the BBC were left in no doubt that was the message. The place became paranoid about how the BBC itself would cover the story; people around him thought the political pressure would be too much. Whatever your view of the hate speech vs freedom of speech issues, an overbearing government minister doesn’t help anyone. The hiring and firing of the editor-in-chief of the country’s leading newsroom and cultural organisation should not be the job of a politician. It’s chilling.

I am Jewish, proudly so. I’m proud, too, to have worked for the most important news organisation in the world. The BBC is not institutionally anti-semitic. It’s untrue to say it is. It’s also unhelpful – much better to correct the mistakes and address the judgment calls that have been wrong, than smear the institution, impugn the character of all the people who work there and, potentially, undermine journalists in the field working in the most difficult and dangerous of conditions.

The BBC has, for sure, made mistakes. I speak from experience – in my time there, I made some serious ones. And it’s fair to say that the BBC can be much too slow to correct them and, when it does, it can sometimes overdo it, sometimes stand on its dignity. For what it’s worth, I thought the BBC was wrong not to use the word terrorist for the attacks of October 7th; journalists shouldn’t censor words, but use them accurately. I’m in the camp that believes a brilliant football pundit like Gary Lineker should be able to have views as a citizen, as well as a job as a BBC broadcaster. And while there’s been plenty of comment on current affairs programmes on Gaza – what the BBC has run and what it’s pulled – I’ll spare you my views, because I’m well aware that it’s easier to judge the process with hindsight or sound off when you’re outside it.

It’s different when you’re in it. In fact, I might well have made or agreed to many of those decisions if I were still at the BBC. Because the BBC requires a level of political judgment in its management that is unlike any other media organisation.

This is not, by the way, a comment on the director-general. It's a hell of a job and I wouldn't want to do it. Anyone who cares about the BBC should be grateful to Tim Davie: he has hired brilliant people and let them loose to make fantastic programmes, he has transformed the business in building Studios, he is spreading its footprint across the country, he is a quietly determined tech evangelist when others are putting their heads in the sand and, with a resilience that is selfless, he acts as a human shield through crises and scandals that have not been of his making, but that he has answered for honourably and openly.

But the point I want to make is that while mistakes will always happen, the BBC has to second-guess the consequences of those mistakes, because it serves the public, but answers to politicians.

The BBC chair is appointed, in effect, by the Prime Minister. Richard Sharp was Boris Johnson’s choice; Marmaduke Hussey was Margaret Thatcher’s, Gavyn Davies was Tony Blair’s. Half of the board’s non-executive directors are chosen by the government: when Emily Maitlis was here, she pointed out that Robbie Gibb, No. 10’s former spin doctor, is on the board and keenly involved in editorial oversight; he still is.

The Chancellor sets the budget. The licence fee settlement is negotiated with the Department for Culture Media and Sport, but, when it comes to it, it’s decided in No 10 and No 11; the most important newsroom in the country operates in the knowledge that the editorial budget is, ultimately, set in Downing Street. After he left government, George Osborne came to talk to BBC leadership – I was no longer at the BBC, so not in the room – but I’m told he said that he had been “surprised” to discover the power the Chancellor had over the BBC. It was, he said, essentially unchecked.

Allow me a trip back into the world of newspapers. When I became editor of The Times, I took William Rees-Mogg, the former editor, for lunch. He told me the most important thing for an editor was never to get too close to the government, never, in his words, walk into No 10 wanting something in return. Geoffrey Dawson, The Times’ editor in the 1930s, had got too close to the Chamberlain government and backed appeasement. When William became editor in 1967, the paper was still trying to get over it.

The DG and the chair of the BBC always have an eye to charter renewal and the licence fee settlement. As they should do. It determines the work and the revenue of the BBC. As 2027 approaches, the BBC will move into Charter renewal mode.

For good reason: its survival is at stake.

This is true constitutionally. It’s extraordinary, when you think about it, that if Parliament chooses not to renew the Royal Charter in 2027, the BBC will cease to exist; this, by the way, is different from universities or other organisations that are established by Charter in perpetuity. The BBC, which politicians can’t help but keep on a leash, is, in effect, on a 10-year contract.

And it’s true politically. Donald Trump has, as you’ll have seen, cut $1.1bn from the funding of public broadcasters in the US, killing off the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, forcing the closure of many local stations and hacking away at NPR and PBS. Internationally, the Trump administration has been more sweeping still, summarily sacking staff and closing down the Voice of America, Radio Free Asia and Radio Free Europe. It’s a popular move, backed by the majority in the House of Representatives, turning into government policy the MAGA politics of bashing the mainstream media. Donald Trump has driven a partisan divide in trust: 54% of Democrats trust the media; it’s just 12% of Republicans.

A similar partisan gap is opening up here: 32% of Labour voters trust the media, 13% of Reform voters. The Reform Party’s manifesto commitment on the BBC is this: “The out-of-touch wasteful BBC is institutionally biased. The TV licence is taxation without representation. We will scrap it. In a world of on-demand TV, people should be free to choose.” In other words, the one-time reality TV star who leads Reform has some bracing reality in store for TV. It’s recklessly complacent to ignore it. What’s happened in the US is, as likely as not, going to happen here. We have to address this now.

The BBC matters beyond its own output. Michael Grade famously said here that it’s “the BBC which keeps us honest”. It’s also the BBC which keeps us together. Without anything that keeps you together, there is no floor on the decay of truth. The BBC is a touchstone, it belongs to all of us. Even in our most furious arguments with the BBC about its subjects and stories, we reinforce our belief that common narratives and agreed facts matter, in the reality of objective truth, the importance of a sense of proportion, the openness to differences of opinion.

Nearly one hundred years ago, John Reith fended off a government attempt to take control of the BBC. At the height of the General Strike in 1926, Winston Churchill, then Chancellor, sought to commandeer the BBC; Reith lobbied Stanley Baldwin, the prime minister, and saw off Churchill’s attempt to make it a mouthpiece of government. Independence has been a foundational principle, accepted by politicians, relied upon by programme makers and expected by the public, ever since. Margaret Thatcher once told David Dimbleby that “every time I try to do anything about the BBC, people come out of the woodwork to defend it”. We like to think there’s a bipartisan commitment to the BBC. But the reality is not like that any more. It’s not a bipartisan country; there’s not the same commitment.

Political interference – and the perception of a political presence looming over the BBC – is a problem, one that we’ve got too accustomed to. And it looks likely to get worse. We need to get on with putting the country’s most important editorial and creative organisation beyond the reach of politicians now.

To depoliticise the BBC means changing how appointments are made and budgets are set. The BBC chair and board of directors should be chosen, not by the Prime Minister, but by the board itself and then, like other such organisations, with the approval of Ofcom. The BBC will attract more and better people to apply for those jobs if they don’t feel like the appointment is a political stitch-up. The Charter should be open-ended. And the licence fee – or any future funding arrangement – should not be decided behind closed doors by the Culture Secretary and the Chancellor, but, as in Germany, set transparently and rationally by an independent commission that impartially advises Government and is scrutinised by Parliament.

The BBC, of course, needs to be democratically accountable. Painful as it can be when you work there, the fact that it's subject to the extremely watchful eye of the press is one of its strengths. In the pages of the papers I’ve worked for, both the FT and The Times, we’ve been critical of the BBC. But accountability and scrutiny are different from control, different from politicians with a grip on the purse strings and the appointment of the people at the top.

For more than a decade now, politicians have talked pretty about the BBC, then piled on obligations and chipped away at its funding: the deals on over-75s, World Service, loosening up on non-payment of the licence fee means the BBC’s funding has been in decline in real terms for more than a decade. Cost-cutting has become part of the culture of the place. But the BBC’s best moves – creating the iPlayer, building Media City in Salford – have come when it’s had the budget to do new things, not just kill off old ones.

BBC independence means giving it the resources it needs. Not freezing its funding yet again, but doubling down. We’re at the beginning of a new information age, if we want it to be truly creative, innovative and competitive globally, we can’t short-change the BBC again. We need, surely, to be thinking about a mix of funding that gets closer to doubling its resources. Because, obviously, given the cost of living, that’s not going to happen just through the licence fee. Over five years, nearly 2.5m households have dropped out of paying the licence fee, so this needs fixing: it’s expensive and unfair on those who pay. If we believe in the universality of the BBC, we need to return to the principle in some form or other that every household pays. But, happily, the licence fee is not the only source of income: the BBC is building an impressive business in Studios; it has the potential to earn more for its content on streamers and platforms; it should lead the way in striking deals with generative AI companies on meaningful pricing of its reliable, ceaselessly renewed library of content, something that would help set the terms for other UK news and media companies that don’t get a hearing from the new generation of tech giants.

Today, the UK has a renewed commitment to global security. It’s time, then, for a proper funding deal for the BBC World Service – the UK’s most powerful expression of soft power just as US public media is pulling back. A side note: the World Service’s weekly audience is bigger than the entire subscription base of Netflix, which has an exciting mantra “to entertain the world” but not a patch on the BBC’s “nation shall speak peace unto nation”. A properly funded World Service could reach a billion in the decade to come, an ambition that should appeal to all in this country and a contribution to fighting misinformation worldwide.

Perhaps the biggest buttress to independence is openness. Trust is what underpins the BBC. The suspicion that the BBC is captive to one worldview erodes that trust; openness to others can rebuild it.

The BBC has long been indispensable to the UK’s creative industries, sustaining skills and giving people a break they wouldn’t have got elsewhere. But it’s much patchier, sometimes positively resistant, when it comes to working with others in news and current affairs. There’s an assistant editor on the Today programme who chooses which stories from the papers to plug at 6.10 and 7.40. There’s the Local Democracy Reporters Programme which we set up to work with local newsrooms, providing money and reach to their journalism. The BBC has started choosing a few podcasts to run on Sounds.

But why can some editions of Panorama be made by independents, but no editions of Newsnight? It’s illogical, as if it’s somehow alright to open up a fraction of current affairs to independents but hold the line on news. I understand why this thinking holds. Traditionally, the BBC has felt that News is too important and too core to its mission to be opened up. But, if the lesson of recent years is that it needs to head off accusations of narrowness in its agenda and its approach which are corrosive of public trust, then no BBC division needs openness more than News which, paradoxically, has the least of it.

So, imagine a BBC that thinks of itself more as the People’s Platform as well as a Public Service Broadcaster, one that’s home to more varied thinking but holds true to standards of truth and accuracy, diversity of opinion and fair treatment of people in the news. What might that involve?

One, it would open up to outside producers to compete to produce news and current affairs programmes. Making programmes like Newsnight open to competition and inviting offers for new shows would do for the BBC’s mission to inform what it has long done for entertainment – namely bring in fresh ideas and different people, encourage the BBC itself to be more innovative and exciting, spread the economic benefits of the BBC’s strength to other parts of the journalism business in the UK.

Two, there are things BBC News can’t and shouldn’t do, such as take sides, have opinions, champion causes; but there is public service journalism that other newsrooms can do. So, if the BBC were to set aside a fund for independent reporting in the public interest, it really could help deal with the UK’s own news deserts and information inequality.

And, three, it could serve as the equivalent of a digital newsstand, a place where you could access a much wider range of voices, where you could give reach to new providers as they get going, where you could broaden what qualifies as news to include more of what’s happening in the world of food, fashion, things people love.

The idea of an open platform would invite the BBC to think not just about how it informs and entertains, but how it educates too – how it could partner with the Open University, how it might work with AI developers to provide a BBC GPT, one that enables people to ask questions without handing over every last detail of what’s on their minds to US tech corporations that have proved obstinately unaccountable in the UK. This is about more than the BBC, it’s a national investment in our future that will come back to reap multi-platform rewards that an investment in no other UK organisation can.

Impartiality is essential to the BBC. It’s also tricky, as most people don’t know what it is, those who do are often the ones who define it and it’s commonly abused by politicians to insert themselves into the conversation about what should be covered by the BBC and how. But an open BBC would do a good deal for impartiality. It would be a BBC that’s impartial within its own output and a BBC that is impartial across the outside views it hosts.

Thomas Jefferson made the best ever argument for independent journalism: “The basis of our governments being the opinion of the people…Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.”

Last year, Tortoise, the slow news start-up that I left the BBC to found in 2018, bought The Observer, the world’s oldest Sunday newspaper founded in 1791. Not everyone, it’s fair to say, loved the idea of it leaving The Guardian, which had been its home for 30 years. We believe, of course, that we have bought much more than a newspaper. The Observer is a brand; better still, it’s a promise. The Observer was founded with a pledge to share “every species of knowledge that may conduce to the happiness of society”. Not far from John Reith’s belief that the BBC’s job is “to bring the best of everything into the greatest number of homes”. George Orwell, who, after leaving the BBC, wrote for The Observer, liked to call it “the enemy of nonsense”. Media institutions that last know what they’re for.

And also, for whom. The BBC, unlike all the other great powers in the world of information and entertainment, is for everyone.

One morning when I was running BBC News, a story cropped up on the newslist at the 9 o’clock meeting. Vinyl was back, sales of records were apparently soaring. So we thought it would be fun to send a reporter and a camera down Oxford Street to ask people why. The crew stopped a couple of young people, held up a record and said: “Hi, we’re from the BBC Six O’Clock News, do you know what this is?” The teenager replied: “Yes, it’s a record.” Then, paused. “What’s the Six O’Clock News?”

You might take an upbeat view of that moment: it’s exciting to think that there’s so much to play for and it shows that you get the best stories sending reporters out to find out what’s really going on. But it’s also warning of a world without a common sense of our story, without a shared understanding of the value of facts in an argument, without a place that connects us across generations and continents, one where we find ourselves sitting in the dark, humming those words that Joni Mitchell laid down on vinyl 50 odd years ago: “Don’t it always seem to go, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

The world is not as we were promised, either by the politicians or the tech evangelists. It’s a world where everyone has a typewriter, but fewer are seen or heard. The most powerful man in the world types out soundbites, in caps, regardless of fact; the richest man is more powerful than any television channel, typing unchecked to an audience of 200 million people instantaneously, weighing in behind politicians and parties in places he barely knows.

We in this room are lucky enough to have access to what a century ago was the typewriter; today it's the screen. TV, in all its forms, is the means of communicating most meaningfully to the largest number of people. The biggest and best typewriter of all in this country is the BBC; my hope this evening has been to make the case for why and how we take care of it.

If we wait to see what the future has in store for us, I fear that the recent past can give us the answer already. Bystanding is surrender. We can choose the society we live in; or we can choose not to choose. To be the enemies of nonsense, we must act now.

Thank you.

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Welcome to Culture Digest, your cultural cheat sheet compiled by the staff at The TV Foundation. Whether you’re craving live theatre, a binge-worthy series, or something weird and wonderful to read on the train, we’ve got you covered.

🎭 IRL EXPERIENCES

It’s summer, and that means stepping away from the screens and diving into some live experiences:

OSCAR at the Crown – Part rave, part musical theatre, all showstopping vocals. A queer retelling of Oscar Wilde's exile and legacy, done in sequins, sweat, and stilettos. Dare we say the perfect Pride Month pick?

The Crucible – A charged and timely revival of Arthur Miller’s iconic drama, with the kind of atmosphere only the Globe can deliver.

Evita – Back and belting. Rachel Zegler proves she’s got that star quality in droves. A true “you need to see it to believe it” experience.

📚 BOOKS

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley – A literary, time-traveling crush you didn't know you needed. Romance, history, and sharp prose make this one stand out.

The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing by Melissa Bank – Smart, funny, and full of emotional gut punches. This one hits different every time you return to it.

The Wonder Spot by Melissa Bank – One of those books you want to press into a friend’s hands. This Guardian piece explains why it deserves more love.

Panics by Barbara Molinard – Imagine Kafka took up poetry and rage. A haunting and fragmented journey through existential dread and feminist fury.

Sofia Coppola Archive – Technically a coffee table book — but really, it’s a portal into one of modern cinema’s most singular aesthetic minds.

🧠 FEELING INSPIRED?

Want to level up your media literacy or dig deeper into what's shaping the screen industry? Here's what we've been reading and listening to lately:

👉 TV Cinematographer: Stealing the Show at the Emmys (The Ankler) – A great piece spotlighting the visual storytellers behind prestige TV’s cinematic glow-up.

🎧 Podcasts we’re obsessed with:

• Culture Study – Pop culture deep dives with a brainy twist.

• There Are No Girls On The Internet – Essential listening on digital culture and feminism.

• The Protocol – Nuanced, compassionate, and timely. Protect trans kids now and forever.

• Deep Read – Big ideas and sharp analysis with zero filler.

📺 TV

You know we couldn’t make a list without talking telly. Here's what’s had us glued:

What It Feels Like For a Girl (BBC) – A gut-punch of a show in the best way possible.

The Rehearsal S2 (NOW) – Nathan Fielder is back, making us question reality, morality, and whether it’s okay to laugh while feeling deeply uncomfortable. (It is.)

Titan: The OceanGate Submersible Disaster (Netflix) – Tense, fascinating, and frankly unbelievable. True-crime energy meets deep-sea horror.

Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy (Netflix) – A devastating but necessary watch that asks all the right questions about responsibility and spectacle.

Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem (Netflix) – Not the flashiest doc, but a strange and compelling look at Toronto’s infamous mayoral scandal. (We hadn’t heard of it either!)

The Handmaid’s Tale (Channel 4)– Still chilling. Still painfully relevant. Still watching.

🎬 FILM

The Ballad of Wallis Island – A poetic, politically charged feature that hasn’t left our heads. Quietly powerful and criminally underseen.

Paddington in Peru – Still wholesome, still hilarious, still making us weep softly in the dark.

Grenfell: Uncovered – Premiered at Sheffield Doc Fest, and received a standing ovation. A devastating look at systemic failure, community grief, and resistance.

F1 – Come for the speed, stay for the drama. High-stakes motorsport as prestige entertainment.

Jaws – Because some classics never go out of style. A perfect summer rewatch — preferably not before swimming.

And finally…

🎲 IN THE OFFICE

Cinematrix – If you stop by the office and catch us in a passionate debate about which actor starred in that 2004 indie drama with what's-her-name... it's Cinematrix. Our unofficial team sport. Equal parts trivia, memory test, and cinema obsession.

Got something we should check out? Hit reply and let us know — we’re always looking for our next favourite thing.

Hello culture vultures! As we hurtle toward summer (seriously, how is it almost June?), our team has been soaking up a bit of everything — film, television, books, and a few chaotic weekend outings. Below, you’ll find the things we’ve been loving, questioning, and raving about over coffee this month. As ever, consider this your informal guide to good storytelling — wherever it might appear.

TV

📺 The Genius Game (ITVX) – If you’re missing the clever machinations of The Traitors, try this. South Korea delivers high-concept competition TV like no one else.

📺 The Four Seasons (Netflix) – No spoilers, but this quiet, elegant drama crept up on us. Lush in tone, loaded with subtext.

📺 Love on the Spectrum US (S3) (Netflix) – Still heartfelt, still funny, still human. Reality TV at its kindest.

📺 The Piano (Channel 4) – Turns out a train station can be the most moving concert hall in the UK. Beautifully filmed and unpretentiously emotional.

📺 Matlock (NOW) – Kathy Bates doing double duty as a razor-sharp grieving mother posing as a sweet southern bell of a lawyer. Yeah, it’s as good as it sounds.

FILM

🎬 Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning – Tom Cruise runs. Things explode. We’re not immune to popcorn cinema, okay?

🎬 Hotel Coolgardie – An older documentary but still devastatingly relevant. A tense, quiet examination of gender, isolation, and the deeply ingrained microaggressions that shape public spaces. Not a comfortable watch —but an important one.

🎬 The Wild Robot - Oscar nominated. Can a robot learn to love? Bring tissues — it’ll leave a lump in your throat.

🎬 Paddington 2 – Because sometimes, pure joy is a radical act. Always worth a rewatch, especially if life feels a bit too cynical.

IRL EXPERIENCES

🎭 Moulin Rouge! The Musical – Camp. Maximalist. Joyful. Go for the rotating elephant, stay for the absurd number of pop mashups.

🎭 The Lightning Thief (musical) – Teen angst + Greek mythology = a surprisingly winning campy combo.

🎭 Conversations After Sex – A sparse but tender play that lingers. If (when) this gets a remount, please see it.

📖 Offprint at Tate Modern – A mad, brilliant whirlwind of independent publishing. Books, zines, conversations, and chaos. RIP David Lynch — your books now cost as much as a week’s rent.

🎞️ Close-Up Film Centre – Part video archive, part coffee sanctuary. An East End gem. If you’re in the area, pop in and lose yourself in film history — or just a great flat white.

BOOKS

📖 The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart – Technically for younger readers, but full of smart twists and moral clarity that’s refreshing.

📖 Die, My Love by Ariana Harwicz – A fever dream of a novel. Brutal, poetic, and already heading to the big screen via Lynne Ramsay (fresh out of Cannes). Read it before it’s everywhere.

📖 Black Sunset: Hollywood Sex, Lies, Glamour, Betrayal and Raging Egos by Clancy Sigal – Old Hollywood scandal meets leftist politics. Sigal’s life as an agent-turned-writer (and FBI surveillance subject) is wild. Barbara Stanwyck, Humphrey Bogart, communist pamphlets — it’s all here, and it’s all true (apparently?).

MUSIC

🎧 Self Esteem – “A Complicated Woman” is an absolute vibe. Bold, brilliant pop with teeth. Put it on while walking too fast or feeling your feelings — preferably both.

🎧 CMAT – Taylor Swift for girls who drink Guinness and probably take too long to do their washing up. Always the cowboy, never the cow!

That’s about it for this month’s Culture Digest. We’ll leave you with that video of Tom Cruise calling out a fan for eating all their popcorn…

@idontreadthescript @idontreadthescript ♬ original sound - SAM

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Got something we should check out? Hit reply and let us know — we’re always looking for our next favourite thing.

After an unseasonably sunny April in London, we can’t blame you if you’ve been slacking on your screen time. We, however, have been nestled up in our cocoons just waiting for the day someone, anyone, asks us what we’ve been watching. Here we are world, listen to us as we scream into the void:

TV

📺 High Potential (Disney+) – What started as a lighthearted take on the procedural genre ended with suprising tension and anticipation for the next season.
📺 The Last of Us S2 (Sky, NOW)– We won’t blame you if you abandon this series after the second episode (iykyk), but sticking with it is sure to bring us even more gut punches and tears.
📺 The Stolen Girl (Disney+) – Was this watched in one sitting during a complete bed rot session? Yes. Could we tell you any plot details? No. Take that as you wish.
📺 Last One Laughing UK (Prime Video) – The shocking 29^th(!) installment of the LOL franchise employs UK comedians to make each other chuckle. It’s easy watching, and delightful to see the antics of some of the country’s funniest when they’ve got nothing but each other to distract them.
📺 Your Friends & Neighbors (Apple TV+) – This dark comedy is still ramping up to the end of its first series (and already has a renewal ordered!), but what we’ve seen so far has been smart, edgy and entertaining. Also, Jon Hamm.
📺 Andor (Disney+) – Star Wars keeps pumping out content and we will eat it up every single time.

On the analysis side, anyone remember The Good Life? Take a look at this deep dive –maybe it wasn’t that ‘good’ after all?

FILM

🎬 Sinners – If you haven’t fallen for the hype yet, let this be our urging to GO SEE SINNERS. Does getting buzzed into our office building count as asking for permission to enter? If so, we may need to relocate.
🎬 Pride & Prejudice – 20 years on, Kiera Knightley and *that* hand flex are still making us swoon. If you didn’t catch one of the in-cinema anniversary screenings, might we recommend a viewing party with your closest Janeites?
🎬 Wonka – We can’t help it, a movie that sees Timmy T return to his delightful theatre kid routes just soothes the soul.
🎬 Flintoff – This new look at Freddie Flintoff’s life-altering crash in December 2022 is unflinching, but somehow still finds a way to warm our hearts.

PODCASTS

🎙️ The Big Picture – There’s no shortage of podcasts (or Substacks, ahem) telling you what to watch these days, but The Big Picture nails the brief, bringing you the best of the best for guests and deep dives into cult faves and soon-to-be-classics.
🎙️ How Do You Cope? – This old show is still finding new listeners through its tender takes on love, grief and life’s softer moments.
🎙️ Alex Andreou’s Podyssey – We’re all suckers for Greek mythology these days, right? Alex Andreou’s Podyssey scratches the itch and delivers a fresh take on old tales and discusses the themes we’ve loved exploring for millennia.
🎙️ Aftermath: Hunt for the Anthrax Killer – A new podcast diving into the somehow mostly forgotten frenzy of America’s anthrax killer in the wake of September 2001. A quick Google search could tell you how this one ends, but the podcast’s storytelling makes us keep tuning in week after week.
🎙️ Murder They Wrote – Can you tell we’re on a true crime kick? This classic from BBC Sounds continues to delight and rivet us with each new episode.

THE OUTSIDE WORLD

🎭 Richard II at the Bridge Theatre – We can admit Jonathan Bailey was the main draw for this one but the star’s performance delivered washed away any fears of his ability to play a wider range of roles than we’ve seen on screen as of late. Now let’s get that man back in a West End musical, pronto.

🎮 Power Up at the Science Museum – This Science Museum exhibit offered a walk (or play) through memory lane for older visitors, and a treasure trove of discoveries to be made for the youngins. Just don’t make the mistake of going on a term break like we did.

🎥 New Cross and Deptford Free Film Festival – From Dr. Strangelove to A Bug’s Life to Wicked, this free film festival, run by locals to New Cross and Deptford is the perfect way to spend the rest of your week.

🧙‍♂️ D&D Night – Friends of the fam at Tower Bridge Arms are hosting their first D&D night this Sunday. Grab your dice and your most lovably nerdy pals to hunker down for a night of bards and beer.

That’s all for now! Please excuse us while we go touch some grass 😮‍💨

It’s basically April, and that’s a prank in and of itself. If you’re not out enjoying the London sun, dive into any of these rad suggestions (though soaking in some vitamin D may be the greatest rec we have).

FILM

🎬 I’m Still Here – Listen, all we’re going to say is it lives up to the hype.
🎬 The Last Showgirl – Pamela Anderson gives us a love letter to showbiz and sequins.
🎬 The Girl with the Needle – For those who like their historical drama with a side of visceral tension.

If anyone has access to The Book of Prince, Ezra Edelman’s now-shelved 9-hour (!!) Prince doc for Netflix, DM us. You’ll get a gold pass to the Festival for life. No joke.

TV

📺 White Lotus (Sky Atlantic, NOW TV) – Apparently, luxury vacations are just trauma bonding with better scenery, but we have no complaints.

📺 Adolescence (Netflix) – Yes, it really is that good. But no surprise, we’ve been major Jack Thorne fans for a loooong time.

📺 Everybody’s Live with John Mulaney (Netflix) – Monkeying around with late-night conventions, actually live (not pre-taped “live”).

📺 Hacks Series 3 Finale (NOW TV) – Now that’s how you set up a next season. Take notes, Hollywood.

📺 Severance Series 2 Finale (Apple TV+) – If someone can please decipher the ~*inner meaning*~ of their Tower Bridge appearance, hmu.

@doeypppThe Severance cast just popped at London Bridge Station! #severance #appletv #fyp #foryoupage #Milchick #adamscott #hellyr #britlower #gwendolinechristie #gemma #DichenLachman

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BOOKS

📖 Sunrise on the Reaping – Suzanne Collins said, “You will suffer,” and we said, “Thank you.”
📖 The Singer’s Gun – Emily St. John Mandel never misses.
📖 Old Wounds – Logan-Ashley Kisner brings trans joy to the horror genre.
📖 The Loves of My Life: A Sex Memoir – Edmund White, serving literary scandal and insight.

PODCASTS

🎙️ Welcome to Emmy Season: Prestige Junkie – The Emmys race is heating up, and so is the discourse.
🎙️ What Went Wrong? – Hollywood disasters that almost weren’t—from Do The Right Thing to Predator.
🎙️ How We Made Your Mother – In the overrun rewatch pod genre, this one manages to have new things to say.

ARTICLES WORTH YOUR TIME

📰 How Duolingo, NBCUniversal, and Creators Corp are taking branded entertainment to the next level
📰 The Value of Designing Memorable Experiences
📰 Jake & Logan Paul: Secrets of the Influencer Economy

THEATRE

🎭 The Seagull (Barbican) – Chekhov, existential dread, London theatre at its finest. We wish you luck in the ticket war 🫡
🎭 Kenrex (Southwark Playhouse) – If you missed this one, the rest of Southwark Playhouse’s season looks 🤌😘 *chefs kiss*

MUSIC

🎵 Chappell Roan – “The Giver” is giving main pop girl energy.
🎵 The Mary Wallopers – Folk meets Irish pub rowdiness, in the best way.
🎵 Sam Fender – If you’re still sad about the state of the world but want to feel something, here you go.

Now go forth and watch!

And yes, we are so serious about Ezra Edelman’s doc. Ezra, pls, call us. 🙏

Ah, February — the month of truly dreary London weather, award season chaos and the creeping realization that January’s resolutions are well and truly abandoned. Whether you need a film to fall in love with, a show to devour, or a book to remind you what it feels like to read something without scrolling, we’ve got you covered.

FILMS: CINEMA TO ESCAPE INTO

Whether you’re looking for a comforting rewatch or something that leaves you questioning everything, these picks offer a bit of both.

• Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy – Because nothing says February like another round of self-deprecating British charm, diary entries, and rom-com antics.

• Thelma – Quirky, unexpected, and exactly the kind of film that sneaks up on you in the best way.

• Luther: Never Too Much – A documentary exploring the life and legacy of the legendary Luther Vandross. Smooth vocals, timeless hits, and a deep dive into the man behind the music.

TV: FOR YOUR NEXT BINGE FIX

From high-stakes crime to razor-sharp comedy, here’s what’s keeping us glued to our screens.

• High Potential (Disney+) – A new take on a procedural that reminds us why we can’t let the format go.

• Paradise (Disney+) – James Marsden as the President? Yes, please. Twists, turns, and tension abound.

• Am I Being Unreasonable? (Sky/BBC iPlayer) – Daisy May Cooper at her absolute best. Twisty, dark, and hilarious.

• The White Lotus (HBO/Sky Atlantic) – A slightly slow start this season, but that’s just Mike White flexing his confidence as a storyteller. Still the best thing on TV, in our humble opinion.

• On the Edge (C4) – A drama anthology highlighting emerging filmmakers, serving up a slice of modern Britain. Extra love for Letting Go and The Final Countdown —both up for New Voice Awards (tickets available here 👀)

• I Got a Monster (Amazon Prime) – A gripping doc on the corrupt Gun Trace Task Force in Baltimore, the real-life inspiration for We Own This City. Tough but essential viewing.

• A Thousand Blows (Disney+) – Because nothing beats a bit of high-stakes, well-choreographed drama.

• SNL 50th Anniversary, Beyond SNL & SNL Homecoming Concert (NOW TV) – A comedy goldmine for those who appreciate the art of the sketch.

• Hacks S3 (NOW TV) – Our favourite no-nonsense comedy writer returns, and we’re here for it.

• Disclaimer (Apple TV+) – Kate Blanchett + Alfonso Cuarón, need we say more?

BOOKS: SOMETHING FOR YOUR NIGHTSTAND

For when you need a break from screens — but still want a story that lingers.

• Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma – Claire Dederer asks the big questions about separating art from the artist. A timely read.

• Screenwriting: The Craft and the Career – Philip Shelley keeps it pragmatic. If you’re a budding screenwriter, take notes.

• All Fours – Miranda July doing what Miranda July does best: weird, wonderful, and completely absorbing.

• Our Evenings – Alan Hollinghurst, master of elegant, incisive storytelling.

• A Psalm for the Wild-Built – Becky Chambers gives us a gentle, philosophical sci-fi read.

• Last Night in Montreal – Emily St. John Mandel before Station Eleven fame — just as lyrical and haunting.

PODCASTS: STORIES TO KEEP YOU COMPANY

Long commutes, lunch breaks, or insomnia — we’ve got you covered.

• Thelma Schoonmaker on This Cultural Life (BBC Sounds/R4) – If you love film editing (or just love film), Thelma is a legend.

• The Con: Kaitlyn’s Baby (BBC Sounds) – A true crime deep dive worth your time.

• Uncanny (BBC Sounds) – Supernatural, eerie, and addictive.

THE ODDS AND ENDS WORTH MENTIONING

Gaming, deep dives, and internet rabbit holes we couldn’t keep to ourselves.

• Replaying The Last of Us 2 – Gearing up for Season 2 in April like true fans.

• How a computer that 'drunk dials' videos is exposing YouTube's secrets – Algorithm drama? We’re in.

• Olyn secures Beatles biopic for its ‘Shopify for filmmakers’ – Indie filmmaking meets tech disruption.

• Who’s Watching What on TV? Who’s to Say? – A deep dive into audience habits in an age of infinite choice.

EXHIBITIONS: CULTURE BEYOND THE SCREEN

Because sometimes, it’s nice to leave the house. Or so we’ve heard.

• Noah Davis @ The Barbican – A must-see for modern art lovers.

• Steve McQueen’s Resistance @ The Turner, Margate – Powerful, thought-provoking, and visually stunning.

That’s it for this month—go forth, watch, read, and listen. See you next month for more highly curated procrastination material.

Well, we did it. We (somehow) made it to the end of January. While each day brings fresh news of impending doom, why not take a break—whether that means turning your brain off or tuning in. Here’s what our team has been consuming this month.

Film

The Academy announced its Oscar nominees earlier this week, with The Brutalist (nabbing an impressive 10 nominations), A Complete Unknown, and The Nickel Boys all making the cut for Best Picture. All three are now in UK cinemas.

Notably absent from the Best Picture category? Sing Sing and A Real Pain — two staff favourites that deserved better.

Other films worth your time: Between the Temples and Babygirl (milk, sadly, not included in your ticket price). Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl also delighted audiences and landed a nomination for Best Animated Feature. And fret not, gentle readers, the film studio has assured us that it has no plans to stop production any time soon.

Saturday Night also finally sees its cinematic release for UK audiences. Pair it with Ladies & Gentleman... 50 Years of SNL Music and you’ve got yourself a weekend’s worth of tribute to one of the most iconic shows of all time.

TV

This month saw the long-awaited return of Severance (Apple TV+) — which launched with an incredible publicity stunt featuring the cast at NYC’s Grand Central Station. Meanwhile, Queer Eye is back to make us cry over home renovations, and we’ve been hooked on The Breakthrough and Manhunt.

Alice in Borderland is also a fave amongst the office, with death scenes rivaling even those of Squid Games. And while it’s definitely a late watch, Desperate Housewives continues to delight.

And yes, obviously, we’ve been glued to The Traitors.

If you're a telly nerd like us, we highly recommend these deep dives into some industry insider stories:

📖 Pandora’s Box: The Greed, Lust, and Lies That Broke Television – Peter Biskind

📖 Like Brothers – The Duplass Brothers

🎥 The Man Who Definitely Didn’t Steal Hollywood – a breakdown of one of Hollywood’s greatest scandals

Podcasts

🎙️ Fashion Neurosis with Bella Freud – A fantastic format for meandering creative and personal conversations. The Zadie Smith and Jonathan Anderson episodes are must-listens.

🎙️ Human Intelligence (BBC Sounds) – The Mary Wollstonecraft episode was particularly fascinating — feminist icon!!

Music

🎵 DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS – Bad Bunny

🎵 Alligator Bites Never Heal – Doechii

In Memoriam: David Lynch

January also marked the loss of screen legend David Lynch. If you’re looking to pay tribute, dust off your Blue Velvet VHS, revisit Twin Peaks, or check out NTS’ beautiful sonic tribute.

Must-Reads

📖 Mike Nichols: A Life – A brilliant biography by Mark Harris. More on Deadline

📖 What an Insomniac Knows – A compelling read in The New Yorker. Read here

📖 The Insidious Charms of the Entrepreneurial Work Ethic – Another great New Yorker piece. Read here

Online Creators We’ve Been Enjoying

📹 BASQUIAT’s Work Ethic – A short but fascinating video essay by Make Art Not Content.

That’s it for this month’s roundup — hopefully, there’s something here to keep you entertained (or at least mildly distracted) as we trudge through February. Let us know what you’ve been watching, reading, or listening to — we’re always looking for our next obsession.

November 14, 2024

Lessons in Television

Freaks and Geeks

I. Introduction

It’s been twenty-five years since Freaks and Geeks, ten since the first time I watched it in my own teen years, and only a month since I revisited the series. Created by Paul Feig and executive-produced by Judd Apatow, Freaks and Geeks is a cult classic American comedy-drama television series first aired on NBC in 1999. Centring Lindsay and Sam Weir, an older sister and younger brother duo, we follow their daily lives at McKinley High School in 1980’s Detroit.

The title is made manifest by their respective friend groups. Following the death of a family member, Lindsay confronts whether any part of the high school experience even matters – and she’s determined to make memories with her newer, cooler burnout friends. Sam is just trying to survive his first year with as few dodge balls to the stomach as possible, and he braves the halls with his geek cohort.

Oh, and the cast list is stacked. It would become stacked anyway. As the actors grew in star power, the pre-fame names of James Franco, Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, Busy Philipps, Linda Cardellini turned household ones.

It was also famously cancelled before all eighteen episodes were put on air. But, why?

II. The History of Freaks and Geeks

The show shared something critical in common with its characters: things could never just be easy.

When you dive into the production’s history, you find the reasons for its cancellation myriad. It was slotted for Saturday nights, when its core audience was probably trying to be anywhere but home, leading to low ratings. Those ratings weren’t helped by its high-rated competition and erratic scheduling changes (yes, that means you couldn’t expect this show to come out at the same day, at the same time every week).

And, importantly, NBC and the Freaks and Geeks creators were constantly at odds. with the former feeling the show was too bleak and didn’t have “enough wins” for the characters. At one point, they even refused to air an episode, “Kim Kelly Is My Friend,” for fears that it was too realistic in its depiction of troubled home life.

III. What Freaks and Geeks Got Right

This is where I’m going to show my cards: My favourite aspect of Freaks and Geeks is its refusal to depict the aspirational. Media has a long-standing obsession with depicting our teen years. As a high schooler, my watchlist was filled to the brim of twenty-somethings playing ten-somethings living lives much cooler than mine. With no cash for redecorating, I watched the likes of Gossip Girl, Glee, and The Vampire Diaries in the middle school horror of lime green and zebra print that was my bedroom.

Instead, and especially now, I watched Freaks and Geeks and saw the reality of suburban American teendom. There are many days you feel like you lose, an increasing frustration with the ways you can’t control your life, and the burgeoning knowledge that your relationships with yourself and others are ever-changing.

In its time, higher-ups viewed this show as one for teenagers and, as such, they believed only the most appealing high school stories should follow. The failure to see Freaks and Geeks as the classic it would become is a failure to see teenagers as wanting their lives reflected to them — and the universality that truth will hold as teenagers grow up. I have no connection to the truths of 1980s America, my teenage years coincided with the rise of social media and my peers sneaking a vape in class, but Freaks and Geeks reflects it all at its core.

IV. A Quick Lesson from the Production Team

While my admiration comes from the way this story is told, many lessons can be gleaned from Freaks and Geeks through its storied production history. Since rewatching the show, I’ve found myself collecting anecdotes about its past.

1. It’s in Paul Feig and Judd Apatow’s descriptions of shifting characters to reflect their actors that you’re is reminded of the importance of creative flexibility.

2. After its cancellation, Judd Apatow committed himself to rehiring team members for future projects, and the power of bringing your collaborators with you is solidified.

3. Most of all, you remember the necessity to fight for the perspective embedded in your art. It’s what made Freaks and Geeks stand the test of time.

V. Conclusion

As I add to the internet’s articles on the undeniable beauty of Freaks and Geeks, and the potential dollar signs people see in bringing it back to life, there’s is no part of me that wants a Freaks and Geeks reboot. Instead, I hope an industry can reflect on the stories it denies because of presumed profitability and ask the creatives of today to stick by the truths you want to bring to life.

And, while this show got so much right, production wasn’t perfect. With an entirely white main cast, one of the shows major flaws is a lack of diversity. The depiction of life in the suburbs as quietly brutal would be strengthened by examining the intersections of suburban life with the all too common ostracization of those deemed “other.” And, although crediting the production for being largely positive, Busy Philipps referenced a specific experience on the set of Freaks and Geeks, namely being pushed by co-star James Franco, as a moment she began to understand the nature of Hollywood.

If you’re worried you’d be in for just another teen show by watching this — don’t be. The piece of magic that happens when a show understands the reality of growing up is you’ll relate to it because, let’s be honest, how many of us feel like we’re truly “all grown up?” In my twenties, mentors in my thirties have showered me with “there’s still time to figure it out!” Those in their forties tell me how fun my thirties will be. Everyone’s got days where they pout at their latest assignments. And, sometimes, what I really need is my grandma to make me a cup of tea and tell me everything’s alright.

If you’re reading this, it’s not too late to watch Freaks and Geeks. There might be a pop quiz next week. It should help you prepare.

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About the Author

Diana Montalvo is a creative and historian. With a background in Media and Cultural Studies, her fascination for analysing the arts led to costume studies internships at The Costume Institute and Cotsen Textile Traces Study Center and dramaturgy. She’s currently the Social Media and Content Executive for the Edinburgh TV Festival. She writes the Culture Digest for Reflections, and has recently started her own publication, The Art House, to continue her analyses.

We can’t seem to take a stroll without seeing twinkling lights or the offerings in shop windows, so it’s no surprise even our Culture Digest is being written in festive spirits. Here are our December recommendations — right as rein(deer).

Fireside Favourites

The holiday season seems to inspire a comfort watch, but whether it’s because of the mood or the weather is anyone’s guess. Don’t have one yet? Some of our favourite holiday-specific watches are A Nightmare Before Christmas, The Muppet Christmas Carol and… The BBC3 Christmas Rock Opera: AD/BC.

However, plenty of our favourites feature the season more incidentally. If you don’t mind those who say Die Hard is a Christmas movie, perhaps Little Women, Gremlins, or The Holdovers could make your list. With no Thanksgiving celebrations in the UK, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is easily enjoyed a month later. And, Black Doves, a recently released British spy thriller starring Kiera Knightley, makes for an exciting watch.

Or, you can always make time for a holiday television special. Community, Dan Harmon’s sitcom set at a community college, is hilarious and inventive in “Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas” and “Regional Holiday Music.” The West Wing provides political poignancy with “Noël” and “In Excelsis Deo.” Plus, there’s nothing like a Dr. Who special: “The Christmas Invasion,” “The Snowmen,” and “A Christmas Carol.”

The Media List

There’s plenty of media to be enjoyed from December and the year soon to be in review. Beautifully shot and tightly written, Conclave recently hit theatres. It stars Ralph Fiennes as Cardinal Thomas Lawrence, organising the election of the next pope. Grand Theft Hamlet is a new documentary following out-of-work actors as they attempt to shoot an entire production of Hamlet in the world of Grand Theft Auto. Say Nothing is the series adaptation of the 2018 book by Patrick Radden Keefe, detailing four generations in Northern Ireland during The Troubles.

If you want to bring an Italian summer to your winter, La Chimera is concerns itself with its title: an impossible dream. The story follows a British looter with a mystical gift for finding tombs with his grave-robbing friends in Tuscany — while he tries to move on from the woman he lost.

And, from April of this year, The Lonely Island & Seth Meyer Podcast have been sharing the stories behind the making of SNL’s Digital Shorts and discussing their lasting impact today.

Before You Go

Some holiday conversations are best enjoyed on the go. 99% Invisible is a podcast all about the design of our daily lives. This episode covers the three Santas of Slovenia.

Hit Parade’s “The Christmas is All Around Edition” discusses the contest around British Christmas No. 1.

“A Christmas Carol” from The Rest is History follows the hosts as they traverse London and dissect the history of Charles Dickens’ text.

What do you love to watch, read, listen to and enjoy around the holiday season? That’s all from us this year — catch you in 2025!

The term access and inclusion has been around for a long time in all working industries, including HETV. But it wasn’t until Jack Thorne’s moving and powerful MacTaggart Lecture at Edinburgh TV Festival in August 2021 that the TV industry started to listen.

TV has historically lacked when it comes to truly authentic D/deaf, Disabled and/or Neurodivergent (DDN) individuals and stories, but in the past few years we’ve started to see a shift away from inspiration porn and inaccurate portrayals to more nuanced and fair on-screen representation. Incredible stories have come to life, from the Oscar winning short film An Irish Goodbye; to films like A Quiet Place, and even incidental casting in hit shows like Sex Education and Bridgerton. Nighttime entertainment shows have delivered too, with outstanding celebrity dancers on Strictly Come Dancing, as well as contestants on Love Island and I’m A Celebrity. Ruth Madely alone has featured in episodes of Doctor Who, Years and Years, The Long Shadow and Then Barbara Met Allen.

With all these vital pieces of media and talent visible on screen, why are we still lacking in representation off screen? — with only 5-10% of workers in the UK Television industry identifying as DDN. This shocking statistic combined with industry horror stories about access has paved the way for the role of Access Coordinators in our industry.

The role of the Access Coordinator is to promote more inclusive practices and work with DDN individuals to ensure access requirements are being met in a fair and empowering way. This could be the lead cast member or an accountant in the back office somewhere. It doesn’t matter because this role was designed to help anyone who needs reasonable adjustments to thrive in their work lives.

Since 2021 two cohorts have gone through ScreenSkills training and we are starting to see the role become truly embedded within film and HETV production.

As Access Coordinators, we are on the front lines of a huge cultural shift. It's incredibly exciting to be standing among my fellow ACs to create tangible, equitable change in the industry and challenge the barriers that leave so many unable to participate equally in it.

Together, we are shaping a brand new, inclusive, and accessible way of working that will change our perception of working in TV & Film for generations to come.

- Ant Lightfoot, Access Coordinator

In an ideal world there would be no such thing as funding restrictions, time constraints, or long working hours — but we’re in this industry because we love what we do. Yet, it continues to shut many talented individuals out because it’s unable to meet basic access requirements, like when there are no accessible honeywagons available, or not allowing for more flexible working styles.

As Access Coordinators, we’re here to help you identify access requirements and find ways to make them achievable for all productions. It’s going to take time for DDN individuals to trust the industry enough to come forward with access requirements and request what they truly need, so we’re also here to help start that conversation by up-skilling our crews and showing them how to create more inclusive work environments. Adjustments can often be small and free. Perhaps it’s a note in your email signature telling people to reply at their own pace. Or maybe when you post a job you’ve written a line encouraging DDN people to apply.

The role is still in its infancy but the call to action has been heard loud and clear. I asked my fellow Access Coordinators what they hope to see change for the role in 3 years’ time, here’s what they had to say.

I hope to see it everywhere. I hope it's been normalised as a role in the way that Intimacy Coordinators now are, and for it to be as well respected, too. I hope people realise our importance and see our value.

- Leah Rachel, Access Coordinator

I hope to see the role implemented on every production as standard, much like other departments. With disability and accessibility training for all!

- Abbie Hills, Access Coordinator

That [access is] a line on every budget and embedded into production properly, not just an afterthought or an ad hoc arrangement. And that we continue to normalise accessibility — and the fact that it benefits everyone — so that people aren't worried about disclosing what makes them who they are.

- Sally Lisk-Lewis, Access Coordinator

The normalisation of this role is groundbreaking, and I believe will continue to have profound ripple effects throughout the world.

- Ella Glendining, Access Coordinator

The power of this role and its potential cannot be overstated. The industry has failed Disabled people for too long and now is the time for action. Whether that’s hiring an Access Coordinator or starting smaller, like looking at your daily practices and asking how you could make your operation more inclusive to all.

Access Coordinators can be found all over the UK. You can find them through The Talent Manager, ScreenSkills, TripleC/DANC, Casarotto Ramsey and Associates, Sara Putt Associates and VisABLE People. We’re here and ready to help you on your journey through access no matter how big or small your production may be.

Disabled voices deserve to be heard, and you deserve to hear them.

I’d like to leave you with one final thought that I hope you take away. Disabled isn’t a dirty word or something to be feared. Embrace the word and all it means because being disabled isn’t a definition, it’s an adjective and only one part of who the individual is.

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About the Author

Beth is a white disabled woman and is the first and only in-house Access Coordinator in the UK working in the television industry. She is currently working across all ITV Studios drama labels, covering up to 7 productions at a time. Before joining ITV Studios, Beth was a freelance Access Coordinator working across scripted, unscripted and live events.

As we prepare to turn our calendars to December, here’s everything we’ve been enjoying this November. There’s something for everyone — whether you prefer to brave the cold or enjoy time indoors under many, many blankets.

What to Watch?

The little screen has brought us much to enjoy this November. Industry (HBO/Sky), The Diplomat (Netflix), and Arcane (Netflix) are back for their newest seasons. And, Industry gets praise as being “the best television of 2024.” Why not see if you agree?

My Brilliant Friend (HBO/Sky) has reached its fourth and final season. The coming-of-age drama is based on the Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante, which follow the lifelong friendship and conflicts of two girls from childhood to adulthood. You should also absolutely read the books if you get the chance.

After The Party (Channel 4) is a new, complex New Zealand drama that follows the life of a high school teacher in the aftermath of accusing her husband of a sex crime against her teen daughter’s friend — but no one believes her. The performances are outstanding, and it deserves all the critical acclaim coming its way.

A (Wholesome) Internet Break

Sometimes, you just need to something to make you smile. It’s hard not to watching this 5-year-old contestant drum it out for an adoring crowd.

Out & About

If you haven’t seen Wicked yet, or held space for the lyrics of Defying Gravity, it’s an incredible experience in cinemas. Plus, there’s still time to catch Sean Baker’s most recent film Anora, or enjoy one of his past films, The Florida Project, Red Rocket, and Tangerine at home.

On either side of the Thames, the Tate has exhibitions that have made our recommended list. At the Tate Modern, you can catch Electric Dreams, an exhibition about art and technology before the internet age. The Tate Britain is exploring a critical decade of photography in the UK in The 80s: Photographing Britain.

Top of the Pods

The Magnus Archives released a sequel podcast The Magnus Protocol earlier this year. This horror podcast is structed as a series of statements for internal research at the fictional Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and weird.

If you love to hear people chat the latest in pop culture, listen to The Ringer's Andy Greenwald and Chris Ryan break down the latest TV, movies, and music on The Watch. They’ve been covering Industry throughout their recent episodes.

SNL’s Bowen Yang, who brought his comedy to the role of Pfannee in Wicked, is one of our favourite funny people. Check out his podcast Las Culturistas with Matt Rogers.

Thanks for reading what we’re recommending this November! A holiday edition is coming your way in December. For now, we’ll leave you with what we’ve all been feeling…

@dnlishworldOffically that season 😭❄️#dnlish #dnlishworld

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I live in the United States, where more than two in five adults qualify as obese, while at the other end of the scale, one in five children experiences food insecurity. It’s a grotesque juxtaposition in one of the wealthiest nations on the planet – now that has the makings of a TV show! 

But honestly, finding food programming that is truly relevant to our times has been hard to come by – until I discovered Lunch ON! on NHK.

This long-running programme is produced in Japan for a Japanese audience, but it is provided by the international service of Japan’s public broadcast organisation, NHK World-Japan. Made available in 17 different languages, the programme can be viewed online as well as in TV markets across the globe. 

I’m able to watch an English-language translation of the show on my local public TV station. Voiceover work is provided by a cast of native English speakers, some of whom speak in British received pronunciation, while others deliver their parts in a General American accent. 

Lunch ON! has been a revelation – a far cry from snarky star chefs, anxious-to-please acolytes, and designer kitchens. Instead, this show provides a veritable bento box, if you will, of emotional, sociological and gastronomic nourishment. While the Lunch ON! premise centres on food, it is seasoned with cultural traditions and workplace visits. It takes viewers throughout Japan to share stories about the lives – and lunches – of the working class. 

The show follows a simple blueprint: for every episode, a TV crew tags along with a selected worker or team of workers. Before the programme ever arrives at the central question – what’s for lunch? –  viewers learn about who these workers are and what their work entails, thanks to the hand-held POV camera work of the videographer and the inquiries of an off-camera interviewer.

This gives viewers a behind-the-scenes peek at careers they might never have known about otherwise. Auto body workers retrofit luxury cars, for example, and show how they convert them into hearses. (These are high-demand items, given Japan’s ageing population.) The staff at a speciality factory demonstrate how they recycle used egg cartons and remould the material to make daruma dolls. Other recent episodes have featured workers at a golf club factory, drummers in a taiko group, a whetstone artisan, and the captain, crew, and cooking staff aboard a dredging ship. 

As co-workers interact with one another in front of the camera, viewers become more attuned to cultural mannerisms and values. And when lunchtime rolls around, the camera ventures into the kitchen where the offscreen interviewer peppers the cooks with questions as they chop, stir and fry. Rice and noodles are common staples. Miso is a prevalent condiment. Vegetables, nuts and greens often are freshly harvested, even foraged. 

At larger companies, employees can troop into the cafeteria at lunchtime and select their choice of dishes. But at smaller places of business, workers often bring in artfully-packed bento boxes from home, or pick up a pre-packaged bento from a local grocery. Especially in the more intimate settings at smaller companies, hungry workers often preface the beginning of their meal together with a clap of the hands or by pressing their palms together and uttering a quick “itadakimasu.” A traditional acknowledgement of appreciation for the food, which gets a more prosaic translation in English: “Let’s eat!” Then they pounce upon their lunch in earnest, wielding chopsticks and slurping noodles – only to be interrupted by the intrepid interviewer, who wants to know how they like their meal. 

Lunch ON!’s typical run time is about 23 minutes. Episodes contain two feature stories of about 10 minutes each, interspersed with much briefer segments like “Everybody’s Lunch ON!” where viewers send in photos of their own lunches. Sometimes a brief tribute segment called “The Lunch He (or She) Loved So Dearly” honours a cultural icon who has recently died – by remembering their favourite lunch.

Just as Lunch ON! doesn’t shirk from grief, it also acknowledges issues in Japanese society. There’s tension regarding gender-associated roles, for example. An expectation still exists that wives will prepare the bento boxes, but as one segment featuring a retiring paramedic reveals, his wife is resentful about having to rise at 4:30 every morning. On her husband’s final day of work, she is up first, putting together his customary meal of croquettes, pickled greens and rice.

“Retirement from bento-making, too,” she mutters. “And I wish I could retire from being a wife.”

Other sensitive topics come up in workplace conversations. There’s the ever-present spectre of a low birth rate and an ageing Japan. Legacy farms and businesses are in danger of dying out or being abandoned. Venerable artisans have no one to mentor. Climate change gets mentioned. So do natural disasters.

After a 7.8 earthquake struck Noto Peninsula in western Japan at the beginning of 2024, Lunch ON! travelled back to that area to check on a salt manufacturer whose business had been featured on the show 12 years earlier. Mr Yamagishi, now quite elderly, pointed out that since the quake, the shoreline has been pushed out by 100 meters, making it more difficult to collect the saltwater he needs for his salt-making process. 

Nonetheless, he is determined to revive his business, even though only a few of his employees have been able to return to help him. Mr. Yamagishi works very hard, and when his lunch break comes, he relishes the bento prepared by – yes, his wife. 

“As long as I can enjoy food, that means I’m alive!” he says. “I can still keep going. I’m truly happy.” 

Salt of the earth relevance – that’s what we need more of from television’s food programming.

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About The Author

Barbara Lloyd McMichael writes on cultural issues from the Pacific Northwest. She has traveled extensively in Japan and written on many aspects of Japanese culture before – tea ceremonies, language schools, gardens, and more. Barbara is a longtime freelance writer, with pieces published in the Los Angeles Times, Fresh Cup, Princeton Alumni Weekly, The Connector, The Seattle Times, Look Japan, Christian Science Monitor, Hollywood Reporter and many regional newspapers in the western United States. Earlier in her career, she worked as a story editor for EMI Films and a story analyst for CBS Television. She lives outside of Seattle in the US.

Every autumn is our first autumn. In mere weeks, brilliant summer days are replaced with an alien season, replete with fiery trees and looming shadows. There’s something unexpected about autumn each time September greets the northern hemisphere —it harkens to the first times we experienced our world as foreign. Its changes are drastic, ungoverned, and wondrous, an ideal stage for mysteries of all stripes, and, in ten short episodes, Over the Garden Wall has cemented itself as a fixture of the beguiling season. Annual rewatches have become as autumnal as pumpkin spice and confronting the realities of climate change. Gen Z’s reverence for the limited series is due, in no small part, to its themes and use of the fall stage; it is, at once, nostalgic and unsettling.

Over the Garden Wall is instantly identifiable as early Americana. The opening treats viewers to a medley of characters before settling on protagonists Wirt and Greg. Hand-painted, canvas backgrounds and an assortment of folks sporting 19th-century colonial garb give the impression of stepping into a painting —it’s an enchanting invitation into the Unknown. Yet, even in its opening moments, McHale is not content merely to introduce the setting and establish future characters. Greens and yellows dominate the pallet of the show, clear signs of autumn, but the lush backgrounds shift to bleak greys and blacks, indicative of a forest unwelcoming of its inhabitants.

Unlike the detailed background work, Wirt and Greg are rendered in simple shapes and primary colours, a duo at odds with the scene in which they’ve been dropped. Before a single word of dialogue, Over the Garden Wall conveys that, amid its beauty, something is amiss. Even the colonial American visual signifiers are contextually jarring. A cart and wagon, drawn by a pair of turkeys and driven by a black cat, a maid in Puritan attire organising a catacomb of skulls, and a sleepy New England harvest festival populated by skeletons dressed in pumpkins. The symbols and fixtures of early American life are attached to odd or unnatural characters and images. This juxtaposition is at the core of Over the Garden Wall’s ethos. It curates a warm feeling of semi-familiarity while lingering on the uncanny. Viewers are invited to take part in its warm autumn allure amidst a cavalcade of peculiar creatures and circumstances. Centralising its narrative around these aesthetic constraints is critical to its conceit; Over the Garden Wall is a call to confront a strange world with childlike optimism and mature wariness.

Structurally, the show is an anthology of sorts. Each episode, save for the final two, is a vignette from Wirt, Greg, and Beatrice’s journey through the Unknown as they encounter the colourful cast of the woods’ inhabitants and dangers. The travellers are passersby in the stories of the Unknown’s denizens, and the odd vignettes in which they find themselves are, largely, the result of indifference to our protagonists. Most characters are concerned chiefly with their own goals and schemes. There’s a great sense that all the characters possess lives and prerogatives that continue well after our travellers leave their company. Such is the skill of an anthology, a continuous reminder that we don’t belong, we’re mere guests in another’s tale. 

The anthological nature of Over the Garden Wall doesn’t preclude overarching intrigue or consistent antagonists. Across the narrative, the mysterious “Beast” looms, horned and silhouetted by the shadows of the Unknown, in constant pursuit of young pilgrims who wander into his woods. Often accompanied by the Woodsman, an unwilling accomplice, he seeks to claim the souls of Wirt and Greg and assimilate them into his forest. The Unknown is not merely a fantastical world packed with eccentric characters, there’s malevolence lurking around each corner.

So what, exactly, is happening in this appealing, eerie descent? Outside of allegorizing Dante Alighieri’s longer (and considerably more tedious) allegory, Over the Garden Wall is concerned, primarily with an exploration of “maturity”. Most plainly, Wirt and Greg’s encounters showcase the necessary parity of youthful openmindedness and mature concern. The half-siblings could not be more different. Greg is joyful, curious, creative, silly, intuitive, and naive much in the way we might expect of a young boy. Wirt is angst incarnate. He’s fearful of wrong decisions, his crush, and social discomfort. In short, a teenager. These two butt heads across the limited series as Wirt views Greg as a burden, he is regretfully obliged to keep safe. Yet, often, Greg’s innocent sense of misadventure sets the pair down the right path. His openness and resilience defy a call to submit to this new, impossible world. Wirt isn’t without his merits, his analytical mind and concern for danger are responsible for keeping the pair alive beyond sheer luck.

As the brothers traverse the perils of the Unknown it becomes increasingly apparent that the beast’s pursuit is philosophical in nature. It can’t physically harm them, instead opting to influence unfortunate lost souls to wander eternally in his forest. To keep his lantern lit. To lure others into the despair of an Edelwood transformation. Losing heart on the journey is the characteristic shared by the Beast’s prey and, ergo, it is the only way to “fail” at growing up. Becoming despondent and submitting oneself eternally to directionlessness, amid a strange indifferent world, is the fate that Over the Garden Wall most abhors. No matter how lost and confusing the world seems, we must persist.  

The charming aesthetic direction, characters whose names are their professions, and a witch interested in obtaining child servants all land Over the Garden Wall squarely in the camp of modern-day fable. It’s a Grimm’s fairytale for people for whom the prospect of home ownership is equally fanciful. It’s a yarn about growing up in a world full of things you don’t understand, people who are magical and creepy, and an overwhelming sense that giving up on trying to make it out the other end would be easier. It’s a story that could only ever be animated.

Animation’s capacity for abstract storytelling is immense and underexplored. The animator’s power lies in abstraction. It is by nature, not “realistic”. This lack of proximity to reality enables animators to tell stories whose intimacy is reliant on the truth contained in exaggeration. Bojack Horseman’s depiction of depression through rough scribbling linework will always feel more honest than an actor portraying the mental illness. Hayao Miyazaki’s breathtaking frames of the natural world are almost too beautiful, arguing a truth beyond scenic nature photography about the necessity of its preservation. More to the point, Over the Garden Wall’s unnatural yet familiar tone can only be achieved through a medium that feels like reading a storybook. To say nothing of its ability to portray circumstances entirely untenable through modern visual effects, animation’s capacity for telling intensely interior stories is paramount. Gen Z gets that.

Gen Z’s attraction to the story is fairly predictable. As a generation, they’re far more receptive to the merits of animation than those prior, and their affinity for a past they’ve not experienced is a well-documented phenomenon. Perhaps Over the Garden Wall’s setting represents an extreme version of this imagined nostalgia. What’s more likely, though, is this story resonates with Gen Z in a way other programs don’t. Owing to the ubiquity of the internet from adolescence, Zoomers were aware of far more than previous generations. The inexplicable void of adulthood was made far more confounding, the internet (particularly, the internet of the aughts and early 2010s) was a seemingly lawless cacophony of the world’s knowledge —inscrutable and miserable. Growing up with this awareness is paralyzing, and while many stories champion perseverance through adversity, few take the intimate and introspective tone of Over the Garden Wall. Fewer still, acknowledge the strange mixture of wonder and fear with which teenagers approach the adult world, yet the show takes it in stride.

Beyond its visual intrigue and perplexing setting, Over the Garden Wall reminds viewers that it’s okay to be fearful and confused. There’s nothing wrong with approaching the strangeness of adulthood with childishness and caution. The show’s themes are fundamentally hopeful, and, in a world no less erratic, there’s a comfort in revisiting a program that helped many navigate that peculiarity. We should all make time to beware the unknown, fear the beast, and make it through the woods. Before you know it, it’ll be Winter.

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About the Author

Jaedon Abbott is a journalist from New York City based in London. He studied at New York University, and writes media analysis essays and reviews at Fox in the Fields. With a degree in political science and background in philosophy and competitive debate, he values an analytical approach to reviews, analysing modern pieces of media through their arguments and connections with broader trends and other art.

An autumnal chill has set in, and this month’s Culture Digest brings everything we’ve been enjoying this October. We’ve done the classic Stacey Solomon, Sort Your Life Out— making room for the autumn sweaters and coats — and are ready to settle in with the season.

Chills and Charms

Happy Halloween! Everyone has seasonal favourites, so we’ve asked around the office. One Cut of the Dead is a fresh take on a classic genre. It’s an independent zombie-comedy with a twist you’ll never see coming, so we’ll just give the basics: what happens when your zombie movie gets crashed by real zombies?

The Mist is a science fiction horror film directed by Frank Darabont. With Lovecraftian creatures lurking, the movie explores how ordinary people react to fear and paranoia. What We Do in the Shadows (in series or film format) is a hilarious mockumentary about vampire roommates in New York.

Not feeling a creature feature? Tim Burton brings the classics. Frankenweenie and The Nightmare Before Christmas are stop-motion masterpieces. There’s still time to watch Beetlejuice, and then catch Beetlejuice Beetlejuice in theatres. And, if you’ve watched all the Tim Burton you can, read his gothic tales in The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy.

Plus, Abney Park Cemetery and Highgate Cemetery have insightful tours about their history, or just enjoy the walk in a crisp drizzle.

Cultural Conversations

We’re people who love art. Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma by Claire Dederer grapples with the thorny question of what we should do with, and how we should feel about, great art by bad people. It’s part memoir, part cultural criticism that uses Roman Polanski and Woody Allen as its jumping off point.

As its own art form, television can often treat itself as film’s embarrassing little brother — or at least that’s what this YouTube essayist argues. In two video essays, “Short Seasons Are Killing TV,” and “HD TVs Ruined Sitcoms,” pop culture creator captain midnight explores the strengths of two historical aspects of television we’ve been ditching: long-running seasons and past programmes’ original resolutions and ratios.

Here’s a quick run down of some television we’ve been enjoying: Daddy Issues, Alma’s Not Normal, and Bad Monkey.

London’s Live Theatre

There’s only a week left to catch White Rabbit, Red Rabbit, currently showing at sohoplace theatre. This experimental theatre piece invites a new actor to join an adventure with the audience each night. No rehearsals. No director. Just a script waiting in a sealed envelope.

Old stories become new as Sophocles' Athenian tragedies are transformed in London. Oedipus at the Wyndham Theatre brings us a modern reimagining of Oedipus Rex, and The Other Place at the National Theatre bills itself as “after Antigone.” If you prefer to enjoy a reimagining of Greek mythology on your couch instead, Kaos was recommended by a team member particularly fond of its casting.

Before You Go

Here’s a podcast for your commute. Normal Gossip is back for its seventh season bringing you funny stories about strangers you’ll never know and never meet.

That’s all for October! So, what’s your favourite scary movie (we say doing our best Ghostface impression)?

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The success of the HETV sector in Scotland comes as no surprise, given that television, more than cinema, has been the driving force of the Scottish screen sector since the emergence of the independent production model through the 1980s and 1990s. Scotland started to find its way into the global HETV production market in 2013, when the Sony Pictures and STARZ series Outlander set up base in Wardpark Studios, a converted filming facility in Cumbernauld, near Glasgow. As well as benefiting from the UK government’s HETV tax relief scheme, introduced in that same year, the project received additional funding and infrastructure investment from the Scottish Government, as part of a strategy aimed at attracting high-budget foreign productions to Scotland. The global success of Outlander, now in its seventh season, paved the way for many other incoming HETV productions over the decade since 2013, both series and streaming movies.

In the three years preceding the pandemic, screen production activity in Scotland hit record highs. BFI reports show that annual average production spend in Scotland 2017-19reached around £160 million, with HETV productions contributing more than half of this amount. While the same trend was reflected across the UK, growth in production spend in many English regions, for instance, was led by cinematic production.1

Lockdown restrictions, however, suspended and delayed productions throughout 2020. Then, in 2021 and early 2022, there was an unprecedented surge in filming activity in Scotland, especially from HETV projects backed by American networks and global streaming platforms, including series Anansi Boys and Good Omens 2 (both Amazon Studios/ Prime), streaming movies Tetris (Marv Studios/Apple TV+) and The Princess Switch 3 (MPCA/Netflix), and Outlander Season 6. However, many such 2021-22 projects were still catching up on previous filming disruptions, making future sectoral growth difficult to forecast.

Yet, after such backlogs were cleared by mid-2022, further inward investment-driven projects kept arriving in Scotland, with no signs of the arrival rate slowing down. The 2022-23 period has seen, for example: production of the series One Day (Drama Republic/Netflix), The Chemistry of Death (Cuba Pictures/Paramount+) and The Buccaneers (The Forge/Apple TV+); release and recommissioning of The Rig (Wild Mercury/Amazon Prime), the first Amazon Original series entirely shot in Scotland (FirstStage Studios, Edinburgh); and confirmation of an upcoming reboot of Ian Rankin's Rebus (Eleventh Hour Films) for the Swedish-based platform Viaplay, its first UK original series. In addition, there have been various announcements regarding Outlander, including: photography for Season 7, recommissioning of a final eighth season, and greenlighting of a prequel series, Outlander: Blood Of My Blood, by STARZ.

As for domestic HETV projects, 2022-23 was marked by the production of several Scottish-based crime series, both new and recommissioned, including: Six Four (House Productions/ITVX), Granite Harbour (LA Productions/BBC), Payback (HTM Television/ITV), Shetland Season 8 (Silverprint/BBC), and the second seasons of Annika (Black Camel/Alibi Channel), Crime (Buccaneer Media/ITVX) and Screw (STV Studios/Channel 4). Most of these productions have already appeared on streaming services worldwide, such as PBS Masterpiece, Amazon Prime, Netflix and Apple TV, as well as various national broadcasters’ schedules.

Thus, the Scottish screen sector’s economic value has arguably never been greater. National screen agency Screen Scotland estimates that film and TV production currently contributes more than £500 million per year to Scotland’s economy, and predicts that this figure may double by 2030.2 The agency’s promotion strategy to sell Scotland abroad is rooted in the availability of unique locations, skilled crews and world-class facilities. To support projected growth, Screen Scotland has also been offering funding to encourage HETV productions to set up base in the country, including one scheme specifically for television content and another for large-scale projects. Tetris, for example, is said to have accessed £500,000 to film with local crew in various Scottish locations, including Prestwick Airport, which was transformed into a 1980s Soviet air base for the production.3

Another recent Scottish response to growing production demand involved the September 2022 opening of a new large-scale television studio, BBC Studioworks, at Glasgow’s Kelvin Hall. Jointly funded by Glasgow City Council and the Scottish Government at a cost of £11.9 million, the multi-camera facility can accommodate a range of television genres and has already served as the set of prison drama Screw.4 BBC Studioworks is Scotland’s fifth large-scale permanent filming facility and the fourth such built in the Central Belt in recent years, following Pyramids Studios (Bathgate, 2017), FirstStage Studios (Edinburgh, 2020) and Pioneer Film Studios (Stepps, early 2022), in addition to Outlander’s previously established Wardpark Film and Television Studios (Cumbernauld, 2013).

Scotland’s newfound success in the HETV sector has also prompted further action regarding training and upskilling the local freelance workforce. The recent large influx of HETV production coincided with other major developments in the local screen sector, which combined have led to an increased demand for Scottish-based crews. These include the launch of a dedicated BBC channel for Scotland and the creation of a new Channel 4 creative hub in Glasgow (both 2019), along with the growing obligation on UK-wide broadcasters to place more out-of-London commissions.

As a consequence, labour and skills shortages have become evident across many production areas in Scotland in recent years. National skills agency Skills Development Scotland (SDS) estimates a current local sectoral demand for 500 to 760 new freelancers in addition to the approximately 3,400 existing freelance personnel.5 SDS identifies skills gaps particularly in craft areas, such as camera operation, grip, and editing, as well as in various art department roles, direction, and management positions across production departments. The shortage is such that many Scottish-based producers resort to recruiting staff from elsewhere. In early 2023, for example, online crewing platform The Talent Manager promoted a 'speed meet' networking event in London with recruiters from around a dozen Scottish indies hoping to lure experienced workers in certain production areas to relocate to Scotland.

There have been some initiatives for workforce upskilling and career progression training in Scotland in recent years through UK-wide agencies like ScreenSkills (the UK skills body for the screen sector), BECTU (UK’s media and entertainment trade union), and the Glasgow hub of the National Film and Television School (in operation since 2018). However, as pointed out by SDS, opportunities at these levels remain limited and are often difficult to access. In terms of recent entry-level training initiatives, ongoing schemes funded by Screen Scotland and Scottish-based productions, include the now-well-established Screen NETS programme, providing on-the-job training to 10 new entrants every year across technical and craft areas. The Outlander Training Programme is another successful initiative, which throughout the series’ seven seasons has offered training in numerous production, craft and technical roles for around 170 newcomers, the latest cohort of 33 trainees completing the programme in early 2023.67 In addition, many recent Screen Scotland-part-financed HETV productions have employed Scottish-based trainees as part of their public funding agreement. Screw, for instance, provided placements for a group of ex-offenders, aimed at furthering diversity in the local screen sector.

There is a shared understanding across the Scottish screen sector that continued levels of investment in both infrastructure and workforce training and development are fundamental to meet future national and international production demand and achieve long-term sectoral growth. Since HETV productions tend to require large crews, very specific skillsets, extensive facilities and forefront technology, the task of fulfilling their needs becomes ever more challenging. As the volume of Scottish-based HETV projects increases further, it remains to be seen how Scotland will find new ways to navigate the opportunities and challenges associated with maintenance of its current status as a HETV production hub and potential future evolution into a global powerhouse in this area.

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About the Author

Nelson Correia is a PhD researcher investigating the development of the freelance film and television workforce in Scotland over the last half-century. His project is a collaboration between Edinburgh Napier University, the University of Edinburgh, and the National Library of Scotland Moving Image Archive, with a scholarship from the Scottish Graduate School for Arts and Humanities (SGSAH). He previously worked in broadcast journalism and factual television production.