It’s the 27th of May 1868 in Dublin, Ireland. Sir Benjamin Lee Guinness has just died and passed on his family legacy. There is nothing quite like a fresh pint of stout, settling like the debris that rises and falls with the beginning of a new era. The eight-episode mini-series is positively thrilling whether you are a history nerd like me or not. It’s my second taste of Irish historical drama since watching “Say Nothing” (2024). I am now catching myself in the undisturbed back shelves of the campus book shop looking for clues, between the pages, of a time and place that is so often left out of national English curricula. The series that is, as it quotes in the very beginning, “inspired by true stories” does a fantastic job blending fiction and reality into an docudrama insight into how our capitalist counterparts across the Irish sea were handling the uproar of invention and enterprise.
The late Sir Benjamin Guinness’ four children inherit not just a brewery but deep responsibility. Responsibility that nobody even asked for, except for Arthur (played by Anthony Boyle), who seems to reluctantly grow into his political title. The other children who tell our tale, Edward (Louis Partridge), Anne (Emily Fairn), and Benjamin (Fionn O’Shea), represent the historical truths and turmoil that come with fulfilling the visions for a brewery. The brewery was signed to them under a “lease of life” when, on the 31st of December 1759, Sir Arthur Guinness signed a 9,000-year lease on the St. James’s Gate Brewery in Dublin. It’s not even inheritance at that point, it’s a nepo baby’s (or modern 2026 graduate’s) wildest dream. Directors Tom Shankland and Mounia Akl portray this family as constantly on the tightrope of fortune and sacrifice. We see not just the rise of enterprise, but the threat of exposure they battle with against Dublin’s high society and rural classes. The show touches on each child’s personal challenges with sexuality, substance abuse, and romantic struggles that come with being at the mercy of a fragmented social order.
Halfway through the series, my Dad and I began having our evening phone debriefs, catching on to the meaning behind all the furrowed brows and agitated exhalations of cigarette smoke in every other scene. There’s always someone who is not happy with the short end of the stick. No one, not any of the children, the love interests, the squabbling businessmen and seedy merchants over in New York, are doing what they want. It is somewhat refreshing to be reminded that even in the 19th century, people (rich or poor) are having to ‘adult’ without knowing exactly how to ‘do’ it. I am making the characters sound awfully bratty and unequipped, but the truth is, it’s realistic.
The story line just scratches the surface of the imprint that iconic harp logo left on Ireland’s history of employment and social welfare. I would be remiss to not mention the riveting play-by-play of the Fenian Brotherhood and their interventions into the Guinness enterprise (and personal lives!). The spearheads we come to know and love, Ellen and Patrick Cochrane (played by Niamh McCormack and Seamus O’Hara, respectively), invite us into the darkness behind the volatile candlelight cast over Dublin by the Guinness family. The crossover into Irish-American history is a necessary bit of context that brings together the political discourses of British intervention with an oxymoronic desire for both autonomy and national unity.
The young Guinness protégés are faced time and time again with demands to a fundamental question: “What’s in it for me?” As the series ends, it’s clear these four pillars of the family don’t always venture to answer this for the peace of mind of their many friends and foes along the way. They are really stuck asking this question to themselves, in the quiet mist of the night as their triumphs and transgressions blend beyond all comprehension. Of course, we must wait until season two (or three?) to find out the answer!
