The British film industry is basking in the glow of another box office hit. Enola Holmes, starring Millie Bobby Brown and Louis Partridge, has drawn crowds to cinemas across the nation. The film’s success is a rare bright spot in an industry still reeling from strikes and streaming upheaval. But as the cast walks red carpets, the workers who built the sets and manned the cameras are asking: where is our share?
London’s Leicester Square was buzzing last night. Brown and Partridge smiled for the cameras, celebrating a film that has dominated the UK box office for two weeks running. The sequel has grossed over £40 million domestically, a figure that executives at Warner Bros. and Legendary Entertainment will cheer. For the British Film Institute, it is a validation of domestic production. For the government, it is proof that post-Brexit film tax credits are working.
Yet take a short walk to Soho, and you will hear a different story. In the pubs and cafes where film crews gather, the mood is sour. The Bectu union reports that 78% of below-the-line workers in film and TV are still earning below the London Living Wage. Many are freelancers who went months without work during the strikes last year. Now, with production ramping up, they face long hours and no guarantee of overtime pay.
“It’s all very well for the stars to talk about a golden age,” says Emma Thompson, a set dresser who worked on Enola Holmes’ predecessor. “But I’m still paying off debts from when work dried up. The industry treats us like we’re disposable.”
The irony is not lost on those who track the numbers. The UK film industry contributed £6.1 billion to the economy in 2023, a record high. Yet wage growth for crew has lagged behind inflation for four consecutive years. The cost of living is biting hardest in London and the South East, where most studio work is based. Transport costs, housing rents, and energy bills have climbed. Meanwhile, the pay packets for grips, sound engineers, and costume assistants have barely budged.
There have been attempts to address the imbalance. The BFI’s Diversity Standards now require productions to report on pay gaps. But critics say these are toothless. No studio has faced sanctions for low pay. And the rise of streaming giants like Netflix, which produced Enola Holmes, has only worsened the divide. Streamers often hire on short-term contracts, avoiding the long-term commitments that traditional studios offered.
“We are seeing a two-tier system,” says Dr. Ayisha Osman, a labour economist at the University of Manchester. “A small elite at the top rakes in millions, while the vast army of skilled workers below them is precariously employed. This is not sustainable. If the industry wants to keep its talent, it will have to pay them a living wage.”
Millie Bobby Brown, for her part, has been vocal about supporting crew. At the premiere, she thanked “the amazing team behind the scenes”. But words do not pay the bills. The union is pushing for a binding code of conduct that would require all productions receiving tax credits to pay at least the real living wage. They have found an ally in the Labour Party, which has pledged to review the film tax credit system if it wins the next election.
For now, the celebrations continue. Enola Holmes 2 has already been greenlit. The franchise is a juggernaut. But the question remains: will its success trickle down to the workers who made it happen? Or will it be another case of the rich getting richer while the rest scramble for scraps?
In the industrial North, where many film crew members hail from, the answer is clear. Regional inequality is stark. A film job in Manchester or Leeds pays 30% less than one in London, even with the same role. The government’s “levelling up” agenda has promised to close this gap, but progress has been glacial.
As I watch the premiere footage, I remember the words of a gaffer I interviewed last year. He had just finished working on a big-budget Netflix series. His take-home pay? £2,200 a month, before tax. In London, that barely covers rent. He was sleeping on a friend’s sofa.
“They call it a creative industry,” he said. “But the only creativity I see is in how they pay us so little.”
Enola Holmes is a triumph of British creativity. But until the workers who build the dream are paid a fair day’s wage, it will remain a hollow one.
