ILLUSTRATION MATT NEEDLE
AMID A RAIN of factory ash, Cillian Murphy’s Tommy Shelby trots bareback through the cobbled streets of Birmingham’s Small Heath atop a monstrous black stallion. Over the yell of street hawkers and the belch of coal fires, the ominous chimes of Nick Cave’s Red Right Hand herald his passing. From this very first scene back in 2013, it was clear that Peaky Blinders was no run-of-the-mill period drama.
Steven Knight’s show pictured a world in which flatcaps, razor blades, whisky tumblers, pocket watches, coal yards, canal boats, and an endless cloud of billowing smoke formed the backdrop for a gang of cool-as-fuck criminals in tailored tweed. A gang whose larger-than-life characters were drawn from the backstreet fables of Knight’s Birmingham childhood. Boasting a soundtrack for the ages, Peaky Blinders turned working-class men into rock stars, layering American-inspired sizzle onto a none-more-British story.
The BBC can hardly have imagined the cultural monster they were creating when they first commissioned a series about Brummie gangsters in the 1920s. The show, which counts Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts and Michael Mann among its many vocal fans, has become the most searched Netflix series in 24 countries, and in 2019, saw 15,000 people descend on Digbeth wearing flatcaps and three-piece suits as Liam Gallagher headlined the first Peaky Blinders festival.
This year sees the arrival of the sixth and final season, picking up from a finale that left gangster-turned-MP Tommy Shelby screaming into the void, the barrel of a pistol pressed firmly to one temple. Here, Empire brings Murphy and Knight together for a look back at the series that took shape in the back alleys of South-East Birmingham, but went on to conquer the world.
“This place is under new management...” etc — Arthur Shelby (Paul Anderson) and brother Tommy (Cillian Murphy) relax at the Garrison in Season 6
Given the impact of the show now, it’s hard to believe that it wasn’t an instant hit back in 2013.