BBC Scotland closing River City is cultural vandalism

The Herald Scotland

23-04-2025

'Don't tell me,' says Lenny. 'They're inviting Nicola Sturgeon back as First Minister.' Lenny has not been well lately.
'That's no it,' says Scarlett. 'I heard one of them would be highlighting BBC Scotland's decision to end River City and close its Dumbarton studios, with the consequent loss of much-needed jobs and skills.'
'Like that's going to change anything,' says Lenny. 'Okay then, if not Nicola, what about Humza? He was always good for a laugh.' [A glass flies across the bar. Cue music and credits, cue oblivion next year when BBC Scotland finally pulls the plug.]
I don't know how many BBC executives will tune into the Scottish Parliament on Thursday to watch Labour MSP Neil Bibby advance the case for keeping River City, but they ought to. Calling time on the soap is a grubby, short-sighted act of cultural vandalism that should not be allowed to stand.
River City had been getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop for some time before the axe landed. The beginning of the end was showing blocks of episodes with long breaks between. Even the most avid fans could not keep up with when the soap would appear. Unsurprisingly, viewer numbers fell. So when the closure announcement came, the cry that went up was not as loud as it would have been a year or two earlier. Poor old River City, went the response. Well, it was on the way out anyway, and just look at the shiny new dramas that will replace it.
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No harm to the creators of Counsels, Grams and The Young Team, the three 'high-impact drama series' the BBC will be funding instead of River City, together with new runs of familiar series including Shetland and Vigil.
Who could fail to applaud the ambition of Hayley Valentine, director of BBC Scotland, whose goal is to 'grow Scotland further on the global drama map – with a slate of world-class productions that set the standard not just here but internationally too'.
Valentine, like everyone else in the industry, wants to find the next Adolescence, and why not? Brilliant writing, great acting, innovative directing, five-star reviews, invitations to Downing Street, an embarrassment of awards riches on the way, Adolescence is golden age of TV stuff. And let's not forget that it was shot in the UK with British writers, cast and production crew.
Yet the money to make Adolescence came from the American company Netflix, and only those with a subscription could see it. Then again, in today's TV world there are no borders. Talent and quality will find a way regardless of where it comes from, right?
If only it were that simple. Before there was Adolescence, there was Mr Bates vs The Post Office. Before Mr Bates there was Boys from the Black Stuff. And before that Cathy Come Home. Terrestrial TV was investing in 'high-impact drama series' before Netflix was a blinking cursor on a coder's screen. While it's great to have Netflix and other streaming services put their shoulders to the wheel, you have to wonder how long their interest will last.
I can understand why some in the industry, watching their budgets shrink year by year, would like to see a tax on streamers, but that horse bolted from the studio a long time ago. The first thing the streamers would do is raise the subscription price and blame it on terrestrial broadcasters.
You can hardly blame viewers for switching to streamers in their droves. Have you spent a Saturday night lately in the company of BBC1? Occasionally, I'll have a look at the schedule, shudder, and switch over to on demand, pitying those who have no choice.
Here's the thing, though. Now, and for a limited time only, British TV has a choice. It can stick to what it is doing, which, the odd big-name drama aside, is failing to cut it with viewers, or it can start to think more commercially, like a streamer would.
Hayley Valentine, director of BBC Scotland, wants to 'grow Scotland further on the global drama map' (Image: free) Let's imagine one of the streamers sent an executive over, Local Hero-style, to kick the tyres of British television drama. When they looked at River City they would see not a drain on resources but a talent factory and training academy for actors, writers, camera operators, directors, make-up artists - you name it. The money is already spent, the bricks and mortar are there, the rest, if managed correctly, is gravy.
Once they've looked over the books on that, our executive might care to examine the current deal Scotland gets from public service broadcasters. Despite being legally obliged to spend money outside London, some broadcasters - hello BBC - are being unusually creative in how they define Scottishness. Take one of the corporation's biggest hits of recent years, The Traitors. Filmed in Scotland and claimed by the BBC as a Scottish production, yet 71% of the roles on the show are filled by people living in London (figures from the campaign group Speaking Up for Scotland's Screen Talent).
The last task for our visiting streaming executive would be to note that Adolescence is an international hit, but the talent in front and behind the camera is homegrown and largely working class. River City has featured many a well-known BBC Scotland face, but it has also given breaks to actors who might otherwise not have made it onto the screen because their accent did not fit.
As Adolescence creator Stephen Graham has argued, the industry needs more working-class voices and storylines. That's where the new material, the best ideas, the genuine talent, is coming from, and River City can help bring more of it to the screen. Besides all that, it's a decent enough watch and funny with it. Think again BBC Scotland, before it is too late.
Alison Rowat is a writer and critic for The Herald