The British media has a class problem, according to recent research by The Sutton Trust. In short, the privately educated are over-represented in the creative industries, especially in film and television. The trust’s report, A Class Act (2024), demonstrates that this area of British culture is disproportionately produced by the most privileged segment of the population.

The Great British Class Survey (2011) indicated that the “top” 6% of the population has privileged access to three types of capital – economic, social and cultural. Its children are more likely to go to fee-paying schools and Oxbridge.

The Sutton Trust report informs us that, “school attendance is a useful proxy measure for the socio-economic circumstances someone grew up in, with private school attendance in particular strongly related to family income”. Accordingly, the 7% of the UK population which attends private schools roughly correlates with the “elite” 6% identified in the Great British Class Survey.

This article is part of our State of the Arts series. These articles tackle the challenges of the arts and heritage industry – and celebrate the wins too.

This “elite” is the group over-represented in the British media. According to media watchdog Ofcom, in 2019 only 52% of the workforce in the British television industry had gone to non-selective state schools – attended by 88% of the British population – and the privately educated accounted for 14%. A further 22% went to selective schools and 10% went to overseas schools.

The privately educated proportion rises to 38% when we look at the wealthiest individuals in film, television and music. The Guardian also reported recently that nearly half of all UK arts and media award nominees are privately educated.

These statistics make clear the extent to which the top class of British society is able to monopolise opportunities when it comes to jobs in the British media.

When we look at actors, this problem is especially pronounced. Of the all-time top-ten grossing British actors, 50% are privately educated, with Idris Elba the only working-class, state-educated actor in the top five.

For actresses, the problem is even more pronounced. In a recent snapshot of Ranker’s top 20 British actresses working today, 80% are privately educated or aristocratic, and all of them are white. Only Keira Knightley and Jodie Comer are state educated (and neither attended drama school).

Obviously, this is a problem in terms of social mobility, but also in terms of British culture more broadly. It begs the question: who represents Britain to a domestic audience, but also on the international stage? If we look at two major British hits from the last 25 years, again we see that attendees of private schools and Oxbridge are over-represented.

In 1999, Notting Hill was the highest-grossing British film of all time. Its star (Hugh Grant), writer (Richard Curtis), director (Roger Michell) and producer (Duncan Kenworthy) were all privately educated, and all attended Oxbridge. Of the main cast, only Gina McKee and Rhys Ifans were state educated and non-Oxbridge; both have regional accents. McKee’s character has a condition that confines her to a wheelchair, and Ifan’s character is barely civilised.

Paddington (2014-2025), the hugely successful British film franchise displays similar tendencies. Of the central recurring cast, only Paddington, the uncivilised foundling bear, is played by state-educated Ben Whishaw.

The rest of the Brown family, residing in a fantastical pseudo middle-class Primrose Hill, are all played by privately educated actors. State-educated Julie Walters plays housekeeper Mrs Bird with a strong Scottish accent. And as with the UK’s most successful film franchise, Harry Potter (which similarly has a handful of state-educated actors), the privately educated David Heyman produces.

The British “middle-class” shown in these films is actually drawn from the most affluent segment of British society. Yet these actors are able to unproblematically “play down” in terms of class and upbringing. Ewan McGregor, who went to the private Morrison’s Academy, became famous playing a heroin addict in Trainspotting.

This contrasts sharply with the paucity of working-class or middle-class actors who “play-up”: Kenneth Branagh is one notable example, having achieved it through an association with Shakespeare — the zenith of British dramatic art. Branagh’s Belfast – an account of his own upbringing – is remarkable in its stark contrast to the work by which he made his name.

My own research on the working-class author and broadcaster Archie Hill has shown how class also dictates which contributions to British culture are preserved, and how a narrow establishment determines this. Even when working-class people make significant cultural contributions, they are more likely to be overlooked in posterity.

Working-class actors used to be encouraged and celebrated, as the careers of Tom Courtenay, Richard Burton, Michael Caine, Albert Finney, Rita Tushingham, Eileen Atkins and Imelda Staunton demonstrate. The Atlee government’s post-war settlement in Britain concentrated resources on working-class communities and emphasised social mobility, allowing young working-class people to thrive and access cultural resources previously reserved for a wealthy elite.

The “angry young men” of kitchen sink realism and the rise of roles for working-class actors have to be seen in this context. However, as the consensus of the post-war settlement declined from the late 1970s, so did numbers of working-class actors on our screens. As Julie Walters lamented in 2015: “People like me wouldn’t get a chance today”.

As social inequality in Britain deepens, the problem gets worse: since the 1970s the proportion of working-class actors, musicians and writers has halved. Social media has enabled a new “nepo-baby” aristocracy to emerge – the children of celebrities now becoming celebrities simply by virtue of their birth.

Why does this matter? Because the narrowness of this field is bad news for diversity. We need greater breadth and depth when it comes to British culture and those who produce it.

Michaela Coel and Stephen Graham – as recent successes I May Destroy You and Adolescence have shown – are two considerable forces in this respect, but more needs to be done if this structural imbalance is to be corrected.

Sadly, British film and television frequently offers us a misrepresentative and inverted Britain, one where the majority has been marginalised, and the elite masquerade as the class norm. No wonder so many Americans think Hugh Grant is a “typical Brit”.

Nick Lee does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.