The True Story Behind 'Peaky Blinders' Creator Steven Knight's New Netflix Historical Drama

The Shelbys had their razor-lined flat caps, the Roys had their private jets. But the Guinness heirs? They had brewing vats and a bottomless thirst for power that would end up shaping more than just a beer brand – it would alter the fabric of an entire nation. That’s the kind of show-making hook Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight was drawn to when he crafted his next period drama hit for Netflix. In House of Guinness, an eight-episode series premiering on the streamer this week, Knight trades the betting fields of Birmingham for the boozy, industrial battlefield of 19th-century Dublin, drafting a historical epic that feels like Succession dressed in Victorian garb. (Fans of waistcoats, cravats, and ridiculously sized top hats, what a time to be alive!)

Following the death of patriarch Sir Benjamin Guinness, the man who turned a pint into a global empire, his children – Arthur (played by Anthony Boyle), Benjamin (Fionn O’Shea), Edward (Louis Partridge), and Anne (Emily Fairn) – find themselves warring over the frothy spoils. It’s a setup that practically begs for the TV treatment, and Knight, of course, has done this dance before. With Peaky Blinders, he transformed Brummie gangsters into folk heroes, marrying the coal-fueled grime with operatic storytelling. Now, his sights are set on the Guinness dynasty at the precise moment when its heirs could either bring the business to new heights or drain it dry. With a stacked cast and a true story powered by greed, betrayal, responsibility, and revolution, Knight’s House of Guinness looks to deliver a period drama too intoxicating to resist. Here’s what we know.

‘House of Guinness’ Kicks Off With a Will That Sparks a Sibling Rivalry

The death of Sir Benjamin Guinness in 1868 leaves behind not just a fortune, but a family rift large enough to fuel an entire TV series. And, as with every great succession tale, this one starts with a will – or, more accurately, the change to one. His four heirs, Arthur, Edward, Anne, and Benjamin Jr., are forced into a precarious alliance by some of the document’s more surprising stipulations. Boyle’s Arthur, equal parts charm and volatility, collides with Partridge’s Edward, an earnest striver and talented brewer who lacks the social influence needed to run the business the way he sees fit. Meanwhile, Benjamin Jr. drinks away his prospects, while the only daughter, Anne, maneuvers from the margins. The stakes are clear: either run the empire together or see it slip away.

What makes the story irresistible isn’t just Knight’s flair for weaving family conflict into period spectacle (all while singlehandedly keeping the smoke machine market profitable) – it’s that the Guinness drama actually happened. By the late 19th century, Arthur Guinness’ legacy was the largest brewery in the world – its stout not just a drink, but a cultural export tied to Irish identity. Edward Guinness would go on to expand the business and amass extraordinary wealth, while his sister Anne carved a place in public life through philanthropy, underscoring how the family’s influence extended beyond the brewery gates.

But there was tension and division, too. The eldest Guinness, Arthur, gravitated towards conservative politics, with Boyle describing him to GQ as a “tyrant” who is “a bit of Hitler and a bit of Donald Trump.” Meanwhile, Edward is the more level-headed entrepreneur with grand designs for his inheritance, if only his brother would get out of his way. In an interview with Tudum, Knight revealed, “Before he died, their father very deliberately chained Arthur and Edward together in responsibility for the brewery. You’ll find out why when you watch.”

All that privilege and fortune play out against a turbulent Ireland, where revolution is brewing and questions of independence and identity keep colliding with the public image of a family whose choices carry real cultural weight. This is where fictional figures like James Norton’s Sean Rafferty come in. A hard-edged brewery foreman whose loyalty is as volatile as the fermenting vats he oversees, Rafferty is the fixer caught between the factory floor and the family mansion. According to Knight, he’s also what anchors the story in the grit of working-class Dublin, adding an external pressure that keeps the gilded Guinness heirs from drifting too far into sibling melodrama.

Steven Knight Is the Perfect Showrunner for ‘House of Guinness’

With so many cogs in this wheel, it makes sense that Knight is the creative tasked with bringing it to life. He’s a master at molding class tension and stylish violence into prestige television. Knight’s trademark twists, sharp pacing, and morally complex characters have a knack for turning what could be a conventional period drama into a full-blown cultural spectacle. His tactic of narrowing his lens on specific figures, telling singular stories so niche they turn universal, is exactly what a rich, complex narrative steeped in history needs to feel like entertainment and not homework.

Beyond the family rivalries and contested inheritances, House of Guinness unfolds against a backdrop of late-19th-century Ireland in turmoil, where social hierarchies are shifting and questions of national identity loom large. Knight hopes to explore the micro – ambition, loyalty, and the intoxicating allure of power – within the macro – a society on the brink – crafting a story that feels both rooted in history and endlessly relevant. In a landscape crowded with glossy, sanitized period dramas, House of Guinness is poised to offer something sharper, more unflinching, and alive with consequence. Lavish sets, high-stakes scheming, and top-hat theatrics topped off with a pint — what’s not to love?