I think we can all agree that the grimy underbelly of Trainspotting’s Edinburgh seems worlds away from the rah-ified city that we know and love. Filmed in the 90s, with its iconic soundtrack, bright colours and grainy video quality, the heroin-stained lives of Renton, Sick Boy, Spud, Tommy and Begbie seem completely incompatible with any classic ideals of Edinburgh that we might have (to name a few: the Meadows in spring, climbing Arthur’s Seat in fresher’s week, and yummy mummy sightings at Stockbridge market on a Sunday). However, taking a closer look at the most popular representations of Scotland (and particularly Edinburgh) in film and television, most seem to juggle the same principal themes of substance abuse, loss, grief and despair. Both released in 2024, Richard Gadd’s Netflix series, Baby Reindeer, along with the Netflix adaptation of David Nicholl’s novel One Day, are our most recent points of TV reference to public perception of the Scottish image, and whilst they each follow drastically different plot lines (Baby Reindeer seems to be the antithesis to the heart-wrenching love story of One Day, although Emma and Dexter might have got together a bit quicker if they communicated more like Gadd and Martha), there remains those same underlying themes of substance abuse and despair affecting the male protagonists. The question then becomes this: has Scotland been put into a very unnuanced box by TV and media?
After watching Trainspotting, although it clearly portrays Scotland and being Scottish as “shite”, I couldn’t help but feel that there is a perverse kind of glamour, and certainly an element of cool-ness in the extent of the film’s grime and grunge. Harrowing scenes of infant death and graphic depictions of injecting hard drugs are wrapped up in the party package of 90s pop culture all the way down to the iconic soundtrack, and the constant comedic note running through the film makes its deeply disturbing reality seem not so bad at all. The characters are painted as caricature village idiots, scamming the system for benefits and avoiding work so they can indulge in the simple pleasures of a few pub pints (and a few hits of heroin), and the crackhouse ironically pretends to offer silver-style restaurant service, with Renton even being asked if “Sir [would] like to call for a taxi?” after an overdose. Even though the film strips its characters completely bare, the triumphant happy ending for Renton at least justifies, and to an extent romanticises the grimy, druggy lives he and his friends have lived.
Baby Reindeer, on the other hand, presents an unequivocally harsh and disturbing reality of abuse, managing to convey real human fear, and displaying uncomfortably upsetting scenes. Perhaps it is because Richard Gadd plays himself as the protagonist in a TV adaption of his own life that makes this series seem so chillingly real, without any pretenses or comedic protection. The show branches out from ‘Trainspotting stereotypes’, placing this Scottish protagonist amongst a huge range of issues explored in global film and TV, from sexual and masculine identity to career success, but it still makes a direct connection between Scotland and drug addiction, with Gadd being hooked on drugs by his sexual abuser that he meets at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. And despite being set two decades after the cult-classic film, the scenes of Gadd’s hopeless Fringe comedy set reveal Scotland’s grimy pub culture, with the red-faced hecklers reminiscent of Renton and co. ‘s brutish behaviour.
In complete contrast, the poetic love story of One Day romanticises Scotland in a way that seems incongruable with the darkness of Trainspotting and Baby Reindeer. In fact, tourism and online searches for Edinburgh were set to increase after the show’s release, and social media rumoured that enthusiasts would take Emma and Dexter’s rite of passage by climbing Arthur’s Seat on St. Swithin’s Day; the ‘one day’ around which the series revolves. Whilst the show portrays similar themes to Trainspotting and Baby Reindeer, of heartbreak, addiction, and loss, it’s all through the lens of English students who have spent a mere fraction of their lives in Edinburgh, much like most of us. The shiny, expensive way in which Dexter abuses drugs is the polar opposite to Gadd’s forced addiction and Renton’s all-consuming need for heroin; all stemming from his self-loathing, boredom and ridiculous excess of money.
Although Edinburgh is central to the storyline of One Day, I’m not sure that it helps to dismantle the long-standing associations of drug culture in Scotland, built by Trainspotting, and to a certain extent cemented by Baby Reindeer. It is an English person’s Edinburgh, and whilst it has helped Scotland’s tourist market, it’s perhaps not relevant to the image of Scottish identity. In short, there is still a lot of work that needs to be done to diversify Scottish representation in film and TV, and take us deeper than these substance-abuse related stereotypes.
“Arthurs Seat” by martin.mutch is licensed under CC BY 2.0.