In a world where cultural cachet has eclipsed industrial might as a marker of soft power, countries are increasingly telling their stories through cinema and television—and being seen on screen has never mattered more.
Just ask Italy. Its recent global Netflix hit The Leopard, a lush and fiery adaptation of Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s novel, has lit up screens from Palermo to Pasadena. With its sweeping Sicilian landscapes, historical upheaval, and smouldering aristocratic drama, The Leopard has not only captivated viewers but burnished Italy’s global image, making culture a tool of diplomacy.
Scotland, too, has wielded this tool with success.
Outlander’s Legacy—and Its End
Few recent exports have matched the global cultural resonance of Outlander. Since its debut in 2014, the time-travelling historical series has delivered not only a romanticised version of Jacobite Scotland but real-world returns—jobs, tourism, infrastructure, and over £617 million in economic value, supporting nearly 11,000 jobs.
Much of that success was rooted at Wardpark Studios in Cumbernauld, a production hub that has become emblematic of Scotland’s potential as a cinematic powerhouse. But with Outlander nearing its final season, questions loom over what comes next.
“Where is Scotland’s next global hit?” asks one former member of Holyrood’s culture committee. “We can’t just be a backdrop. We must tell our own stories.”
Wax Fruit: A Scottish Saga in the Making
Enter Wax Fruit, a period drama that may just answer that call. Developed by Little White Rose Films, the series is based on Guy McCrone’s classic quintet of novels chronicling a family’s rise from rural Ayrshire to urban Victorian grandeur in Glasgow.
Unlike The Leopard, which mourns aristocratic decline, Wax Fruit tells a tale of upward mobility—one that charts Scotland’s transformation from pastoral poverty to industrial might during its 19th-century golden era. It’s as much about the forging of modern Scotland as it is about one family’s ambition.
Set amid Glasgow’s boom years as the second city of the British Empire, the series promises grandeur, grit and emotional depth:
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Shipyards and slums
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Cholera and chandeliers
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Irish immigrants and Highland orphans
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Palatial West End homes and political awakening
And, of course, Arran summers, forbidden love, and matriarchal ambition in the form of Bel, a character poised to join the pantheon of unforgettable screen matriarchs.
Talent, Teasers, and Tartan Ambition
Already, the creative forces behind Wax Fruit are aligning. The pilot “teaser”, not yet public but designed for industry pitch meetings, stars Martin Compston, Shirley Henderson, and Bill Paterson, with a script penned by BAFTA-winning screenwriter Andrea Gibb.
It was filmed at Holmwood House, a National Trust property in Glasgow, and historical adviser Alex Galloway—a top expert in Victorian stained glass—has signed on to ensure visual authenticity.
But while goodwill is abundant (a public petition for the series has garnered thousands of signatures), high-end historical TV doesn’t come cheap. Budgets can reach £8 million per episode, putting Wax Fruit firmly in the “needs serious backers” category.
Building Cultural Power with the Long Game
For Scotland’s screen sector—which has its eye on reaching £1 billion in GVA by 2030—Wax Fruit represents more than a prestige project. It’s a strategic opportunity.
Screen Scotland’s new 2026–2030 strategy prioritises stories devised and developed in Scotland. This isn’t just about being a beautiful location for others’ tales; it’s about narrative sovereignty, about shaping how the world sees Scottish history, ambition, and identity.
It’s about investing in intellectual property, recurring productions, and talent pipelines that keep studios full and communities employed. Just as Outlander turned humble Cumbernauld into a creative hotspot, Wax Fruit could anchor the next wave of domestic storytelling.
From Page to Screen, and Back Again
One remarkable ripple already being felt is a resurgence in interest around McCrone’s work. The novels, long out of print, are slated for re-release amid growing buzz. It’s a reminder that good television can spark a literary renaissance as well as a tourist one.
“If goodwill was all that was required,” says executive producer Sarah Purser, “Wax Fruit would already be on screen.”
But cultural exports require more than passion—they need financing, infrastructure, and strategic commissioning. The opportunity is ripe; the question is whether broadcasters and backers will rise to meet it.
