Anthony Boyle and Louis Partridge in 'House of Guinness.' Ben Blackall/Netflix Share on Facebook Share on X Share to Flipboard Send an Email Show additional share options Share on LinkedIn Share on Pinterest Share on Reddit Share on Tumblr Share on Whats App Print the Article Post a Comment Netflix's House of Guinness, the new 19th-century drama from Peaky Blinders and A Thousand Blows creator Steven Knight, knows the value of a big, splashy moment. Its characters, the most central of whom are the scions of Ireland's most famous ale-brewing family, do not simply go down the stairs when they can glide in slow-motion to the moody strains of an Irish rock soundtrack. They do not walk around building demolitions when they can sail through as explosions go off in the background, action-movie-style. They make impassioned declarations of love or fury, and trade metaphor-laden speeches; occasionally, when words fall short, they set literal fires. Related Stories TV Netflix Unveils First Look at Louis Partridge, James Norton, Emily Fairn and Anthony Boyle in 'House of Guinness,' Sets September Launch Date TV Rufus Sewell, Louis Partridge, Fiona Shaw, Daryl McCormack Join 'Pride and Prejudice,' Netflix Releases First Look House of Guinness The Bottom Line Considerably less dark and bitter than its namesake ale. Airdate: Thursday, Sep. 25 (Netflix)Cast: Anthony Boyle, Louis Partridge, James Norton, Emily Fairn, Fionn O'Shea, Niamh McCormack, Jack Gleeson, Danielle Galligan, Ann Skelly, Seamus O'HaraCreator: Steven Knight What all of it amounts to, once the fizz has settled, is somehow both more and less substance than you might expect. If House of Guinness knows how to grab a viewer's attention, it's less concerned with shading in the nuances that might lend the series emotional heft to go with its epic sprawl and electric energy. But when a series is this good at keeping the good times flowing, it's hard not to get a bit swept up in its veritable rivers of drama. The story begins, as so many others have as of late, with a powerful and wealthy clan facing an apparent succession crisis. The year is 1868 and Benjamin Guinness, the richest man in the country, has just died, leaving his four squabbling adult children to try and carry on the family's legacy. As the eldest son, Arthur (Anthony Boyle, who seems so at home in the 19th century it's a wonder he's actually from the 21st) would seem Daddy's most obvious heir - if not for his utter disinterest in the family trade and his outright desperation to escape the expectations of the family name. It's pragmatic-to-a-fault youngest brother Edward (Louis Partridge) who possesses both the ambition and the aptitude to run the company, but not the assumption of primogeniture. Middle son Benjamin (Fionn O'Shea) is the black sheep of the bunch, battling alcoholism, gambling addiction and a general lack of self-esteem. Rounding out the mourning quartet is their sister Anne (Emily Fairn), physically sickly, emotionally brittle and unequivocally devout. Both Anne and Benjamin are quickly disabused of any illusion that their father might have taken them seriously as contributors to the business, let alone potential successors. As if the infighting weren't enough, the Guinnesses are also beset by outside forces from seemingly every side of the cultural spectrum. The Irish independence-supporting Fenians, represented primarily by hotheaded oaf Paddy (Seamus O'Hara) and his more strategically minded sister Ellen (Niamh McCormack), loathe the family's conservative unionist policies. Religious forces, spearheaded by an unpleasant Guinness uncle (Michael Colgan), decry the immorality of the booze they're selling. Tensions come to a head in the opening minutes of the Tom Shankland-directed premiere, as protesters from every camp converge upon the old man's funeral procession, and hammer-wielding company men prepare to fight back. "The name's Guinness. Of course there'll be fucking trouble," smirks brewery foreman and fixer Rafferty, whose theatrical tendencies are not so much performed by James Norton as savored like a juicy steak. Of course, he's right. But the fact that nothing truly disturbing happens in that first scene might be the first hint that House of Guinness is willing to pull its punches, for better and for worse. Succession this is not, at least when it comes to the brutally unflattering and emotionally punishing portrayal of the one-percent. These upper-crust elites are ones we're meant, at the end of the day, to sympathize with and root for. The show is by no means blind to the dark and sweeping social forces shaping the times, up to and including the extreme inequality that allows the Guinnesses to get ice shipped in special from Greenland while cholera-stricken villagers just a mile down the road struggle to find clean water. Nor is it entirely worshipful of the Guinnesses. Even as the clan get more involved in charity, or soften their previously firm unionist stance, the