While senior TV producer Sarah* has spent 30 years navigating the film and TV industry from the North West, Eleanor Roberts is still trying to get her foot in the door.
For Sarah*, she believes it’s her age and experience that now seem to work against her. For Roberts, her working class background with no financial safety net has made even getting started in the industry a daily struggle.
On paper, they couldn’t be any more different but they are still facing the same stark reality: an industry that feels increasingly closed off. But they’re not ready to give up just yet.
As part of Prolific North’s focus week examining the realities facing Northern freelancers, we’ve shared a glimpse into why growing numbers are questioning their future in the screen industries and today we look a bit closer at some of the barriers facing two people across different generations.
“I’ve been freelance all my life. It was always a bit like being an actor, you get used to fallow periods when you’re not working and have faith the phone will ring again. After 30 years, I had that faith. Then, one day out of the blue in 2024, it didn’t. It was quite a shock,” explains Sarah*.
“For it to suddenly end feels like being dumped. But it’s with no explanation, somebody’s done with you but not told you why. It’s really, really hard.”
What she initially assumed was a short-term slowdown in work stretched into months of silence, shaped by what she describes as a “perfect storm” of post-Covid commissioning and production freezes, the two industry strikes that brought Hollywood to a standstill, and the shift towards streamer-led production.
Despite decades of credits across major dramas and documentaries, she now finds herself, as a woman in her 50s, being overlooked for work. And she never thought she’d wind up having to take on a part-time teaching gig.
“I used to get calls all the time saying: ‘we’ve got a commission, can you make it?’ Now, it’s just nothing. I emailed all my contacts as usual, they weren’t even getting back to me. Just like that, it went deathly silent.”
As emails go unanswered and the phone stops ringing, she’s had more time to question what’s really driving the slowdown.
“It feels like one day, you suddenly become too experienced,” she says. “I was told I shouldn’t put 30 years’ experience on my CV, because it makes me look too old.”
‘Nobody’s talking about ageism’
Sarah* now teaches part-time to fill the freelance gaps. Although she’s grateful for the work, it’s still just about enough to get by.
“By the time you’ve done all the marking and everything, it just about amounts to minimum wage. You have to do so much more than just turn up. They don’t pay you for that, shock.”
It’s a safety net she knows many others don’t have and she describes teaching as an “extra string” to her bow. But she’s acutely aware she may need to take on more hours if things continue as they are, yet relying on it feels like a bitter end to a career she’s loved for so many years.
“I think it’s harder for people in senior positions. I spoke to a career coach as I wanted to know whether it was affecting many people at my level of work, She said a lot of them are in my age bracket,” she explains.
But she believes it stems from a wider industry issue.
“I do think this industry has become ridiculously ageist,” she says, defiantly. “There’s a massive drive for inclusion and for productions to employ people from different backgrounds. That’s brilliant, and it’s really working, but nobody’s talking about ageism. It’s the ‘ism’ that nobody talks about.”
After applying for a role several levels down from her usual position, which she says most people do, she didn’t even receive a response.
“I didn’t even get a personal email saying sorry on this occasion, you didn’t get the job, it was a generic email that said 86 people applied for that job, 10 were shortlisted, and one was employed. That’s how it went.”
READ MORE: Behind the camera: Northern TV freelancers sound the alarm on a “skills gap” and low pay
Alice*, another freelancer we’ve spoken to in this series, describes seeing companies “looking to hire young staff at the expense of those with experience.” Sarah* doesn’t blame younger workers in top positions but she does question an industry that she says quietly sidelines those with experience.
“When you are unemployed and no one’s talking to you, you spend a lot of time trying to question, why? You’ve come up with all sorts of theories. But it’s massively saturated in this industry.”
Last year alone, she explains the first-year intake at a local film school reached 280 students. It’s clearly a sign of just how many people are being encouraged into the industry, but is there any advice about what awaits them once they graduate?
“More students are joining these courses, more than ever,” she says. “I won’t knock these media courses as it gives me work, but you do have to question where these students are going to get work after they finish.”
“I needed to pay my bills”
As a freelance filmmaker and actor from Shropshire, Eleanor Roberts has faced her own hurdles that have less to do with experience and more to do with access.
Coming from a small town that had few creative jobs, she decided to move to Manchester after university, where she studied film.
But she quickly discovered that her lack of funds and industry connections meant she couldn’t afford to take on those unpaid or low-paid opportunities like her other coursemates could, so she ended up taking on an email marketing job.
“I needed to pay my bills and then that quickly became the reality. I was doing a 9 to 5 job, so I needed to find a creative outlet.
“Most of my peers on my course were either from a neighboring town outside of Manchester, or they were given that leg up, which is great and they’re all so talented, so it’s amazing. But they were in a different position to me, so they could do those jobs for free or for low pay and get that experience on set. I wasn’t able to.”
She’s still juggling a 9 to 5 job while writing, producing, directing, and often funding her own short films. Then in 2023, she thought she’d ‘made it’ after securing funding from Channel 4 and Bradford Council to make a short film called A Happy Ending.
“I was approached by a producer when we wrote a script, and we were given the grant. I thought that would change my life. But it didn’t.”
The following year, she picked up some work on feature films and short films but juggling them, without any pay, alongside her day job was starting to take its toll.
“That’s just how it’s been. Every year, I’ve done a short film. Last year, I went down to London to work on Let’s Not Rot, which is in post-production now and will hit the festivals this year. But on set, one of the actors said the idea behind my short film Tag was great and I should do it.”
“I thought: ‘How am I going to find the money or the time?’ My partner said to use my savings to make it, so that’s what we did. We produced Tag. After we finished in October, I went back to my boring job. I was made redundant a few times from some of my 9 to 5 jobs – I was very scared, but I made it work.”
Tag, a short-film Roberts also acts in, is a queer love story featuring characters Frankie and Maude in what she describes as being “loosely based” on her life. She hopes the project will give her greater “visibility”, as despite being heavily involved in other projects as a producer on short films, the work often goes unpaid.
“We paid everyone involved in Tag, because I wanted them to work with me again, right? And unfortunately, that wasn’t my experience on other films.
“I was so keen to get opportunities. We’d agree a rate but by the end, everyone was so stressed, you just forgot about it. But even that rate wasn’t livable.”
After releasing Tag, she plans to keep making and sharing her own films, in the hope that it eventually leads to that breakthrough moment she needs to make it in the industry. At the same time, she’s realistic about how difficult that path can be.
“The reality is, if you want to be a creative and you don’t have the perfect recipe of stability at home, money and free time, it’s really, really difficult,” she explains.
“I don’t think it will happen for me until I’m 35. You see it with women, a lot later on in their career they get success with a feature film but then you find out she’s in her 40s and has made over 40 short films in her career. Women have to be extraordinary to be given a chance, whereas some men, not all men, do feel like they’re given a little bit more leeway.
“If we’re queer women, like me, it has to be a story that’s really poignant, deep and impactful. And that’s not necessarily what we want to make, sometimes I just want people to have fun and get a bit of escapism.”
She explains much of the industry still has barriers built around it from who you know, where you’re based, to how long you can afford to wait for opportunities.
“If you grow up in a major city, you’re probably meeting people earlier, building relationships earlier,” she says. “If you’re completely outside that, you start from scratch.”
“I haven’t given up”
While Sarah* fears becoming invisible in an industry she spent decades building a career in, Eleanor Roberts worries she may never be seen at all.
They might come from different generations, but their message is the same: staying in the industry is becoming increasingly difficult, while the barriers to breaking in are as high as ever.
“If you haven’t done any work for some of the streamers, which I’ve not done very much of, it makes you not as employable as someone half your age who’s probably worked with two streamers,” says Sarah*.
“It’s weird that you can have done plenty of programming and won multiple awards but that stuff means nothing anymore, suddenly it’s like going back to square one.”
But she’s not letting that get in her way. “I haven’t given up on television yet. I want to shout from the rooftops about all this.”
Eleanor Roberts is equally determined to make it in the industry.
“I’ll keep going,” she says adamantly. The next step is submitting her short-film Tag to film festivals in Europe and the UK.
“If somebody sees Tag and wants us to continue on with it – that would be a dream come true. I’ve had such low confidence for such a long time but the people I wanted to like Tag do, and that’s enough for me to make another one. We completely funded it on our own – even if it doesn’t do well critically, I think that’s a massive achievement.”
“We just have to keep knocking on doors and I need to tackle my imposter syndrome. I know so many people have it. I wish I didn’t – what a privilege not to have it! But I do think we have a solid chance with Tag, it’s probably the best thing I’ve made in the last five years.”
*Name changed for anonymity.
Our special focus week examining the realities facing freelancers working in film and TV continues tomorrow, with a spotlight on Northern independent production companies and public service broadcasters.
