MINT: THE DRAMA SERIES WHERE LOVE OUTGROWS CRIME
words by DEBORAH DRENOFCI
The four-part series Mint, written, directed, and executive produced by the mastermind behind Scrapper, Charlotte Regan, unveils the soft edges of first love. Now streaming on BBC NL+, it follows two young people from rival crime families who fall for each other, and in between, the good, the bad, and the ugly unfold — yet all of it feels real. Regan's storytelling puts women at the centre of the stage, bringing to light the tension between three generations of women, and the complexity of the relationships around them — the ones just starting, and the ones bound to end.
all images courtesy of BBC
The series has an interesting premise: it takes the gangster genre and places a love story at its heart from the very first frame, letting the crime world sit as backdrop rather than focus. Regan has described herself as both a rom-com lover and an admirer of gangster shows, so naturally, she ended up making a gangster romance. The touch of magical realism running through the show is what makes it feel human: it captures life at its rawest, while still making room for the most powerful, magical force we know, love.
At the centre of Mint is Shannon, played by Emma Laird, the 22-year-old daughter of a powerful crime family. Shannon has spent most of her life in a bubble, sheltered from the harsher realities of the world around her — she is, in every sense, her father's little princess. Dylan (Sam Riley), the father, decides early in the series to step down as head of the family, leaving his role to his second-in-command, whose more unpredictable methods soon start to raise concern. Then there is Cat, Shannon's mother and Dylan's wife. Laura Fraser, who plays Cat, describes her as a woman living in complete denial of everything happening around and within her. As the season unfolds, we watch Cat and Dylan fall out of love just as their daughter is falling into it for the first time. There's also Luke (Lewis Gribben), Shannon's older brother, kept deliberately at arm's length from the family business — the one member of the family who gets to stay out of it. And then, arguably the most compelling of them all, there's Ollie (Lindsay Duncan), the sassy grandmother — loud, sharp-tongued, and still very much in the game when it comes to picking up men at the bar. Cat and Ollie can barely stand each other, though Ollie softens considerably around Shannon. The women are, without question, the driving force of the show. As Emma Laird puts it, "You really see the souls of the women, which makes the show really special, and not just for a female audience."
One of the standout moments between them comes when Ollie and Cat, after a night of drinking, end up talking for hours sprawled across a billiard table. Years of bitterness fall away for just one night — two women, finally just being women together, without the weight of the family around them.
Then there's Arran (Ben Coyle-Larner), Shannon's first love, who comes from the rival family. Early in the series, while driving, Cat points Arran out to Shannon and warns her that he and his brother, Liangelo (Connor Newall), have supposedly caused trouble for her father. But Shannon is already feeling the spark. Arran is one of the show's most quietly beautiful characters, mainly because he isn't the classic charming heartthrob we might expect. He carries layers, a sensitivity, and an unguarded tenderness that's rare to see in a young man, especially set against a backdrop of crime and power. His bond with his half-brother Liangelo adds another unexpected softness to the story — two brothers, raised apart, who found their way to each other anyway. It's a relationship built more on quiet loyalty than blood ties alone, and it gives Arran's character a tenderness that extends beyond his romance with Shannon.
Mint is a beautiful representation of love — as dreamy as it is real, as harsh as it is liberating. Charlotte Regan's ability to move inside and outside each character is what makes the show so fascinating to watch; it feels less like observing a story and more like moving alongside these people as they stumble, grow, and slowly come into themselves. By the time the credits roll, Mint doesn't just tell you a love story — it makes you feel like you lived inside one, soft where it begins, messy by the end, and real all the way through.
