We Need To Talk About Stealth Nepotism, Or Fame-Adjacent Privilege

Some time ago, I expunged a large chip on my shoulder with a rant on nepotism. After Chloe Madeley, daughter of TV host legends Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan, acknowledged that her career had of course benefitted from her status as celebrity spawn, I felt compelled to applaud her for saying what many of her peers - like the Beckhams, or the Kardashians - never talked about. But the chip has started to grow once more. It's lighter, but still there. Because a different strain of nepotism has reared its head this week. It's far less explicit, way more subtle, but undeniably there. Call it stealth nepotism. Call it celebrity spawn privilege. Whatever you call it, it's all around us.

This week Kate Winslet, the Oscar-winning star of Titanic and Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, appeared via Zoom on ITV's Lorraine. The conversation turned to Mia Threapleton, Kate's twenty-year-old-daughter, who has recently appeared in her first film. Mia, Kate pointed out immediately, uses her father Jim's surname, and so was hired solely on merit.

I have no reason to distrust this version of events. I'm sure that Mia didn't start her audition with 'Hi! I'm Mia Threapleton and my audition piece is from James Cameron's seminal work, Titanic. I'll be reading the part of Rose, which is kind of funny because...'

I doubt that those who chose her for the part know enough about Kate's relationship history to remember that her first husband's surname was Threapleton, and that this young woman standing virtually before them had a connection to one of this country's most acclaimed talents. I am sure that she was simply deemed the best actress for the part. But that doesn't mean that nepotism hasn't reared its head. Simply being in the orbit of a famous person, an obscure planet circling a star, can be enough to benefit from the privilege.

Mia has grown up watching an incredibly famous and talented woman live her life. She has visited sets - she has told Variety that she did not do so often, but one or two trips is not insignifant - and has therefore observed how the film-making process works. She will have been doing her homework while her mum talked business with her agent. She will have been at family events - birthday parties, her mum's wedding to Ned Rocknroll - and therefore rubbed shoulders with Hollywood stars including Kate's dear, dear friend Leonardo DiCaprio. She will have seen scripts arrive in the post, picked up the phone to a publicist or producer, seen the elation or despair that comes when you clinch or miss out on a hard-fought role. Growing up watching these processes means that she has entered the business with knowledge and access that most of her peers will take years - decades even - to accrue. And while those who cast her may have had absolutely no idea that Mia was a Winslet in all but name, the film is nevertheless now benefitting from Kate's free publicity.

I know that I am coming across as mean spirited. It may seem like I have a vendetta against a woman who is not long out of her teens. I have nothing against Mia. She may be an award-winning national treasure in the making, and her talent may grow to eclipse even that of her mother. But her story irks me nevertheless, because it is the latest case in a packed file of stories where people claim that they achieved their status without the help of an influential parent when it simply isn't the case. Direct involvement may not have been present, but their mere presence is a privilege in itself.

Look at John David Washington. The star of Christopher Nolan's Tenet and Spike Lee's BlackKklansman is supremely talented. He deserves his place as a leading man. But when he tells stories that downplay the privilege that being the son of Hollywood favourite Denzel Washington affords, he is ignoring something key. He told Porter Magazine, for example, that he went to great pains to hide his father's identity from others. 'I felt like there was no way people would take me seriously, even if I was good,' he said. 'They would always judge me. So I hid who my father was. I guess I was protecting myself.' He didn't need to worry about if he was good. He is. He is very good. But concealing his Denzel-adjacent status doesn't dissolve the benefits he has absorbed.

This is why I must tip an imaginary hat toward Laurie Nunn, who created Netflix hitSex Education. Her father, Sir Trevor Nunn, is one of this country's greatest living theatre directors. Did he make a call to Netflix to get his beloved daughter a cushy gig? Of course not. But she benefited simply from him being in her life. 'Having family in the arts made me feel, from a very young age, like that was an option for me,' she told The Guardian. 'I’ve got friends who are in the arts whose family aren’t, and it feels like more of a scary prospect. They definitely encouraged me to follow my passions.' As she explicitly states, mere proximity to someone who has found success in the arts can be enough to make you start the journey. I'd say the same about Phoebe Dynevor, or Daisy Edgar-Jones. They were cast in Bridgerton and Normal People respectively because they were right for the roles. They are both talented young women and I can't imagine anyone else as Daphne or Marianne. Their famous parents - Phoebe's mum is in Coronation Street, Daisy's dad is Sky's head of entertainment - didn't hand them their careers. But they showed them via their very existence that success was possible, when many parents would suggest finding a more realistic ambition to pursue.

Laurie's sentiment has been repeated by Daisy Bevan, daughter of Joely Richardson and granddaughter of Vanessa Redgrave, who in 2014 told The Evening Standardthat her success up to that point 'has never been because of my family, but growing up, seeing the sets and the performances, I can imagine it’s made its way into my being somehow. I think I’d have ended up acting anyway, though.' At that point, she was making her big screen debut alongside Kirsten Dunst and Oscar Isaac in The Two Faces of January. Daisy's father, Tim Bevan, produced that film but a story at the time established that the director had seen her audition reel independently. No comment.

I digress. But I think my point is clear. Celebrities are allowed to have children, and those children have every right to follow their parents into the industry. But when Mia, John, and those of their ilk take part in a narrative that erases the indirect power that a familial link to an A-Lister can have, they are ignoring - wilfully or otherwise - an undeniable truth: nepotism doesn't have to be loud to be present.

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