The dirty truth about the “liberation” of hitting rock bottom is that it is a luxury available only to those with a significant financial buffer. When Sophie Turner speaks of the freedom found at the lowest of the low, she is describing a spiritual pivot funded by a career in global blockbusters. For the average office worker at a London pension fund, rock bottom is not a creative catalyst or a chance to throw caution to the wind. It is a terrifying descent into debt, eviction, and social erasure. Turner’s attempt to “lean into” the misery of her character Zara is less a gritty exploration of the human condition and more a curated performance of “relatable” struggle designed to sell Amazon Prime subscriptions.

The Performance of Poverty

There is something inherently cynical about actors earning seven-figure sums to complain about the “exhaustion” of filming in a fake office. Turner and her co-star Archie Madekwe spent six weeks in a replica City of London building, claiming the experience made them feel like they had truly “climbed the corporate ladder.” This is a staggering insult to the millions of people who spend decades in those same grey cubicles without the benefit of a wrap party or a career-defining Lara Croft contract waiting at the end. The “rat race” is not a six-week method-acting exercise. It is a terminal condition for the global working class.

While the show purports to raise questions about “fairness of pay” and the “cost of living crisis,” it does so from within the belly of the beast. We are witnessing the commodification of the very anxiety that keeps people awake at night. The cast speaks of the financial crisis as a shared experience, yet they are the faces of an industry that thrives regardless of whether the public can afford eggs or rent. This disconnect mirrors the broader global instability seen in The Great Uncoupling: The Quiet Death of the Unipolar Financial Order, where the systems we once trusted to provide stability are being dismantled by the same elites who claim to understand our pain.

The Heist of Relatability

The premise of Steal relies on the audience sympathising with characters who are “forced” into criminality by their dull lives. This narrative suggests that the only escape from the corporate grind is a violent explosion of chaos. It glamorises the “nothing left to lose” mentality while ignoring the fact that, in reality, losing everything usually results in a quiet, undignified disappearance from society rather than a cinematic heist.

Jacob Fortune-Lloyd’s comment about the office environment feeling like “another life” that his parents led is perhaps the most honest part of the promotional tour. For the modern creative elite, the 9-to-5 existence is a vintage aesthetic to be tried on like a period costume. They can enjoy the “weirdness” of a suit and tie because they know they can take it off. The rest of the world is stuck in the suit, watching a fictionalised version of their own desperation while paying for the privilege. Turner’s “liberation” is a PR narrative. For the rest of us, rock bottom has no silver lining.