House of Guinness: First Episode. First Impressions.

Just like a single pint of the black stuff, it’s hard to stop after just one episode of Netflix’s new drama, The House of Guinness. But I’ve hit pause at the end of the first installment to capture some early thoughts—and to savor the taste before diving back in.

This post contains details about the plot flow and characters of Episode 1 of the House of Guinness that some may consider spoilers. I've tried to leave much behind for you to find upon your own viewing

But first, if you haven't seen it, here's the trailer, check it out...

The series opens in 1868, right after the death of Benjamin Lee Guinness, grandson of Arthur and a towering figure in the family legacy. It’s a complex time in Irish history, and the show wastes no time plunging us into the chaos: Ellen Cochraine, leader of the Ladies Committee of the Fenian Brotherhood, and her fierce brother Patrick who sparks a riot in the streets. As Fenians hurl rotten vegetables and bottles, declaring their cause for freedom with cries of “God save Ireland,” brewery workers—rallied by the family’s enforcer, Mr. Rafferty and the Dublin Metropolitan Police crush the protest, but the tension lingers as the Fenians retreat to fight another day.

Meanwhile, high above it all, the four Guinness children—Arthur, the heir; Edward, the idealist; Annie, the overlooked daughter; and Benjamin, the wayward son—watch their world shift beneath their feet. Each is forced to navigate the expectations of Victorian society and the pressure to “appear unified.” Their internal struggles hint at storylines to come, with family, legacy, and power all in the mix.

We’re then ushered to the grand funeral at St. Patrick’s, where the minister urges the young Guinnesses to rise to their moment. The post-funeral gathering is full of music, whiskey, and family intrigue, with the Reverend Henry Grattan Guinness angling for his share and Edward making a bold offer to control the business. Dramatic tension builds toward the reading of the will.

From there, the action shifts to the foggy docks of Dublin. Ellen seeks information—believing secrets are more valuable than violence—while her brother’s plans end with barrels of Guinness burning in the harbor. As the rain puts out the blaze, the episode closes with Arthur confiding in Annie and Edward, and Potter gazing up at the sky, setting the tone for what’s to come.

The message is clear: Ireland is a city split in two—the Protestant Ascendancy, embodied by the Guinnesses, and the Catholic working class, fighting for freedom in their own land.

This is the same story at the heart of Pints and Power, especially in Chapter 2: “A Brew Born Under Empire.”

There’s a hard truth here: Guinness grew, in part, because of the reach of empire. It was sold to soldiers who enforced British control. It traveled in barrels with English tea and Irish linen. It benefitted from trade networks built on imperial dominance.

But here’s the other truth: Guinness was Irish.

Guinness was born in Ireland under English rule, but it wasn’t English. It was Irish from the beginning—because Arthur was Irish, because Dublin made it, because the people who poured and drank it were Irish. But as Britain expanded its empire, it carried Guinness with it—not realizing it was also carrying a taste of Irish identity.

And in that sense, every exported pint, every imperial outpost that poured the black stuff, was an unintentional act of cultural subversion. They spread the beer, but they also spread the feeling of Ireland.

What did you think of the first episode? Did you catch any moments that resonated with your own connection to Guinness or Irish identity?

Let’s settle in and chat—after all, this pint won’t drink itself.

Sláinte,
Mike