Banijay Entertainment’s Scripted Secret: Find the Talent, Then Back the Ideas

With 170 labels across 25 territories, Banijay Entertainment has plenty of scale. But at Iberseries & Platino Industria, Steve Matthews, head of scripted, creative, made clear that the company’s global strategy doesn’t begin with scale, platforms or market trends. It begins with writers.

“Good writers, I mean, it really boils down to that,” said Maria Grazia Vairo, director of content at Italy’s Groenlandia, when asked how producers balance commercial appeal with creative ambition.

Matthews concurred, arguing that Banijay’s challenge is to build an international network without flattening the creative identities of its individual companies.

“I built this large group of companies and then encouraged this granular process where the company has maintained their different creative identities,” he said. “All of these are based on creativity, based on talent, based on writing.”

In an interview with Variety, Matthews expanded on the twice-yearly four-day boot camp where Banijay invites writers and producers from the different labels to develop ideas or scripts during that period. “My real pleasure is looking for writers who are episodic writers and are ready to create a show,” he said, noting that the need for training and upskilling new writers and new producers has grown as the streamer boom saw certain development schools in Europe decline.

The panel brought together Vairo, Simone Oliviera of Brazil’s A Fábrica and Carolina Bang, CEO of Spain’s Pokeepsie Films — three producers working in very different markets but facing the same fundamental challenge: finding material and talent strong enough to cut through an increasingly crowded scripted landscape.

At Groenlandia, Vairo said the company’s slate has been built around original stories, often drawn from true events and overlooked characters. Its series about Italian pop band 883, for example, was initially conceived as a one-season project before becoming a returning hit.

“What they’re really looking for are original stories,” Vairo said of the streamers.

The company’s answer to the quality-versus-commerciality equation is straightforward: writers. Groenlandia has cultivated a reputation as a talent-friendly producer, giving writers creative partners who understand and develop their ideas.

That relationship, Vairo suggested, is increasingly important as commissioners look for projects that can stand apart rather than simply fit a familiar genre.

A Fábrica’s Oliveira likewise emphasized the importance of building long-term relationships with creators. The Brazilian company works across premium series, films and sitcoms and is developing several projects with writer Raphael Montes, including adaptations and original series.

The strategy is less about predicting the next international hit than creating the conditions for one to emerge.

Pokeepsie’s Bang offered a particularly clear example. The company, known for horror and comedy, moved into young-adult storytelling after Bang discovered the books younger members of her family were reading. She fell for the material and spent years trying to get the project made.

“We do whatever we like,” Bang said. “If you have in mind to have a success, you will not have it. You have to believe in what you are doing.”

That instinct is increasingly important in a market where trends can become obsolete before a project reaches production. Matthews cautioned against treating market intelligence as a recipe for development.

“You never set out to make a commercial show,” he said. “You come into the office and say, ‘Guys, let’s make a commercial show.’ It won’t be good. And therefore, it won’t be commercial either.”

The trick, he added, is finding the right balance between understanding the market and protecting the creative idea that made the project worth pursuing in the first place.

“If you robotically go to a panel where one of the guys says, ‘We’re looking for thrillers,’ and then run back to the office and try and develop it, it can be changed by the time you get through it,” Matthews said. “The trick is getting that creative integrity in the thing that you’re trying to make.”

That philosophy also shapes Banijay’s approach to risk. Vairo noted that producing is inherently risky: even strong material can stumble because of casting, financing, commissioning or any number of variables.

For Matthews, Banijay’s scale can help absorb some of that risk while allowing individual labels to remain relatively nimble.

“These guys are taking these creative decisions all day, every day,” he said. “The philosophy of getting that balance [is that] these guys can stay small, wind behind them, to come up with something big.”

The cross-border model is designed less as a factory for uniform content than as a way of connecting creative talent. Matthews described his role as providing support — funding, introductions, development time or access to colleagues in other territories — while allowing producers to lead creatively.

That becomes particularly relevant as the scripted business contracts and commissioning becomes more selective. Matthews acknowledged that “there’s a lot less work to go around,” but argued that the squeeze could ultimately raise the bar.

“I genuinely believe that good shows will get made,” he said. “Shows that are manufactured to be commercial will not.”