In the smoke-filled backrooms of Birmingham’s underworld, where razor blades hide in flat caps and ambition is sharper than any switchblade, the Shelby family has always thrived on the edge of oblivion. From the gritty trenches of post-World War I England to the glittering yet treacherous halls of 1930s high society, Peaky Blinders has captivated audiences with its unflinching portrayal of power, loyalty, and the brutal cost of legacy. The series, which wrapped its sixth and ostensibly final season in 2022, left fans reeling from Tommy Shelby’s haunting dance with death and the unresolved fractures within the family. But hold onto your whiskey glasses— the Peaky Blinders saga isn’t over. Far from it. Netflix and the BBC have greenlit two explosive new seasons, officially dubbing them as the continuation of the Shelby dynasty. Season 7 is officially in production, promising a blood-soaked return that thrusts a new generation of Shelbys into the fray, where old ghosts collide with fresh vendettas in a web of power plays and betrayals that could shatter the empire once and for all.

Creator Steven Knight, the mastermind behind the razor-edged narrative, has long hinted at expanding the Peaky universe beyond Tommy’s era. What began as a modest BBC period drama exploded into a global phenomenon, blending historical grit with operatic drama, courtesy of Cillian Murphy’s magnetic portrayal of the tormented gang leader. Seasons one through six chronicled the rise and near-fall of the Peaky Blinders, from street-level turf wars against Italian and Jewish rivals to Tommy’s audacious flirtations with fascist politics and his personal demons. The 2022 finale, with its opium-laced visions and a gunshot echoing through the fog, seemed like a poetic end. Tommy, riding off into the misty countryside, appeared to have cheated fate one last time. Yet, whispers from the set suggested more: a feature film, The Immortal Man, was announced shortly after, intended as a bridge to future stories. Now, with those two sequel seasons locked in—each comprising six taut episodes—the floodgates have opened. Production kicks off imminently, with a Netflix global rollout slated for late 2026, followed by BBC One airings in the UK. And yes, Cillian Murphy is back, not just as an executive producer but potentially in a shadowy, recurring role that teases his survival—or resurrection.

At the heart of this revival pulses a seismic shift: the torch passes, not gently, but in a blaze of inheritance and infighting. Season 7 catapults us forward into the turbulent 1940s, as World War II’s ashes settle over a Britain forever scarred. The Shelby family, now a sprawling conglomerate blending legitimate businesses like horse racing and property development with shadowy arms dealing and political maneuvering, faces existential threats from within and without. Enter the new generation: Arthur Shelby Jr., the hot-headed son of the late Arthur Shelby (Paul Anderson’s boisterous enforcer), emerges as a volatile heir apparent. Groomed in the family’s cutthroat academies but radicalized by the war’s horrors, young Arthur is a powder keg of charisma and cruelty, wielding his father’s brute force with Tommy’s calculated cunning. Picture a Shelby scion who quotes poetry amid gunfights, his flat cap tilted defiantly as he navigates black-market rackets in a rationed postwar economy.

But no Shelby rises unchallenged. Enter Eliza Shelby, Tommy’s estranged daughter from a fleeting affair in season five, now a sharp-tongued Oxford graduate turned underground journalist. Long absent from the family fold, Eliza returns with a vengeance, armed not with razors but with damning exposés that threaten to unravel the Peaky empire’s fragile legitimacy. Her arc promises the series’ most intoxicating betrayal yet: seduced by a charismatic MI5 operative posing as an ally, she leaks intelligence that could topple the Shelbys’ wartime profiteering schemes. Is it vengeance for a childhood stolen by the family’s sins, or a desperate bid to forge her own path? Knight has teased that Eliza’s duality—fierce loyalty clashing with moral absolutism—will drive the season’s emotional core, forcing viewers to question if blood truly is thicker than ink.

Power plays abound as old foes resurface in evolved guises. The Changretta family, those vengeful New York Italians from season four, slithers back with a vengeance, their syndicate now fused with American mob muscle courtesy of post-war immigration waves. Led by a cunning matriarch, the widow of Luca Changretta, they orchestrate a sophisticated heist on the Shelbys’ Birmingham vaults, blending high-stakes casino intrigue with hallucinatory opium dens reminiscent of Tommy’s darkest visions. Meanwhile, across the Irish Sea, the McCormack clan—emboldened by IRA sympathizers—launches guerrilla strikes, exploiting the family’s divided loyalties. Ada Shelby (Sophie Rennie’s steely matriarch), now a Labour Party rising star, walks a razor’s edge between parliamentary reform and fraternal fealty, her decisions rippling through episodes like shockwaves. And lurking in the periphery? A spectral Tommy, perhaps as a grizzled advisor or a mythologized phantom, pulling strings from the shadows. Murphy’s involvement hints at flashbacks or dream sequences that blur the line between memory and manipulation, ensuring the original cast’s ghosts haunt every frame.

What elevates these new seasons beyond mere nostalgia is Knight’s ambition to dissect legacy in an era of upheaval. The 1940s backdrop—VE Day celebrations masking economic despair, the dawn of the welfare state clashing with entrenched oligarchies—mirrors our own fractured times. The Shelbys’ empire, once a beacon of working-class ascent, now grapples with obsolescence: How do razor gangs adapt to tanks and wiretaps? Young Arthur’s arc explores toxic masculinity’s evolution, his brutal interrogations of rivals giving way to psychological warfare, while Eliza embodies the feminist undercurrents bubbling beneath the series’ macho veneer. Betrayals layer like Birmingham’s fog: a trusted lieutenant sells out to the coppers for a slice of the pie; a romantic entanglement with a Russian émigré spy unravels into double-crosses; even family elders like Aunt Polly’s spirit (via Helen McCrory’s archival magic or a recast successor) whisper warnings from beyond. Each twist builds to a mid-season gut-punch: the assassination of a key Shelby at a lavish Ascot race meet, igniting a vendetta that spans the Atlantic.

Visually, expect the series’ signature alchemy to evolve. Cinematographer Laurie Rose, if returning, will trade sepia-toned industrial gloom for the stark contrasts of blackout Britain—neon-lit speakeasies flickering against ration-book drudgery, horse tracks churned to mud under wartime boots. The score, that hypnotic fusion of Nick Cave’s brooding ballads and Anna Calvi’s ethereal wails, will incorporate wartime swing and early rock ‘n’ roll, underscoring dance-floor trysts that mask knife-edge negotiations. Casting rumors swirl like cigarette smoke: Barry Keoghan as the unhinged young Arthur, channeling his Saltburn menace; Florence Pugh stepping in as Eliza, her Midsommar intensity perfect for a woman who weaponizes words; and whispers of Timothée Chalamet as a suave American interloper, injecting fresh star power.

Fan fervor has already ignited online forums and pub debates, with #PeakyRevival trending worldwide. “Finally, the Shelbys get the multigenerational epic they deserve,” one devotee posted, echoing the sentiment that Peaky Blinders transcends gangster tropes to probe the human cost of ambition. Critics, too, salivate at the prospect: after the film’s production wraps (slated for a 2026 theatrical bow), these seasons will weave seamlessly, perhaps even incorporating Murphy’s cinematic exploits as mythic lore. Yet, risks loom—can the show recapture its raw urgency without diluting Tommy’s shadow? Knight’s track record, from Taboo to SAS: Rogue Heroes, suggests yes; his scripts have always thrived on reinvention.

As the cameras roll, one truth endures: in the Peaky world, survival demands adaptation, and mercy is a myth. Season 7 doesn’t just resurrect the Shelbys; it redefines them, thrusting heirs into battles where every alliance frays and every victory tastes of ash. Power plays will topple titans, betrayals will carve deeper than razors, and the new generation? They’ll learn that the family business isn’t just crime—it’s a curse, etched in blood and bound by ghosts. Birmingham’s streets await their reckoning. By order of the Peaky Blinders, the saga endures. Fans, steel yourselves: the blinders are off, and the eyes of the world are watching.