How to Get Filthy Rich with Gary Stevenson: A Trader's Reckoning with Britain's Wealth Gap
Gary Stevenson made millions as a Citibank trader, then spent the last decade arguing that the system he conquered is fundamentally broken. This 2026 documentary follows him across Britain meeting the people crushed by that system — and the billionaires still profiting from it. It's uncomfortable viewing. Intentionally so.
What the film actually argues (and why it matters)
Here's the core tension: a man who got filthy rich is now telling you the wealth gap is unsustainable. The documentary doesn't dodge that contradiction. If anything, it leans into it.
Stevenson's argument is straightforward — Britain needs a meaningful wealth tax on the super-rich, and nothing short of that will reverse the country's expanding inequality. But the film doesn't present this as a manifesto. It's structured like an investigation, moving between public sector workers (whose real wages have declined over a decade), families navigating food banks, and multi-millionaires in glass-walled offices explaining why any wealth tax would simply drive capital offshore.
What's striking is how personal it all feels despite being, structurally, a policy argument. Most inequality documentaries stay at 30,000 feet — all statistics and expert talking heads — or go so granular into individual stories that the systemic picture dissolves. This one does something rarer: it holds both registers at once. There's a sequence where Stevenson sits with a public sector worker and the silence after one particular answer lands harder than any narration could. You feel the weight of that moment.
Stevenson himself is an unusual screen presence. He's not a journalist or filmmaker — he's a trader who learned to read rooms the way he once read markets, and that skill translates to screen remarkably well. He doesn't perform empathy. He listens.
Production craft: why this film doesn't manipulate you
68 minutes. Tight. That brevity is a deliberate choice, and it matters.
Mindhouse Productions — the outfit behind this — has built a reputation for giving provocative voices room to make their case without wrapping everything in a tidy narrative bow. There's no padding here, no extended B-roll of London skylines meant to fill runtime. Every scene does work.
What I kept coming back to is the filmmaking's restraint. The production explicitly avoids emotional music cues during the film's most difficult conversations — the kind of editorial discipline that separates serious documentary work from advocacy dressed up as journalism. Honestly, that restraint is what makes the argument land harder, not softer. You're not being scored toward an emotional response. You're being asked to think.
The IMDb rating it's carrying right now reflects its early 2026 release window — the kind of score that'll shift considerably once wider audiences weigh in. Awards contention is harder to predict this early, but Mindhouse's pedigree and the subject matter put it squarely in the documentary prize conversation for the coming cycle.
Why Stevenson's specific moment in the film changes everything
There's a scene early on where Stevenson essentially acknowledges the absurdity of his position. A man who made millions telling you the system is broken. Most documentaries would hide that contradiction or gloss over it. This one uses it as the foundation for everything that follows.
That self-awareness, rather than undermining his credibility, sharpens it. You're not watching a sanctimonious crusader. You're watching someone who profited from the exact mechanisms he's now criticizing, and who seems genuinely uncertain about his right to speak about them. That tension — the uncertainty — is what makes him a compelling screen presence.
It's the opposite of the usual documentary voice. Nobody's here to save you. Nobody's pretending they have all the answers.
Where to watch and what you need to know
Released: 2026
Runtime: 68 minutes
Produced by: Mindhouse Productions
The documentary is available on major OTT platforms. Movie OTT's streaming tracker updates in real time as licensing windows shift, and it'll show you exactly where it's available in your region right now — streaming rights for documentaries like this can change week to week, especially after a new release.
The 68-minute runtime means you can watch it in one sitting without losing focus, which matters for a film that's making a sustained argument rather than just telling disconnected stories.
If you've watched similar documentaries, here's how this differs
Seen The Two-Income Trap? Inequality for All? Those films either stay theoretical or go hyper-personal. This one treats both registers as equally valid — the economics matter, but so does the woman in the Midlands describing her weekly budget. Neither one cancels the other out.
The closest comparison might be Inside Job (2010), which also featured finance-world insiders critiquing the systems they'd worked within. But that film was angrier. This one is quieter, which somehow feels more dangerous. When Stevenson sits across from someone whose life has been shaped by the policies he used to benefit from, the absence of score or dramatic cutting makes you notice what you might otherwise miss.
The questions people actually ask about this film
Should I watch it if I don't care about economics?
You don't need to be interested in tax policy to find this compelling. It's fundamentally about how inequality reshapes actual lives — that's the human story underneath the policy argument. If you watched Hillbilly Elegy or The Social Dilemma, you'll know what I mean.
Does it feel dated already?
Not particularly. The specific tax proposals might shift with government, but the core observation — that Britain's wealth gap has reached a breaking point — isn't going anywhere. This film will probably feel even more relevant in five years.
Is it depressing?
Genuinely, yes. Not in a manipulative way. In a "you're going to think about this after it ends" way. Which is the whole point.
Final word
Not everyone will agree with Stevenson's conclusions. That's fine — the film doesn't need you to. What it needs is your attention for 68 minutes, and it earns that attention by treating you seriously. This is documentary filmmaking that presents a real argument, real opposition, and real people caught in the middle of a debate that shapes their lives whether they follow it or not.
If you care about where Britain is heading economically, or if you're just interested in documentaries that have something genuine at stake — not just a polished story — this one matters. Check Movie OTT for where it's streaming in your area, and clear your calendar. It's worth the hour.