Nathan Braniff on Blue Lights, Belfast, and the fine line between humour and heartbreak in one of the BBC’s most authentic dramas.
There’s something unsettling about watching Nathan Braniff disappear into Blue Lights’ Tommy Foster. It happens so completely you forget you’re watching television. The series finds its power in paradox: sharp wit cutting through profound loss, peril woven into ordinary routine, a metropolis both shadowed by history and vibrantly present. Central to this tapestry is Nathan Braniff, whose embodiment of rookie officer Tommy Foster transcends acting to become something more instinctive.
A native son of Northern Ireland, Braniff speaks with the territory’s natural rhythm — its razor-sharp humor, its unspoken endurance, its understanding that comedy and crisis often occupy the same moment. His Italia Conti training has carried him across theatre and television with the same precision he applies to martial arts, a practice that clearly informs his screen work: observant, centered, perpetually aware.
Yet Blue Lights transcends typical law enforcement drama. It’s an examination of a society in dialogue with its own history — and of young people maturing beyond conflict, discovering what service, protection, and belonging actually mean. In Tommy, Braniff captures the clumsy elegance of youth: the drive to establish credibility, the dread of failure, those flashes of compassion that pierce through disorder.
We spoke with Braniff about authenticity in acting, the evolution of Northern Irish narratives, and his approach to weaving gravity with levity — in his work and beyond.
Blue Lights has been praised for its authenticity, especially in capturing the atmosphere of Belfast. As someone from Northern Ireland, how does it feel to inhabit a role that reflects both the humour and tensions of the place you grew up in?
It feels really important, and I’m glad to be part of it. Everyone knows Northern Ireland has had its troubled times, but to hopefully shine a light on how much the city has progressed is a real honour.
Tommy Foster is often caught between being the “young recruit” and having to mature quickly in a high-pressure environment. How much of your own early adulthood experience did you channel into that tension?
I’ve often found myself on the younger side in acting. I started early, I played Bugsy Malone at the Grand Opera House when I was 13, in front of about 1,300 people. That cast included Anthony Boyle, Lola Petticrew, and Brendan Quinn even though it was an amateur production, I knew I was surrounded by exceptional talent. Opening night was sink or swim for me, and thankfully I managed to keep my head above water. That experience of being the “young one” in the room has followed me ever since, and I definitely channel some of that into Tommy.
The series balances humour with real danger and grief. How do you find the rhythm between the two without slipping into cliché or melodrama?
It’s all about truth. Every actor says it for a reason. As soon as you start throwing things in “for the craic,” you lose honesty. In life we’re constantly balancing emotions, and acting’s no different. Say the words, feel the feelings, listen to the other actors — if you do that, the balance comes naturally.
Northern Ireland’s screen industry has accelerated in the past decade. Do you see yourself as part of a new wave of talent helping to shift perceptions of the region, both in storytelling and opportunities?
I haven’t really thought of myself that way. There’s no doubt the opportunities here have exploded, but I think the Irish have always been storytellers. For centuries, families passed stories down the generations. It’s in our DNA. So maybe what’s happening now is just the world catching on to something that’s always been here.
You’ve spoken before about martial arts being a big part of your life. Do you find parallels between combat training and acting — for instance, in discipline, resilience, or presence in high-stakes moments?
A million percent. The similarities are huge. When you’re in that flow state under pressure, the only thing that matters is the person in front of you, their reactions, their movements, what they’re thinking. That informs everything you do, whether it’s in the ring or on screen. Your full attention has to be on them. If it’s not, you’re not doing it right.
In Blue Lights, Tommy’s vulnerability is part of what makes him resonate with audiences. Has playing him altered the way you think about vulnerability — on screen or in your personal life?
It’s made me realise how hard it can be to be vulnerable as an actor. Letting yourself go there in a room full of people is tough and then it goes out to the whole country on TV. But the truth is, even the toughest people in real life have that side to them. Vulnerability is what makes us human, so it’s important to be able to show it honestly.
Given the heavy themes of frontline policing, what do you do to decompress or reset after filming emotionally intense scenes?
Exercise is my go-to. Lifting weights, running, martial arts it keeps my body and mind healthy. And if I’m not training, I’m usually listening to a podcast, same as Tommy.
What do you hope international audiences take away from Blue Lights beyond the surface of a police drama?
I’d love for them to understand Belfast a little better. For years, the city was in the news for all the wrong reasons. It’s nice now to shine a light on how far it’s come in such a short time. Belfast is an epicentre of creativity, and it deserves its place on the world stage for that as much as anything else.
You’ve had a quick rise with Tommy becoming a fan favourite. How do you keep your head level as that visibility grows, and what keeps you grounded?
I’ve got three younger brothers, two are champion kickboxers, and the youngest is chasing a career as a professional MMA fighter. A few rounds with them will humble you very quickly!