Scotland weaves into 25 years of BBC Films

I am assuming that is what Christine Langan got when she incurred £5.57 in business entertainment on January 14, 2014. Among the raciest entries is a lunch for £138.38, but that was for four people. Where does this woman do her power deals? Nando's?

But then Langan is a rare sort of producer by Hollywood standards. As head of BBC Films, the feature film-making division of the corporation, and in common with other BBC executives, she has to publish her expenses. Her salary, £204,800 a year, is out there too.

By other standards, however, Langan, 50, is very much the Hollywood type in that she has chased success and caught it. Having joined BBC Films in 2006 as an executive producer, she became its head in 2009. Her list of hits includes Philomena (Oscar-nominated, Bafta-winning), Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa, Coriolanus, We Need to Talk About Kevin, Mrs Brown's Boys D'Movie and An Education (Oscar-nominated). Little wonder Bafta gave BBC Films an award for outstanding British contribution to cinema in February. Receiving the golden mask from Ralph Fiennes (Coriolanus) and Julie Walters (Billy Elliott, another BBC Film) was Langan, or "the great, wonderful, glorious Christine Langan," as Fiennes introduced her.

But just as Langan is no ordinary producer, so BBC Films is no ordinary production outfit. Being funded by the licence payer means having to do more than publish expenses. It means answering questions on why the BBC is in the feature film market; what it has done for Scotland; and why anyone should pay to see a BBC Film in the cinema when it will eventually arrive on TV.

Given rare access to Langan to mark the organisation's 25th birthday (yes, it has been that long since its first baby, Truly, Madly, Deeply, arrived in the world), it is also worth asking whether she believes Scotland should have its own film studio; if there is a chance of a movie being made on the Scottish referendum; and how the daughter of a factory worker mum and labourer dad became the toast of the Baftas.

The budget of BBC Films is £10 million a year, down from £12 million, putting it behind the BFI and Film4 as a public funder of film. I ask Langan if it is possible to do a straightforward cost-benefit calculation of its worth. Not that simple, she says. She prefers to look at the number of feature films the BBC has secured the rights to on behalf of licence fee payers, and compare this to the cost of making television drama.

"An hour of drama might cost anything between £700,000 and £900,000. Then it might also need foreign investment if it's an international production. And when the BBC repeats that hour of drama they'll have to pay a lot of fees all over again. When the BBC invests in a BBC film it won't take delivery of the film for BBC screens until after theatrical distribution, but when it does it has free repeats."

The investment can be anything between £200,000 and possibly a million. "But what you are getting for that is 90 minutes of unique, hopefully quality material, shot beautifully, with the highest production values, because that is what film has to offer over every other genre."

There is another way to measure value. "Whether it's Philomena, An Education, or In The Loop, those films often wouldn't see the light of day without that early interest and investment in the talent."

Some films make an exceedingly healthy return on investment. Philomena, starring Dame Judi Dench and Steve Coogan in the true tale of a mother's search for her adopted son, grossed $100 million worldwide (according to Box Office Mojo). There are major partnership deals, such as Saving Mr Banks, with Disney. Other films, because of their more niche nature, do less well. We Need To Talk About Kevin, Scots director Lynne Ramsay's adaptation of Lionel Shriver's novel, grossed $6 million worldwide. Then there are the also rans, such as 360, the international chin-stroker that grossed just $1.6 million.

When a film fails to make much if anything back the question of whether the BBC should be spending your money in this way becomes more pressing. "I would be absolutely shocked if the majority of people having the case made for them would say it was not needed or wanted," says Langan. It is about nothing less than preserving our national culture, she says, citing Ramsay and We Need To Talk About Kevin, a film about a mother whose son perpetrates a mass killing at school, as a prime example.

"I don't think Lynne would have made her films without BBC Films support. Without a doubt. I was very personally involved in We Need To Talk About Kevin. It's set in the US, it's an American story in a way but it's a universal story." It was certainly not a story that American money was all that interested in getting involved with because it was difficult, she adds. "The other thing we like to pride ourselves on is that occasionally we can be bold and we can match our filmmakers for their bravery."

Ramsay has not made a feature film since 2011's Kevin, becoming involved with various projects in America, including Jane Got A Gun, only to leave them behind. "I don't want to be indiscreet," says Langan, "but I don't think going the American route was necessarily a successful beat in her career and I'm sure she'll surprise us and delight us with future work, and I hope that we might participate in that with her."

It is one thing to talk about preserving national culture, but whose national culture exactly? Scotland, on the face of it, has done very well out of BBC Films, with its backing for the likes of Ratcatcher, Morvern Callar, Mrs Brown, Perfect Sense and Red Road. But at a rough estimate, films with a Scottish link amount to around 10% of output. While there was the recent What We Did On Our Holidays, starring Billy Connolly and David Tennant, the current slate features no obviously Scottish titles. Has Scotland dropped off the map?

Certainly not, says Langan, pointing out that BBC Films only has 11 staff, including herself. Besides working through applications for funding, the team are involved in the production of 12 films a year. It is not the case, she says, that they steer clear of Scotland so as not to step on the toes of Creative Scotland. "Our aim is to be as compatible, and flexible, and make partnerships everywhere."

Words like flexible and partnerships makes Langan sound like a BBC suit, which is far from the case. While she has the regulation Oxbridge degree (English, Cambridge), this mother of two started out in Tottenham, north London. The youngest of four, her parents were Irish immigrants who came over in the 1950s. The house had no bathroom until she was 10, nor was there a phone. "My children can't believe it," she laughs.

Yet she made it to Cambridge, then into advertising, ITV drama, a stint directing, and the BBC. "I was lucky. I had great brothers and sisters and a great mum." She also had an inspirational English teacher. Then there was part Harvey Nicks played in proceedings.

"I worked from when I was 14 or 15, in Saturday jobs. I'd scaled up from Boots and M&S, eventually winding up at Harvey Nichols in Knightsbridge. I met lots of posh kids and they knew all about Oxbridge, some of them were there. I grilled them and found out about it and with the help of this teacher I sat the exam."

As an industry player, does she back the notion that Scotland needs its own film studio? Absolutely, she says. "I guess you would have to test it, do the research, but off the top of my head I would have thought that that would be a really interesting and potentially exciting project and very, very good for the creative talent of Scotland."

One of Langan's past productions was The Deal, the dramatised tale of Gordon Brown and Tony Blair's alleged leadership arrangement. If she can help turn politics into drama, there could be hope for a film on the Scottish referendum yet.

"The Deal came about from Jim Naughtie's book, The Rivals. At the time it was a really fresh way of looking at politics, the human side of politics, and the subterranean emotional warfare that goes on. The Scottish referendum is an extraordinary shared story in our recent lives. Just the turnout to the polls is gobsmacking... So it depends on the talent, the pitch, the angle. It's an important event, massively important. Never say never."

Should any Sunday Herald reader fancy writing it, Langan points to the BBC writersroom where, as part of BBC Films birthday celebrations, a competition is planned to take a theatrical screenplay into development. It is all part of what Langan promised to do more of after the Bafta win, to bring through a diverse slate that lures money and attention from the rest of the world. Langan is thinking bigger. Just not where expenses are concerned.