"Our office is the island": When filming becomes an opportunity and when it becomes a burden for Mallorca

When the set is by the sea: work, daily life and the question of responsibility

You step out of the bar at Palma's harbor, the wind carries the scent of salt and espresso, and somewhere a seagull screams — for many shoots that's how the work week begins. Julian Looman puts it in an image: "Our office is the island." That sounds tempting because you immediately think of film lights and beach walks. But a look behind the scenes reveals a mixed picture: luxury locations and rugged northern coasts, weeks with 12-hour days, but also ordinary family routines between set and schoolbags.

The island as a workplace — not just a postcard

Since 2019 Looman's role as a commissioner has repeatedly drawn production crews to Mallorca. Shooting for six to seven months at a stretch is not uncommon. That means more than just spotlights for the island: hotels, catering, location scouts, craftsmen, drivers and security services all benefit — often for months. Income is generated, but so are demands on logistics and infrastructure: road closures, parking bans in narrow town centers and additional pressure on already full waste disposal or water resources.

Between authenticity and exaggeration: How is Mallorca shown?

Looman says the series remains fictional but touches on real phenomena like the party scene or crime. This is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, honest portrayal can spark debate and make problems visible. On the other hand, a repeated image of party Magaluf or the millionaire's villa shapes the island's image far beyond the screen. The question remains: Does a camera reflect Mallorca's diversity — villages with centuries-old traditions, fishermen, weekly markets — or does it reproduce stereotypes that overshadow residents' everyday life?

Family, routine and life behind the set

Away from the glamour, Looman lives in small apartments, cooks for himself and commutes around Europe with his family. The picture of an actor who strolls with his children on a Sunday at Portixol's harbor and then puts on a microphone again on Monday shows a side rarely seen in press photos: shoots alter daily rhythms and require concessions from schools, neighbors and businesses. For many locals, a set is not an event but an additional part of the weekly schedule.

Critical guiding question: How can Mallorca benefit without losing its quality of everyday life?

The good news: productions bring a lot. The difficult part: they also bring conflicts. What is often missing are binding rules and local participation. I propose three concrete steps that can relieve both crews and residents and create value:

1. Prioritize local employment. Binding quotas for islanders should apply to casting, crafts and catering. This creates income and know-how on the island.

2. Film liaisons in municipalities. A contact person in each municipality could coordinate shoots, inform residents and enforce quiet hours. Transparency avoids friction and builds trust.

3. Sustainability requirements. Water and energy use, waste management and traffic concepts should be part of every filming permit. Small measures — transport pools, environmentally friendly generators, time windows for deliveries — noticeably reduce burdens.

Looman's sentence "It's exhausting, but it's also beautiful" sums up the dilemma well. The island offers images, stories and jobs. The challenge is to use these resources in a way that residents are not just a backdrop but partners in the production — and that the sound of the seagulls over Palma is not soon drowned out by generators nobody really needs.

Anyone wandering the lanes of Santa Catalina or watching a fishing boat at Cala Formentor early in the morning senses: Mallorca is more than a series. If production and island work together fairly, it can become a gain for both sides — with respect for daily life and a little less spotlight.