100 Favorite Shows: #47 — Succession
“Dad’s got him holding the plastic steering wheel in the back and telling him he’s driving.”
In the world of Succession, Waystar Royco is one of the biggest multimedia conglomerates in the world. Headed by the Roy family, the show has less to do with the day-to-day business operations of the corportation and more to do with the behind-the-scenes posturing from the Roys. There are seemingly endless succession and coup attempts on the Jesse Armstrong-created HBO series, which debuted back in June of 2018. Some of the family members (think Kieran Culkin’s Roman Roy, for example), however, would be the first tell you that the throats cut and the backs stabbed resemble the Bluths more than the royal family of Denmark.
(Spoilers for Succession are in this essay. If you care about that, then fuck off.)
I’ve never really had the chance to experience a critically beloved prestige television drama in real time. I was too young to get on board with Mad Men and Breaking Bad when they debuted. I dragged my feet on Game of Thrones and only watched the final two seasons on a weekly basis. For a while, I thought I had finally found a monoculture drama to follow along with every week when Westworld debuted on HBO, but even that proved me wrong rather quickly. Eventually, though, I realized I was waiting for Succession.
Now, Succession is not universally beloved (some of my favorite television critics, including Alan Sepinwall, have never gotten into the series). But there is a strong online fan culture surrounding Succession and I absolutely love partaking in it! The discourse around Succession is almost as fun as Succession itself (like how the first day you can listen to Christmas music (November 1) is just as great of a day as December 25). Demi Adejuyigbe released his rejected lyrics to the Succession theme, fans took to sporting Waystar Royco apparel, and, of course, The Ringer was all in on Succession. Finally, I was witnessing one of the greats as it happened.
It honestly is the perfect show for The Ringer. The primarily sports-centric website always looks through pop culture movements and the best shows and films through the lens of sports terms. (Game of Thrones received more pieces about “winners and losers” than it did about actual criticism.) Succession is perfect for The Ringer’s model because it genuinely deals with winners and losers. Characters scheme and some get ahead while others suffer. It’s a cutthroat world at Waystar Royco and the stakes are much higher than the Larry O’Brien Trophy.
“No white drugs, no white condiments” is one of the mottos of Sean Fennessey, a film critic for The Ringer, and it’s remarkable how well this syncs up with the m.o. of Succession. And Fennessey’s not even on The Ringer’s Succession after show, Number One Boys. That was hosted by Chris Ryan and Jason Concepcion and it became my favorite way to follow along with the online discourse that surrounded the ins and outs and plotting of Succession. In their last episode, which covered the season two finale, “This Is Not for Tears,” they accurately described the episode as evolving from a screwball ensemble comedy on a yacht at the beginning to a Shakespearean power grab at the end. That’s the kind of commentary I’ve been waiting for. This is my Sopranos. (I was just a year old when The Sopranos bowed!)
The best way I can describe Succession is as the serious version of Arrested Development. It’s about a dysfunctional family in a transitional state as the business that has supported their entire narcissism-fueled lives is undergoing upheaval. The parents are manipulators and the children only kind of tolerate one another. The only growth characters receive is oriented towards selfishness and achieving higher status. It even has plenty of burns and stellar one-liners that make it humorous. It really is Arrested on a grander scale. (After all, with a pedigree of Jesse Armstrong, Adam McKay, and Will Ferrell propelling the show, there had to be some levity.)
Because of the clear influence of past dysfunctional family shows, it might have been tempting for the creative team behind Succession (headed by Armstrong) to make all of their characters bumbling, incompetent idiots. They certainly come across that way pretty frequently, but they’re also skilled workers who are in tune with their own feelings. They’re able to play the game and that alone suggests their competence. I like it better when they’re clever maneuverers. It reminds me of the large-scale games of chess that used to transpire on Game of Thrones. Everyone’s looking out for themselves and everyone’s got a plan; no one can be trusted.
The Roy family in question is clearly modeled after the despicable, cringe-worthy, real world Murdoch clan. (Never is this clearer than when Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong) takes the stage at his father’s, Logan’s (Brian Cox), birthday party, to a sing a rap about how his blackmailing, backstabbing father is “the L to the O.G.” Hey, the dude do be the O.G., though. God, I couldn’t bear it.) The Roy family seems to have their business in more territories than the Murdochs do, as Roman (Kieran Culkin) is just as likely to show up in costume at a theme park as he is backstage at one of their news programs. But it’s not about running the conglomerate; it’s about taking it over. (Didn’t you see the title?) Fortunately, the succession in question is much more thrilling than whatever debate was held between Kevin Mayer and Bob Chapek when Bob Iger stepped down from Disney.
The only problem on Succession is that it’s hard to think of who’s really equipped to take over Logan’s role running the company. Connor Roy (Alan Ruck) has the age advantage, but he’s mostly concerned with his status as a meme or if the girls he interacts with can remember 9/11. (He might be more occupied with a political campaign soon, which would finally give him a meaningful arc.) Roman Roy is a potential candidate, but his failure to sincerely address the near-death trauma he endured in Turkey shows he’s mostly interested in keeping up appearances. (Besides with a name like Roman, he’s reminiscent of Chris Evans’ preppy Ransom character from Knives Out. Better to keep someone like that close to you, rather than promoting him. Which Logan did by making him C.O.O.) Tom Wambsgans (Matthew Macfadyen) is too much of an outsider to ever hack it as a Roy. (His bungling of the Lester McClintock/Mo Lester debacle is also a major check mark in the “cons” column.)
Ultimately, though, it’s a fool’s errand to think that anyone’s going to earn their stripes on screen. Not when so much of the scheming seems to be going on in the margins between episodes. I mean, in “This Is Not for Tears,” Cousin Greg (Nicholas Braun) begins the episode by barely making any coherent sense at his hearing. He ends it by providing the documents Kendall needed to tank his own career — and bring Logan with him. Everyone is a schemer and (in the case of Roman) a dreamer. It’s hard to trust anyone when Kendall breaks down in front of Shiv (Sarah Snook) and then shows more resolve than he has all season just a few episodes later. (Personally, I think Shiv is the one who should be the successor, but Logan vehemently disagrees, which we’ll get into.)
At the end of this episode (Emmy-nominated and directed by Mark Mylod), there are four crucial looks given by the characters. The first is from Kendall, who reveals the extent of Logan’s viciousness with a stoic, liberated look on his face. The second is from Logan, whose smirk at Kendall’s reaction tells about a thousand different stories. (Will he instigate nuclear war against Kendall? Is he proud that his son finally proved that he’s a “killer,” as Logan warned him against not being?) The third is from Shiv, who looks to Logan in shock that I find hard to believe. The fourth is from Roman, who storms back into the yacht’s television room with shock that I do believe. I really do believe that, in this stake-shifting moment, Roman is the only one who didn’t see this coming.
When Logan decides that Kendall will be the scapegoat for Waystar Royco’s scandal, he tells Kendall that he’s “not a killer” and to be the successor “you have to be a killer.” From here, you can see that Kendall’s mind has been made up (it’d probably been made up for a while). What’s more, Logan provides fake sympathy and exudes fake kindness in an attempt to ease whatever sliver of guilt he feels for gutting his own son’s reputation and career. Not only can Kendall barely stomach it, the viewer hardly can either. We know Logan is just strapping airs onto his soles, forcing us to feel the same way that we do after reading pandering corporate statements. It’s easy to be cynical about companies (and company heads) who cozy up to play nice when they don’t possess an ounce of sincerity. But it’s enough to turn Kendall into a killer. It’s just his own father that he’s tearing down in this instance.
Furthermore, I definitely believe Shiv was in on this. She so badly wants Logan’s approval and he is evergreen with his withholding of it. Slowly, her loyalty to Logan seems to be chipped away (it’s hard to watch her family members dehumanize themselves and grovel for Logan’s approval and she knows she’s not far from doing it herself) and she begins to stand up for herself. Shiv knows she’s the smartest (and most glossed over) Roy sibling. Logan knows this, too. And still he threatens her and refuses to go to her wedding and tries to throw her husband (that’s Tom) into scapegoat territory. She’s not shocked or dismayed that Tom’s name was suggested because she’s past being surprised that Logan could behave so despicably.
And when she’s ultimately forced to decide on being with Tom or being a killer her father can finally give the reins to, she doesn’t play his game. She marches to her father and advocates for Tom. He relents, but accepts that Shiv will never be what he wants her to be. But don’t worry. Shiv’s better off. She clearly had this plan in motion with Kendall already. (Her advocacy for Tom is inspiring, but the way Wambsgans marches to Logan is hysterical. He grabs Logan’s chicken and leaves the patriarch scrambling with a stunned look on his face before he replies, “What the fuck was that? He ate my fucking chicken. So, what next? Stick his cock into my potato salad?”)
Lastly, there’s Logan’s reaction. As I mentioned, his smirk could mean anything. I think it means that he always knew (or, at least, hoped) that Kendall’s rogue action was going to transpire. Logan is a psychological mastermind (the framing of every yacht scene seems to portray it as some sort of purgatory/Bond lair that Logan has orchestrated — the first one to get off the yacht, goes right under the bus) who anticipates all outcomes. He had to have seen this as at least a potential occurrence, even if Kendall is the kind of guy who writes birthday raps, says, “Sails out, nails out, bro,” and uses the word, “poetess.” It’s almost like the characters know their story is called Succession. Everyone saw this coming. Except Roman, of course. (“Buckle up, fucklehead.”)
This is no small moment and it’s worth devoting this much space in the essay to because it’s probably Succession’s biggest game-changer yet. I also believe it to be emblematic of what Succession is all about. Because no matter what decisions come in the fallout of Kendall blowing up the whole Royco system, there’s no denying that they’re going to escalate and be broader, bolder, brasher. In the forthcoming season three, everything is going to be bigger — exactly like capitalism demands it to be.
As it is, season two leaned into the evil more than season one and brought in a bunch of ringers to elevate the show to the next level in terms of its orbit of characters. Eva (Judy Reyes) and Gil Eavis (Eric Bogosian) were the most fun supporters in the early going of the show, when it hadn’t found its footing yet. But in season two, we had a glut of delightful scene stealers, like Naomi (Annabelle Dexter-Jones), Rhea (Holly Hunter), and Hugo (Fisher Steves), each of whom delivered a different dynamic to the show.
I don’t want to limit myself to writing about the capitalistic themes in a meta context. After all, there’s plenty in the actual text of Succession to show us how these characters can only think bigger and can never be content. For them it’s not about making a good business. It’s about making a good life for themselves so they can kick back and thrive in it. The tiniest prick to their cushy lifestyles and they end up tearing apart the whole system.
It’s like what Stewy (Arian Moayed) tells Kendall in the season two finale: “You can threaten to stuff a million severed dicks into my ball bag, but the actual fact is we’re persuading more and more shareholders every day that we offer them just a slightly better chance for them to make a little more money on their fucking dollar, and that’s all that this is.” That’s all it is. That’s all it’s ever been.
The whole show is an indictment of this capitalistic excess because of how it always demands more. And more money is thought to lead to more unhappiness. Instead, it leads to more frustration and depression and Major League Baseball thinking they need to expand the number of teams who make it to the playoffs. It’s like someone brought the classic capitalism thought experiment to life and made it a TV show. “There are three bags of money and three people. They are each given the option of taking the money or doing nothing. If all three opt to take the money, no one gets a bag. If only one of them opts to take the money, they get all three bags. If none of them take the money, they each get their fair share of the money.” That’s the core ethos of Succession. Except every single Roy would reach for the money and then punch the genie who orchestrated the experiment when he said they weren’t entitled to it.
Even though these characters are all garbage human beings, it still sucks to see them throw away the potential for happiness on this exact sentiment of excess. Someone on the yacht tries to talk about their feelings and they get relentlessly mocked for it. That’s the way it goes for the Roys. Tom is not a treasured in-law and Greg is not a beloved cousins. They’re “shitfuckers.” They’re a party pack. Elmo and Big Bird. A Tom sundae with Greg sprinkles. The rest of us may not be millionaires, but at least we’re not Roys.
Fortunately, in “This Is Not for Tears,” we do get to see at least one emotional breakthrough. Against all odds, it’s from Tom. The yacht activity pauses for a moment so he and Shiv can sit on the shore and discuss what their marriage means if it’s open. Tom, with all of his hanger twiddling while discussing the threesome, is clearly not into the idea and he doesn’t want to hurt Shiv. But by the end, he remarks that the sad he has when he’s with Shiv would be less than the sad he’d have if he had to be without her. It’s surprisingly poignant and actually kind of heartbreaking. It’s a far cry from the Tom we just saw slipping down a water slide from the yacht while the Roys watched. Maybe the fact that he was having fun and they were looking down on him is why Tom can open up. Maybe he should get out before it gets worse for him.
Of course, there’s plenty of fun to be had on Succession, too. It’s not all finger wagging and gutting statements. It’s also one of the funniest shows on television. For one, there’s the fact that Strong is the only actor who traditionally fits the mold of Succession-esque characters (his experience with McKay’s The Big Short surely aids the conception of his persona). It’s such fun to see Macfadyen (of Pride & Prejudice fame), Culkin (Home Alone’s own), and Ruck (Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, of course) all delivering some of the most foul-mouthed dialogue you’ve ever heard. And it’s all at its apex in my favorite episode, “Prague,” from season one.
The crux of this episode sees the majority of the Roy family and their extended compatriots wreaking havoc at a nightclub. There are larger story-based implications at play in the club, but the most fun comes with the weird sub-plots that the characters get taken down. Cousin Greg, for example, does way more cocaine than any human being should, just to prevent Kendall from doing it. Roman can’t help but feel gaslit about the time he spent in a dog crate as a child. And Tom Wambsgans spends the night trying to convince himself that it was hot to swallow his own ejaculate. (“It’s a closed loop system!”) The stylistic direction from S.J. Clarkson sees the camera frenetically snake through the club, following a character here and there and going where is most interesting (and most distinctively and pointedly lit). Roman becomes the focus and Connor hangs out in the background. Then, the baton goes to Tom and we see misadventures for a bit. The whole thing is what made me become obsessed with Succession. Nothing is better than character interplay that loops back on itself by the end. (Roman says to Tom, “Heard you swallowed your own load.” By now, Tom can only reply, “…Yeah.”
The episode ends with a stunningly framed follow-shot of Kendall strutting through New York. He glides up an escalator, he towers above the city with the skyscrapers. It’s quite a breathtaking sequence that can make one forget about all the horrors we witnessed throughout the episode up until that point. After all, Succession is a horror story in that the actions of the characters are despicable, while also impossible to look away from. Listen to the opening theme music again. You’ll see that there’s a bit of a sinister, frightful tone to it. That is, unless you keep Demi Adejuyigbe’s lyrics in mind. Then, it’s all just about fighting for Daddy’s kisses.
