Only suckers thought that one of the Roy kids would emerge triumphant in “Succession,” HBO’s scrum of a hit show.
It was evident from the beginning that there would be no winners. Survivors, maybe. But even they would hobble forward with scars both visible and invisible, enriched perhaps but also stripped of any humanity.
Off-screen, those who watched the show that ended with a Shiv-to-the-gut finale on Sunday lost a little something, too. Why? Because to absorb a satirical drama built around the very things that threaten our civility and democracy is to normalize the poisonous vapor that threatens to choke all of us.
As you can probably tell, I’m not a big fan of “Succession.” I kept dipping in, expecting to learn why so many people loved a drama that turned on whether a circle of emotionally wounded siblings could dethrone an evil king. Instead, I found more indigestion than answers.
Nor was “Succession” the only show I followed this spring with a certain reluctance. My other swallow-hard-and-watch-it show is called “Extrapolations” on Apple TV Plus and it depicts how our world will change in horrifying ways as temperatures creep higher in a series of stories from different years, ending in 2070. That might seem a long way off, but it’s not: A kid who’s old enough to get a driver’s license this year will turn 63 in 2070.
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“Succession” is a monster hit, while “Extrapolations” is slowly building an audience. I wish it were the other way around, but I understand why that’s unlikely. “Extrapolations” makes climate change the central character, and while a warming planet is a mean SOB, we’re not quite ready to fully open our eyes to its terrors: weather patterns that are ever fiercer and displacements that follow. Massive forest fires that start in winter and burn for years. Insects that become ever more deadly. Wars over water. Animals that become extinct. A new constellation of childhood diseases related to smoke and heat stress.
Follow this authorMichele L. Norris's opinionsI am not surprised “Extrapolations” hasn’t sparked watch parties, but it should. The show is excellent exactly because the warning to us is so clear. “Succession,” on the other hand, is like candy you can’t put down even though you know it will ruin your teeth. It’s built, at least superficially, on the glee of watching wealthy people suffer in their gilded cages. We see how rich one-percenters live, and then we give grace for simpler lives that are less sumptuous but also less complicated by the corrupting forces of money, power, greed and relationships that rely on transactional vectors that shift with the stock market. We can secretly lust after the yachts and private jets and penthouse apartments and at the same time say, “Who would ever want the emotional gunk that goes along with all of that?”
I have grudging respect for “Succession” creator Jesse Armstrong and his stable of writers for taking the arcs of irredeemable characters to new lows. There was not a single person to root for in this show. They were all mean, detestable and spoiled people with sawdust in their souls and acid in their hearts. They showed contempt for the working class (and everyone else) and spoke in a running series of bratty put-downs. None could articulate a vision for leadership beyond “It’s my turn” or “It was promised to me” or “I’m the eldest boy.”
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The kids who wanted to dethrone their father tried to mask their pain by buying exotic toys or gobbling up big companies, yet none of those shiny or expensive things could fill the holes in their hearts. They are small animals trapped in a box with a raptor of a father who would rather swat at his own children than give them the love they so desperately need. Logan Roy’s sudden death was meant to be a dramatic surprise early in this final season; instead, it felt like a gall stone had finally passed.
When Tom Wambsgans knocks off all rivals to emerge as the CEO of the fictional Waystar Royco empire, we know a lightweight has walked off with the title. A small man with no principles or talent elbowed aside his estranged and pregnant wife, Shiv, to get the big chair. Social media is afire with interpretations of that final moment when Shiv seemingly accepts defeat and manages to touch her husband’s outstretched hand. It’s deliciously creepy, in part because you can bet that a character nicknamed for a prison weapon still has something up her sleeve.
“Succession” can easily be viewed as a collective avatar for the poisonous pack of leaders who have set Western democracy toward the ditch — and all those who helped make that happen. But I think the show’s bigger target extends far beyond the one-percenters. The largely British cadre of “Succession” writers is holding a mirror up to all of America and slyly asking: Don’t you also see yourselves?
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