Maklay62, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
Absolutely Corrupt: The Perverse Appeal of “Succession”
At first glance, HBO’s Succession is a series that seems to have it all. It features a hideously wealthy family whose grown children are struggling for control of a multi-national media conglomerate after the upcoming retirement—or demise—of their father, corporate patriarch Logan Roy (Brian Cox), its sadistic autocrat. What’s not to like? Insanely rich people, pernicious and ubiquitous sibling rivalry, and—ta da—a little politics thrown in for good measure. This is an epic tale of American royalty.
But after watching a few episodes—and hoping against hope—that even one slightly redeemable character from the Roy family will be presented, the viewer realizes that this clan is very embodiment of everything that is wrong with American capitalism and culture. They are arrogant, corrupt, immoral, ruthless, and avaricious. They are power-hungry, privileged, and will do anything to maintain their stranglehold on the worldwide media market. There is not one likable character in the bunch—except perhaps for Logan’s exiled brother Ewan (James Cromwell) and their sublimely idiotic nephew Greg (Nicholas Braun).
Patriarch Logan Roy is married to Marcia (Hiram Abbas), a foreign woman with a somewhat mysterious past and cutthroat tactics. Through ruthless business dealings, he has built Waystar, his business, into a world-wide multi-media empire that foments lies, half-truths, and caters to privatized special political interests. The company denies climate change, employs a neo-Nazi as one of its primetime hosts, and encourages sexism and racism. As long as it makes money, Roy does not care.
Eldest son Connor (Alan Ruck) is not affiliated with the family business. He lives in the New Mexico desert and ostensibly protects the wilderness there—though his significant other says he doesn’t do anything. Son Kendall (Jeremy Strong) reveres his father (even as he attempts to usurp him) and is well-versed in the family business. Son Roman (Kieran Culkin) is a lazy, sardonic, and arrogant good-for-nothing who is too feckless to stand up to his father, instead hiding behind an opaque layer of cynicism. Finally, there is Siobhan (Sarah Snook), who is as ruthless and ambitious as her brother Kendall, but who also has a chip on her shoulder because she has been overlooked as a successor because of her sex.
They all have their sympathetic moments. We feel a modicum of pity for son Kendall (Jeremy Strong), the initial apparent heir of Waystar, the family company, after seeing his own father betray and humiliate him once, and then twice, and then once again. Then, in a later episode, when Kendall attempts to stage a hostile corporate takeover against his own father, he is foiled by an act of familial blackmail. Not much love lost here.
The oldest son from a first marriage Conor (Allen Ruck) is probably—owing to this limited intelligence—the most benign of the bunch, but access to the family fortune and his own cluelessness still make him a danger to himself and others. With no experience and on a whim, he decides to run for president of the United States. This unthinking and ill-considered use of resources speaks volumes to the insolent use of unfettered power. But Connor is so clueless as to the workings of the real world, we almost feel sorry for him.
Roman is despicable. During the first episode, he offers a child one million dollars if he can hit a home run. The child—of course—cannot do it. This offhand cruelty is a trademark not only of Roman’s personality but is part of the Logan brand. Yet his difficulties in forming or maintaining any sort of meaningful relationship (also a part of the Logan brand) is sad. His over-the-top weird relationship with family lawyer Gerri (J. Smith-Cameron) is disgustingly yucky.
Siobhan (Sarah Snook), Daddy’s little girl, is as fierce and ruthless and intelligent as her father, but (until it suits her father’s scheming) is never considered as a successor because she is a woman. She would—and does—throw any member of her family under the bus in order to get ahead.
So, this begs the question of why Succession is the hottest series on streaming television. Granted, other programs like The Sopranos or Game of Thrones feature nasty characters like Tony Soprano or Cersie Lannister that are outrageously nasty, immoral, or cruel, but even these characters have some redeeming qualities. Tony and Cersei both love their kids. Logan only shows an off-handed regard for his own children, usually as they’re driving. His only love is money, the Logan brand, and his children have learned the ins and outs of their heritage well. They are as ruthless, unfeeling, venomous, cruel, selfish, arrogant, disloyal, disgusting, and nasty as their father. And yet, like driving past an accident on the freeway, we have to slow down and look.
Because the series finale is coming up this weekend (and will have played at the time of this column’s publication), there has been a slew of publicity and commentary about the series and how it echoes the real-life saga of the Murdoch family empire. Rupert Murdoch, of course, is the founder of Fox News and the owner of The Washington Post and various other prestigious media outlets. Like Logan Roy, he has created a media empire that maintains—in the best light—questionable journalistic standards. Their news coverage is anything but objective. During the 2000 and 2016 presidential elections, they played favorites with candidates, even switching network election predictions at the behest of members of that party. The truth doesn’t matter to Murdoch. Money does.
Is this the appeal of Succession? That in some ways it is a very true-to-life reflection of our own society? Or is it the very weird American fascination with royalty? As much as we proclaim ourselves to be a republic governed by the people, Americans have always maintained an almost perverse fascination with royalty. Elements of our first government, including Alexander Hamilton, wanted George Washington to be president for life. John F. Kennedy, his beautiful wife Jackie, and their administration was known as Camelot. We have the Clintons, the Bushes, and the remnants of the Kennedys—our American nobility. Or is it the fascination of wealth that holds our attention? Figures like Donald Trump, Elon Musk, and Jeff Bezos, ultimate success stories of American capitalism, are heroes to many.
Succession is compelling viewing. It is hard to look away. The scheming, backstabbing, betrayals, and political maneuverings are fascinating. Like House of Cards, it is a study in the rise and the consolidation of evil in our highest institutions, but even as we reassure ourselves that this is only fiction, the echoes of Succession, heard in those wee hours as we lie awake in bed wondering what will become of us, resonate as we watch our society descend into the same sort of chaos that brought us January 6th.
The question really is what will our own real-life succession look like?