Through the Looking Glass - Succession: Between King Lear and the Murdochs

The problem in Succession is that the patriarch, though weakened by age and sickness, is of a completely different temperament than his children.

Failed takeovers, hostile bids, shady plots, betrayals, dark traps: events follow one another at a hellish pace. It’s war in the Roy family, Americans of British origin, and this is made obvious from the very first images of the first episode of the first season. There are no holds barred, even the lowest, cruellest, most unthinkable ones within a family. Paternal emotions are diverted, manipulated, exploited in the most cynical, Machiavellian way, at an ever-faster pace. In Succession, everyone is fundamentally "bad" and fundamentally unsympathetic, starting with the patriarch Logan Roy. To maintain control over the empire he has built, he is willing to play his children off against each other, using and even encouraging their weaknesses. An unworthy father, but an incomparable empire builder, he will pay dearly to save his own skin. Next to the Roys, the Borgias would seem almost naive. Even the seemingly most innocent characters will, over the course of the episodes, be won over by cynicism and harshness. In the world of series, Succession is particularly and deliberately dark. No character is supposed to be or become a "nice or almost nice villain", even as we grow to know them better. It’s a far cry from Dallas or House of Cards. Here everything is only "luxury, frenzy and moral ugliness", as Paul Verlaine would say. The series would quickly become depressing, were it not for the scathing humour, always present and almost redemptive, as if the authors of the series were trying to say: "It's terrible what happens, isn't it? It really is a reflection of our world. But don't take us too seriously, anyway". This is the world of realistic satire. 

At the time, House of Cards may have heralded Donald Trump’s victory, President Underwood being a pale fictional version of what would happen in reality. As a perfect summary of the Trump years, could Succession be heralding his end? In any case, it reflects a spectacular reversal of America's priorities. The terrorist threat that appears briefly in season one becomes secondary. It now only serves as a pretext for the President of the United States to cancel the meeting he had set with the media tycoon. There could not be a greater contrast with Homeland, or even in its roundabout and indirect version, with Game of Thrones. The enemy is no longer the terrorists. Rather, it is the "hyper-rich", with their scandalous lifestyles and total cynicism, who live on another planet, convinced that their money gives them a pass to do anything. At the end of season one, the drama becomes exceptional. During a lavish wedding in an English castle - Downtown Abbey fans would not be disappointed - a plot against the magnate quickly unfolds, as he marries his daughter off. For the sake of appearances, the family is reunited for the occasion, but the main action takes place elsewhere. The bride is no longer the star of her own wedding. Her father has stolen the limelight from her as a hostile power takeover happens in front of our eyes. 

Succession deeply divides its very large audience. For some it is simply "a little gem", the most perfect series America has given us since Game of Thrones. For others - who almost feel guilty about succumbing to their voyeurism by continuing to watch it - it is simply despicable. For them it is an illustration, or even a defense of what America has become: a country without faith, nor law, guilty and a victim at the same time of the financialization of the world. This society does not need an external enemy. Evil has won from within. Since the recent tragic events in Lebanon, some American commentators have spoken openly about the "Lebanonization" of the United States: the polarization of society, the weakening of the State, the rise of violence and corruption, the dysfunction of politics that has become structural. Could this excessively pessimistic vision - America has not become, and is not in the process of becoming Lebanon - be illustrated, if not encouraged, by the success of a series such as Succession? Has fiction once again preceded reality, or is it merely a pale and timid illustration of it? Would Succession explain the reasons for wrath in the face of rising inequalities and the excesses of capitalism in the world?

There are no answers to this question, but it deserves to be asked. It is at the heart of this summer's exploration of the relationship between the world of series and the world at large. Who influences whom? And in what way? From the parallel drawn between symbolic power (The Crown) and real power (Borgen), to the transatlantic reflection on the crisis of politics (Baron Noir and House of Cards), from the geopolitical analysis of the ways to fight terrorism (The Bureau) to the possible return of fascism (The Plot against America) and the ‘resistible’ rise of populism (Years and Years), or the topical issue of pandemics (Counterpart or The Last Ship), we have drawn up an inventory of the World of Series. Some of our choices may have seemed too obvious, others not obvious enough. As always, there is a bit of randomness in the selection made. Who's ready to write and about what? Subjectivity sometimes triumphs naturally.
 

On behalf of the Institut Montaigne and on my own behalf, I would like to thank all those who were up for this summer challenge.

Copyright : HBO