for Kendall Roy's photo gallery.
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This post contains spoilers for the series finale of "Succession."
It was always going to end with water. The story of Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong) began as a tragedy five years ago, and ended as a tragedy tonight. Kendall has been the raw nerve of "Succession" practically since its beginning, but his true woes began in the show's season 1 finale, when, on a drug-and-drink fueled bender, he and a waiter crashed a car into a lake during Shiv's wedding. Kendall walked away, but the waiter didn't , and it feels like that water left a dark stain on Kendall's soul that never really went away. If the poison drips through, the water does, too.
Water has come up again and again in Kendall's storylines, and it's often felt dangerous. The motif has recurred enough that when he finally took a triumphant swim earlier this season after nailing the Living+ presentation , a snippet of the scene in the show's trailer left fans worried it would mark his demise. There's plenty of historical and literary precedent for water as a bad omen, especially when it comes to the works of William Shakespeare. From the story of Ophelia dying by suicide by drowning after the death of her father in "Hamlet," to the water that won't wash murderous hands clean in "Macbeth," the author whose works "Succession" regularly calls to mind has a knack for using water as a symbol — and often a grim one.
The use of water in Kendall's plotline has never felt incidental. In the episode after the waiter's death, we see him submerged in water at the rehab center where his stay is cruelly cut short at his dad's insistence. Water can be, after all, a symbol of rebirth, but in this case, it's a baptism that doesn't have time to take. By season's end, he's swimming on the yacht where his father decides to pin the company's failings on him; in one shot we see him floating in a crucifiction pose in a pool a few feet from the ocean — on the verge of drowning, symbolically, twice over. Then, of course, there's his suicide attempt from season 3, when we see him half-submerged on a pool floatie during one of the lowest points of his life.
Dark poeticism aside, "Succession" has brought this theme up enough times that even casual fans know the deal: if we see Kendall near water, we should be nervous. That made the series finale's detour to Barbados ominous, especially when the Roy siblings — in the midst of a day-long fight about what to do with the company — head down to the ocean's edge. The water is dark and roiling, so much so that Roman (Kieran Culkin) looks like a cat being forced into a bath as he stalks along the beach. Kendall, though, has no reservations: he jumps in, and while Roman and Shiv (Sarah Snook) debate on shore, we lose sight of him for a while.
If this were the first or second time we'd seen Kendall in water, it would feel like a typical scene in which three siblings go swimming. Yet after two near-death experiences, the scene feels like one last tension-filled fake-out. When Shiv and Roman speak, I found myself begging for the camera to return to Kendall, to show us that he's okay and hasn't been swept away by an undercurrent — or by the sudden urge to drown himself. When we see him emerge on a floating dock and lay there, relaxed, the tension breaks. When Shiv and Roman joke about murdering him, then float over to share their proclamation ("We anoint you!"), it's suddenly clear: this time, water isn't death, but rebirth.
Any other show would've stopped there, but "Succession" is among the most nimbly written, expertly crafted highwire acts on television, and to keep its symbolism simple at this point would go against the unrelenting narrative complexity it's built up for four seasons. The rollicking waves, then, make one last appearance, after the Gojo deal goes through. Again, we lose sight of Kendall, but this time his absence feels more dire. We see him push a button in an elevator, and when he doesn't reappear, the darkest part of me half-expected to see his body falling in the background of all those full-wall boardroom windows.
Kendall isn't dead, it turns out, but he's still drawn to death. During that last, family-breaking fight with his siblings, he says that the death of the waiter didn't really happen. No Real Person Involved, as Logan would say. He also reveals the truth we've always understood thanks to Strong's phenomenal performance — that if Kendall doesn't get the CEO job, he might actually die. The series finale's quietly painful last scene bears that out, as Kendall finds himself wandering towards the water once more — and looking at the waves of the Hudson River with something like longing in his eyes. This time, though, he has a security guard in tow, and as he sits on a bench, he's the spitting image of his father.
This scene is awash in death. There's the death of the waiter, a moment that no denial can take away, and one that surely bubbles up in Kendall's mind as he sits with the fact that he has nothing left to lose. There's the death of Kendall himself, the foreshadowed yet never-realized truth of the motif that's followed him for years. The death of Logan has loomed large over much of the final season, but the last nail in his coffin seems to settle in this scene, as Kendall comes to grips with the fact that the company his dad built is about to be scrapped for parts. Waystar Royco is dead now too, and its king with it — in spirit if not reality.
Kendall sits quietly as the end credits roll. The water rages on, but by now, it feels like something more than death. It's powerful, all-consuming, and dangerously indifferent, just like the Roys at their worst.
If you or anyone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline by dialing 988 or by calling 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
Warning: This article contains spoilers for Succession Season 4, Episode 6 — "Living+."
Part of what makes HBO's "Succession" such a unique and refreshing appointment viewing experience week-to-week is how little it relies on twists, hidden details, or even plot. Rather, the series draws its audience in with an attention to character and relationships, having spent three and half seasons crafting them so carefully that it can mine unmatchably engaging dramatic tension just by placing any two of its characters in a confined space — or by giving just one of them enough privacy to reveal who they truly are.
Case in point, the most impactful moment this week was arguably not the digital resurrection (or subsequent corruption) of Waystar Royco founder Logan Roy ( Brian Cox ), Karl's (David Rasche) surprising show of force, or even Roman's ( Kieran Culkin ) unceremonious firing of his general counsel and ex-lover, Gerri (J. Smith Cameron).
No, what is really sure to provoke "Succession" fans after tonight's episode — either by virtue of its subtle richness or merely its placement as the final image — is Kendall's (Jeremy Strong) haunting swim in the ocean. While its meaning is somewhat up to individual interpretation, looking to the series' past can shed more light on the scene's meaning — namely, via its use of water. If this sequence remains consistent with the rest of the series, it means that Kendall is finally at peace with everything he's ever done — though he won't be for long.
Water is one of the most prevalent and important dramatic symbols used throughout "Succession," though the series never puts too fine a point on the nature of the weight it holds. With the waiter's tragic drowning at Shiv's (Sarah Snook) wedding in Season 1, water seems to embody death; however, in Logan's private swim at Austerlitz a few episodes earlier, it seems to embody past trauma. While both of these conclusions are certainly well founded, neither feels unanimously effective regarding the series' complete use of this visual motif. What all of these scenes feel truly united by is guilt.
Kendall is dripping with it at the wedding reception and begins Season 2 submerged in it at the cold rehab facility; the children are trapped by it at Connor's (Alan Ruck) wedding as they listen helplessly to their father's dying breaths at sea; and the Roys and the Waystar C-Suite are surrounded by it on Logan's yacht as they try to assign blame for one of "Succession's" original sins — the disaster at cruises.
On your first watch, Logan's "Austerlitz" scene may not seem to be about him emerging from guilt with scars of his own. Yet, viewing it after hearing his brother Ewan ( James Cromwell ) mention their late sister Rose a season later, it becomes clear that Logan's childhood memories are completely engulfed by guilt. It's also worth noting that "Austerlitz" as an episode is almost entirely about how Logan's upbringing prevents him from being able to take responsibility for the emotional harm he's done to his children.
However, Kendall's swim in the ocean is more complicated in this context. If we accept that water is connected to overwhelming waves of guilt, what exactly does it mean if Kendall dives into those waves head first — and what does that mean for his impending fate?
To answer this question beyond the surface level, we need to agree on one thing — Kendall's primary motivation throughout the series is his desperate need for external validation. From his negotiations with Vaulter's Lawrence Yee (Rob Yang) in the pilot to this disastrous Living+ presentation, Kendall is consistently self-conscious about how others perceive him.
In the first two seasons, this need for validation usually manifests itself in fruitless ploys for his father's approval — or, conversely, the schemes he'll involve himself in when he is denied it. Season 3, however, explored if Kendall could possibly fill the void of familial love with outside affection from Naomi (Annabelle Dexter-Jones), his defense and PR teams, and the general public — until he finally realized in "Too Much Birthday" that, as future-President Gil Eavis (Eric Bogosian) once said, "if family isn't right, nothing feels right."
If Kendall's ideal goal is to be in perfect harmony with his ex-wife, children, siblings, and father, his reality is the complete opposite — and it's built entirely on ineffectual remorse from past actions. At different points throughout the series, "Succession" paints this causality overtly.
As early as the pilot episode, "Celebration," Kendall's ex-wife, Rava (Natalie Gold) strongly implies that the primary reason for their divorce was his drug addiction, the mere mention of which immediately sends Kendall into a somber defensive frenzy. His actions at the end of both Seasons 1 and 2 alienate him from his siblings, and their relationship as a unit isn't resolved until the Season 3 finale, in which Kendall confesses to what he did at Shiv's wedding. Finally, when his father dies in Season 4, his mind almost immediately jumps to the notion of forgiveness — while he may be denying that to Logan on his deathbed, this is arguably a psychological projection as Kendall tries to deflect the realization that his constant betrayals have permanently destroyed his relationship with his father.
That last moment directly leads to what will surely be remembered as Kendall's final turning point in the series: the bathroom scene in Season 4, Episode 4, "Honeymoon States." Directly mirroring his embarrassing bathroom tantrum in the pilot, Kendall calmly examines the paper from his father with his name on it . We may never know Logan Roy's true inner workings, but he is probably not a man who underlines names for emphasis — especially not Kendall's. And nobody is more aware of that fact than the not-so-prodigal son himself.
When Kendall finally emerges to give Hugo (Fisher Stevens) the go-ahead to kill his dad's reputation, it's the first sign that he is finally moving on from needing Logan's approval. Even if he wasn't sure about his father's last wishes for him, it's clear he no longer wants to care. Sure, he excuses himself by saying his father would have done the same thing, but "Honeymoon States" showed numerous times that the children were starting to understand that they'd never know who their father really was or what he wanted.
This scene can either be read as Kendall callously acting on his own accord or semi-consciously deluding himself into thinking he knew his father better than he did — either way, this act serves as his first step toward forcibly burying the guilt he carries for what he did to his father, and how his actions caused their relationship to end. Understanding this is the key to understanding the real reason why Kendall desperately needs to stay afloat as CEO.
At the beginning of this week's episode, Kendall asks his team to replay a damaging clip of Logan disparaging his children over and over, as if forcing himself to accept his father's animosity toward him will absolve him of how their relationship ended. The end of the episode proves that it finally worked.
As he floats in the ocean, it's clear that he no longer carries the burdens of his numerous previous betrayals, the harm he caused professional contacts like Lawrence Yee, or even the death of the English waiter. This season, Kendall is learning that he can live with his guilt so long as he buries it underneath a mountain of professional achievements.
He can live with going behind Karl's back, lying to the public, and even the firing of Gerri, so long as he retains his seat as CEO — ultimately, that's the real reason why he's so desperately trying to hold onto power despite the Lukas Matsson deal. It isn't just about power itself — it's about maintaining the one thing that keeps him from having to confront the reality of his father's death.
As both Shiv and Roman have already seen, however, Kendall's success has not translated to true, lasting inner peace. He may be able to convince himself that the gentle rocking of the waves is relaxing, but the moment he starts to feel that current pull, he will panic. He will flail helplessly, his head whipping about as he sees nothing but water — the sheer vastness of everything he's done to get to where he is.
At the beginning of Season 4, Jeremy Strong ominously had this to say about Kendall's final, Shakespearian arc: "[Series creator Jesse Armstrong and I] talked about 'Richard III' before this season, which is a play about the tragedy of a person who gets what they want, but ... by the time Richard III sits on that throne, he has mortgaged off himself spiritually and crossed every emotional and ethical moral line, so that the leakage of his soul is complete by the time he arrives there. There's very little left of him to put the crown on..." (via The Hollywood Reporter ).
Kendall's "mortgaging" of his soul feels eerily similar to someone frantically casting off everything heavy they're wearing before leaping into the ocean — to be as weightless as possible, so that they may float instead of drown. And yet, he can only give up so much before he finds himself naked and stranded in an endless sea of his own making. It is there, guilty and estranged from his surviving family by his own actions, that Kendall will likely meet a tragic end.
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Where do you go after accidentally killing a waiter? If you’re the lead in Succession you’ve got options, but “downtime” happens to be in Iceland where Kendall Roy, original heir to the Waystar Royco throne, attends, minimally, before being escorted out of a lagoon to issue a press release backing his father’s position in the proxy fight.
Series two looked set up to be Kendall’s Albatross – broken at the realisation of killing a man and subsequently becoming his father’s gilet-clad henchman.
Continuously repressing his instincts, after being let down as successor and attempting to overthrow his dad in series one, in series two the (battle) lines were clearly drawn and the white (Hermès) handkerchief was out from Kendall’s side (nothing shows how low Logan is willing to go to keep his son in line quite like making Kendall attend the family home of the boy he accidentally killed).
Kendall’s judgement has always been questionable: dick pics to Naomi Pearce, drugs in a helicopter he jokingly almost flies and the most questionable of all – a rap tribute to his father in the style of a young Louis Theroux (“L to the O, G / Dude be the OG / Ay, and he playin’ / Playin’ like a pro”).
The most questionable in Logan’s eyes is in DC when Kendall goes off piste, firing back accusatory Fox News-style lines to Bernie Sanders’ impersonator Senator Eavis, rattling the stakeholders who want someone, in Logan’s words, more “ vegetarian ”. Kendall is praised by all except for Logan, who kisses him on the cheek (an early sign that he’s a goner).
In the series finale, an equal parts Call Me By Your Name (luxurious pastel water scenes and crisp linen) to equal parts Red Wedding (blood sacrifices), Logan manipulates his family and colleagues into suggesting their lamb for the slaughter. The one who will claim total responsibility for the cruise scandal cover-ups.
The underlying choice always points to Kendall – who appears early on in the scene floating like a sacrificial Christ in the swimming pool on their mega yacht – but to the inside group, Tom is the obvious candidate to be “shit-canned” as Roman Roy puts it.
“Does Tom work?” asks Logan.
“Honestly, I don’t think Tom’s a big enough skull,” Kendall responds, in front of Tom.
“What about Tom with some Greg sprinkles?” asks Roman.
Greg, Geri, Carl, Shiv, Roman and the rest of the breakfast table are thrown under the bus, except for Kendall. Later when Shiv asks Logan to protect Tom, it’s clear there’s never been another option. Logan hangs Kendall out to dry in his palatial cabin – the only question Kendall has for his dad is whether he ever believed his son could be CEO.
“I don’t know, maybe,” says Logan. Although “good and smart”, he’s “not a killer. You have to be a killer.”
Kendall claims he deserves it, ending the conversation by kissing Logan on the cheek.
Mirroring the first episode where a ruined Kendall is led by an aide from Iceland to a press conference at the bidding of his father, this time Kendall strides ahead to the press conference on wrongdoing at Waystar Royco.
Logan, who watches on screen notes “it had to be done”. Kendall, briefed and ready to take the flack, goes rogue (finally and thankfully), calling his dad a bully and a liar, before finishing on the almighty “this is the day his reign ends”. Kendall calmly walks out to mass “fucks” from a panicked Waystar Royco team while, still watching on TV, a small sliver of a smiles breaks out on Logan’s face.
Kendall Roy isn’t a killer after all, he’s a stone-cold assassin.
Every question we have after watching the finale of Succession, answered by the show’s writer
Succession is the best, weirdest, most undefinable show on TV right now
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Plain Margiela T-shirts that cost almost as much as your rent, if not more. Suits for the price of a car. Baseball caps and sneakers and sunglasses, completely logo-less, that look so basic, they could be any affordable essential—only, they aren't. This is the wardrobe of television's one and only Kendall Roy, maybe-heir to Waystar Royco in Succession , definite style icon in my books.
Viewers (and, at this rate, probably non-viewers too) of Succession know that the billionaires on the show are all about understated luxury—"stealth wealth," if you will. No branding. No logos. Insanely expensive, nonetheless. I'm talking cashmere baseball caps that are a few hundred dollars, suede moccasins that I'd be afraid to step outside in.
There's a certain lowkey flex to the ultra-wealthy not needing to slap flashy prints and designs and monograms on their staple pieces: they may look like basics, but everyone knows they're not spending less than a few hundred on a single garment. Those who do enter the circle of the Roys with flashy designer branding are ridiculed for their tastes, ostentatious and tacky in the face of such understated luxury—RIP, Ludicrously Capacious Bag Girl. The beauty of Kendall Roy is that, as far as Succession characters go, he has a definitive style. He's not Roman Roy , with an ever-present, barely-ironed button-down and trousers, nor is he Cousin Greg, bumbling around in awkwardly-fitting formalwear. Kendall's suits are always sharp and sleek. He loves a beige knit and a gold chain and some fresh kicks. His casual wear can best be described as hypebeast-adjacent, elevated streetwear that doesn't contain a single item under, oh, $400? And that's just for the T-shirts. Kendall has the wardrobe of a billionaire, sure, but one who still has personal style. He's not boring. He's a cool guy who wears cool clothes—but subtly.
Four seasons into Succession, and we've seen plenty of iconic Kendall style moments, from his most dressed-up to his most dressed-down. There's the fit he wore when he was having a mental breakdown on the yacht, for instance. Then there's the fit he wore when he was having a mental breakdown at his mother's wedding. And we can't forget the fit he wore while having a mental breakdown at his own birthday party! Oh, Kendall. Maybe luxury is best paired with a panic attack? Either way—these are the very best of the best of Kendall Roy's outfits, ranked.
I love this picture of Kendall so much, it's my profile photo on Slack. Look at him—pathetic! He's brooding in solitude on his family's yacht, so naturally, he needs to brood with expensive headphones and almost-as expensive sunglasses on. The chunky headphones are definitely a major vibe, when we know this guy owns something smaller, like, say, AirPods. But he's leaning into the manic pixie dreamboy thing and going the retro route, of course. And leaving the sunglasses on adds to the sullen look, contrasting his pale pink button-down. It's giving drama!
This is one of my favorite Kendall outfits, because he just looks fucking cool. He's wearing a graphic tee by Enfants Riches Déprimés that depicts an orgy (and is now sold out everywhere). He's thrown on a sharp blazer atop it. This is Kendall at his prime, Kendall on top of the world, Kendall not saturated in very sad shades of beige or over-the-top designer fits (we'll get to those in a minute).
What does a billionaire ousted from his company wear when he's plotting a new company that's best described as "Substack meets MasterClass meets The Economist meets The New Yorker "? If he's Kendall Roy, the answer is a lot of beige, and a lot of chic, ready-to-wear designer pieces. I'm talking full Tom Ford on the torso, with Gucci sneakers that have monogramed soles. The styling here is on point: Kendall certainly knows how to layer up, if nothing else, and looks cool and casual (but not inexpensive) while doing it.
Roman may have been quipping at Kendall when he said "Nice Tom Fords," but he wasn't lying, really. They are! The suede sneakers might run you up about a band, but, hey—take a page from Kendall's book and pair them with a matching Tom Ford hoodie that costs even more. Real Buddha behavior.
What do you wear to pray on your family's downfall? If you're Kendall Roy, it's a suit-and-baseball-hat combo. In "The Disruption," an estranged Kendall stormed Waystar Royco ready to kill and wreak havoc, and he obviously had to find a balance between businesswear and incognito attire to do that. He did, too, with a Loro Piana baseball cap to match his navy suit. Casual(ish) but still cashmere, this is the baseball cap for billionaires looking to cause a disruption. Plus, he looks almost like a classic, Season 1 Kendall here: suited up, ready to make some noise. This is even better, though, because Season 1 Kendall wouldn't wear a baseball cap to work. He's edgy! He's free! And it's sure as hell reflected in his clothing choices.
Leave it to Kendall to show up to his brother's wedding in a suit way more expensive than the one the groom himself is wearing . While Connor looked elegant for under $1000, Kendall looked ready to kill in a sleek, sharp Brioni suit that costs a whopping $11,500. Yeah, you read that right. This is perhaps the most put-together Kendall's looked in years, which is ironic, considering what happens next in this episode. It's a good thing he brought his Jacques Marie Mage Zephirin sunnies—they do good at hiding tears when you find out at the wedding that your father died. Yikes.
In the season finale of Season 3, Kendall is at an all-time low. Guilt is getting to him. He spent the last few seconds of the previous episode face-down in a swimming pool, beer in hand. And when confronted with his almost-drowning, the man is in pure denial—he doesn't need an intervention! Look at the rest of the Roys! There's a lot going wrong for Ken in this episode, but one thing going absolutely right is the $25,000 gold pendant he pairs with a plain Maison Margiela T-shirt and Jacques Marie Mage sunglasses (the pendant also made an appearance in "Too Much Birthday"). He looks like a man who has lost everything, at this point, except his taste in fashion. You know things can't be that bad if Ken is still bringing out the gold chain, after all.
One thing about Kendall Roy: he's gonna go big. I'm talking, like, gets-a-custom-jacket-made-for-his-investor-day-speech kind of big. Most CEOs probably would have gone for something classic here, like, I don't know, a suit. Not Kendall, though! He wears a jacket—supposedly dreamed up by Jeremy Strong himself upon reading the script—with custom patches all over it, advertising himself as the CEO of Waystar Royco. Our man is nothing if not out there, and this is probably as close to logomania as a show like Succession will ever get.
Even though Roman joked about Kendall wearing sunglasses to Logan's funeral so that no one could see his tears...Kendall, you nailed this look, babe. Shades: on. Shoes: shiny. Collar of your sick as hell Loro Piana herringbone coat : standing tall. It takes serious swag to look this good yet this morose, but, hey—if there's a time and place to look your best, it's at your dad's star-studded funeral the day after you may or may not have inducted a fascist regime into the White House. Talk about a power look.
This was a great episode for Kendall's style, from planning his party to rehearsing for it to actually being at the birthday party. And though the birthday itself didn't go as planned—at least Kendall looked good the whole time. While rehearsing his musical number with Naomi, Kendall did not come to play, wearing head-to-toe, flashy designer: a Gucci bomber, Prada geometric turtleneck, and Gucci Ultrapace Low-Top Sneakers. Stealth wealth is nothing in the face of a man with unlimited money and a bit of birthday excitement, clearly.
If you have to confess to killing a kid at your sister's wedding, you better do it decked out in Loro Piana at your mother's wedding. For all his faults, Kendall knows how to do drama in style. He leans into the Tuscan look with a full Loro Piana suit, complete with suede moccasin loafers and a billowy linen shirt. He looks like a man on vacation! A man at a wedding! He looks a lot more chill than he feels, and is absolutely acing summer wedding style. Nothing is less than a few hundred dollars, obviously. But there's a price to pay for everything—unintentional murder's costs about as much as Loro Piana does.
Everyone remembers the iconic L to the OG performance. Even Frank Ocean does . This is quintessential Kendall: fully out-there, at a high, not giving a fuck about what anyone thinks. For better, or for worse.
One thing about Kendall Roy—he's gonna dress for the occasion. Even before his actual birthday party, Kendall was in Gucci drip (with a chain on! Iconic!) for the planning sesh with his buddies, blunt in one hand and iPad in the other (those aren't part of the outfit, but they certainly add to the aesthetic). The Billionaire Birthday Boy looked cool as hell in a green cashmere turtleneck from Gucci, which is no longer available, but a similar option is. This is, admittedly, a hard look to pull off, but Kendall Roy does it as he does very few things: with ease and elegance.
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From NYC skyscrapers to luxe Italian villas, here's your 'Succession' filming locations field guide as we get stuck into season 4
Hurrah—the Roys are back with more family drama, insane wealth, and opulent Succession filming locations! Season four of the hit HBO show is currently airing, and while we've all been pretty pre-occupied with *that* plot development in episode 3, the transatlantic series once again sees the scheming employees of Waystar Royco, and the Roy family themselves, traversing the world—from iconic New York City settings, to vast California estates.
Across the four seasons, the series has used IRL locations (only a few scenes are filmed on studio sets) to accurately flaunt the billionaire lifestyle of the Roy clan, a ruthless family tree that owns and runs one of the world’s leading media and entertainment companies. The Roys and their employees never usually stay in one place for too long, travelling the world for business deals, family events, and lavish parties. So where exactly are the main Succession filming locations across all four seasons?
If you want to step into the gilded world of Waystar yourself, here's a field guide to Succession' s filming locations—from flashing city enclaves, to country retreats.
*Warning: Spoilers for all Succession seasons (including season 4) below!*
The Roy family and their Waystar Royco media empire are based out of New York City in the show ( if you know what Succession based on , this won't come as a surprise). So naturally, the bulk of filming does actually take place in good ol' Gotham. Main filming locations include the headquarters of Waystar, which were set at the World Trade Center in seasons one and two, but moved to the 28 Liberty Street skyscraper for seasons three and four. Then, there's Logan Roy's expansive Fifth Avenue apartment, which—as fans who are caught up with season 4 will know—features heavily in episode 3.
Logan's apartment (or is it now Connor's?!) is actually filmed on a set, meaning that sadly the beautiful location doesn't exist in real life. However, the lobby of the building is real, and is filmed at the American Irish Historical Society.
We've also had multiple glimpses into Kendall's NY apartment—and the impressive penthouse is real, spanning three floors. It's located on 180 East 88th Street.
Over the four seasons, NYC production has bounced all over the boroughs, from the highbrow hotels of midtown like The Pierre and The Plaza, to the East New York Freight Tunnel in Brooklyn where Tom's bachelor party takes place. We're looking forward to seeing what other New York spots the Roys hit up next.
Season 4 of Succession kicks off with three of the four Roy siblings ( Shiv , Roman, and Kendall), masterminding a new start-up—'The Hundred'—at a palatial Los Angeles home, high up in the hills.
The property couldn't really get much slicker, with an expansive outdoor pool, all-glass walls, and a panoramic view of the city. And it turns out that the property is real; and just as expensive as you might have guessed.
This scene was filmed at a real home in Pacific Palisades, which was recently bought by a young tech billionaire for an eye-watering $83 million. With approximately 20,000 square feet of space, six bedrooms, 18 (?!) bathrooms, an outdoor sauna, and a kitchen design by Nobu, it's certainly a location fitting for the Roy family. And when it comes to Succession filming locations, it doesn't get much pricier.
And that's not the only Californian location in season 4 so far. When the Roy kids make a hurried dash to Nan Pierce's estate to close the deal on buying Pierce Global Media, in actuality, it was just a short drive to Santa Barbara, about an hour and a half from the center of Los Angeles.
It's thought that the Peabody Estate provided the setting of the fictional Pierce Estate. And interestingly, its real life owner isn't too far off its fictional owner. It's reported that the property was bought by former Google CEO Eric Schmidt for $30.8 million, in 2020.
Like Brian Cox, the actor playing him, Logan Roy was born in Dundee, Scotland, a locale we get to see for ourselves in season two when the Roy patriarch visits his birthplace to celebrate his 50th anniversary as CEO of Waystar Royco.
The UK also served as the setting for Shiv and Tom's wedding at the end of season one, which was held at her mother's family estate in England and was shot at Eastnor Castle in Herefordshire.
Although the majority of the action happens in New York City proper, the moneyed, eastern edges of New York also see some Roy shenanigans throughout the series. Oheka Castle in Huntington, NY, stood in for the Roys' Hungarian hunting lodge, the setting of the infamous "Boar on the Floor" scene from season two.
Fans got to see Logan Roy's Hamptons home in the beginning of season two. The actual home is the 1960 Henry Ford Estate in Mecox Bay, Southampton, chosen to signify Logan's "new money" sensibilities, reports Vulture . The show's production designer Stephen Carter told the outlet: “Given the age of the character, he would have been forming his impressions of what trendy style would be in the sixties.”
Season two opened in the Land of Fire and Ice, where Kendall Roy was holed up in a swanky rehab clinic following the tragic accident that took place at the end of the first season.
Speaking to Filmmaker magazine, Carter said of the Icelandic setting: "With about a week to go, we were locationless, which was a little bit scary. I’d been a big fan of Black Mirror and remembered a house I’d seen on an episode, which I knew was in Iceland. It happened to be available, and we jumped all over that. It was a fantastically stark location."
The season one episode "Austerlitz" sees the whole Roy clan head to Connor Roy's sprawling New Mexico estate for a publicized family therapy session. Playing the part of the southwestern home is Rancho Alegre, a Santa Fe private house/museum with panoramic views of the Ortiz and Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
The Succession New Mexico ranch has 11 bedrooms, a wine cellar, a media room, and is sat on 190 acres—and amazingly, you can actually stay there yourself (if you've got the cash, of course). The home can be booked for private stays—with seven nights minimum booking preferred), or private events.
The finale of season two sees the Roy family and their closest Waystar cohorts lounging and backstabbing on an 85-meter super-yacht off the coast of Croatia.
Filming took place in the picturesque shores of Cavtat, Korčula, Mljet and Šipan, aboard the rather majestic super-yacht SOLANDGE, which measures in at a whopping 279ft and has accommodation for up to 12 guests.
While the Succession season 2 finale capped in Croatia, season three finished off in typically glam fashion in Tuscany. One of the most stunning Succession locations so far, Villa Cetinale, a 17th-century villa and gardens in Sovicille, served as the wedding location of Caroline Collingwood, Shiv, Kendall, and Roman's mother.
Plenty of other scenes were filmed across the region too, with the Italian filming locations in season three including Villa La Cassinella in Lake Como, which serves as the backdrop for GoJo founder Lukas Matsson's home, while a tense discussion between Shiv and husband Tom Wambsgans took place in the the hamlet and village of Bagno Vignoni, located in the commune of San Quirico d'Orcia.
Finally, Caroline's bachelor party, which sees her and Shiv partake in an awkward heart-to-heart, was filmed in the town of Cortona, in the Arezzo province.
Season 4 of Succession is currently airing on HBO in the US and Sky Atlantic and NOW in the UK. Want to watch shows like Succession once the series comes to an end? Look no further than our guide.
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Den of Geek
Kendall shows why you shouldn't kick a man while he's down in the incredible Succession Season 2 finale.
Obscenely rich and richly obscene, the Roy family of HBO’s darkly comedic family drama Succession is back for Season 2, and more deplorable than ever. Why do we love watching awful people behave badly on television? If you encountered a family as awful as the Roys live in person, you’d be appalled by their sniping, vulgarity, and general lack of regard for anything other than their massive egos and bank accounts, but somehow this band of contemptable buffoons has us enthralled. It’s the guiltiest of TV pleasures, like bingeing on ortolan every Sunday night.
After a failed coup, a Chappaquiddick-like incident, and an ill-advised marriage, the Roys enter Succession Season 2 more strained, yet dependent on one another to stave off the slings and arrows of their many powerful adversaries. Follow along with Den of Geek this season as we chart who’s leading the line of succession, determine who’s behaving the worst, and sing the praises of the series’ one pure soul, Cousin Greg.
This is the Keeping Up With the Roys for Succession Season 2 Episode 10: This is Not For Tears.
Kendall is like a circus lion. He proved in Season One that he could be very dangerous, but after his Chappaquiddick-incident, he’s been subservient, feeding off scraps, forced to jump through hoops and take whatever abuse his master, in this case Logan, dishes out. But just like a circus lion, if you push him past his breaking point, embarrass and kick him too many times, that beast is going to snap and maul you. That’s what happened at the end of “This is Not For Tears.” With a sea of microphones and cameras in front of him, Kendall throws Logan under the bus for the cruises scandal after previously agreeing to be the fall guy. It’s Logan’s own fault; after accepting that he would be thrown to the wolves, Kendall point blank asks his father whether or not he was ever going to be chosen as CEO. For once, Logan gives a straight answer and says no, chalking it up to Kendall not being a killer (despite him, you know, actually being a literal killer). Kendall then promptly makes Logan pay for that observation, but is this secretly what he wanted the entire time? Logan begins the episode getting clear instructions that he’s going to have to take the bullet to appease the board members, and ends the episode smiling at Kendall’s play.
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Perhaps this was some master manipulation. Instead of choosing his heir, Logan put all of his kids in the position to grab it: Roman had the opportunity to secure private money, and despite doing well and coming away with a potential deal in place, his own indecision and fear of failure, no matter how rightful it is, gets in his way and Shiv proves she’s human by refusing to let her father destroy her husband’s job and reputation. Kendall is the only one who goes in for the kill. After a season serving as a human punching bag, Kendall scores a K.O.
The Death Cruise is just excruciating for all parties involved. Sure, you’re floating on a luxury yacht in the Mediterranean, complete with a full staff, jet skis, and a goddamn water slide, but you’re also sitting around waiting to see which one of your family members or co-workers is going to be sacrificed for the good of the company. Not a scenario conducive for rest and relaxation. However, it certainly makes for great TV. There was a part of me that hoped the boat would capsize and the entire cast would be stranded on a desert island, turning Succession into a Survivor meets Lord of the Flies situation. A boy can dream.
Anyway, the yacht vacation is perhaps the worst for Shiv, who tries to set up a threesome scenario to help ease Tom’s feelings regarding their open marriage situation, which only exacerbates things further. It doesn’t help that in a round of Who Should Fall on the Sword, Shiv does nothing to defend Tom and even suggests that he’d be a prime candidate to take the heat. It’s only after Tom hints at wanting a divorce that Shiv very calmly asks her father to spare Tom, but there’s a good chance that the damage has already been done. Shiv has spent the entire season compromising her personal beliefs and jeopardizing her relationship in pursuit of a job that she was probably never going to receive. She finally shows a heart and not only is it likely too late, it probably cost her the CEO position too.
Roman returns from his intense hostage hotel situation a changed man. He’s not quippy or comparing Kendall to a coked-out Transformer or whatever. He’s handing out genuine compliments and asking his siblings if they can have honest conversations about their feelings without draping everything in ten coats of irony or vitriol, and he’s immediately mocked for it. Despite the scary circumstances, Roman actually did well in his effort to secure private funds, it’s just that he’s now not so sure if these are the people his family should be doing business with. Roman has genuine concerns, but he also knows that if this foreign backer backs out at the last moment, the family will lose the company and it will all be his fault. That’s a risk Roman is not willing to take. He spends the entirety of the cruise in a funk, at least until it comes time to nominate someone to throw under the bus, where he takes great pleasure in trying to rid of perpetual adversary Frank and dunking on Tom and Greg. He passionately defends Gerri, even coming up with a good reason to spare her other than mentioning his weird little degradation fantasy. Before Kendall goes nuclear, he’s even named as the next COO of Waystar, but the reality of that promotion sets in quickly and Roman looks to be overwhelmed. I’m sure Kendall’s big move will reignite a fire in our favorite rich sociopath.
Connor is so delighted to be a meme, but that’s really the only good thing he’s got going for him. Willa’s play is an absolute train wreck, getting savaged by critics and if Connor’s going to recoup the losses and keep his Presidential campaign alive, he’s going to need oh, a measly $100 million from dear old dad to keep the lights on. Some good reviews for Willa’s play from some of Logan’s papers would be nice too. Logan can’t help on the sham review front, but he agrees to help his son with cash, but only if Connor agrees to end his campaign immediately. The Con-Heads will be crushed, but not as crushed as Connor hearing his dad call him a joke and an embarrassment. Connor is such a joke that his dad doesn’t even consider him good enough to take the fall for the cruise scandal despite the fact that Connor is volunteering. Connor taking the fall would mean admitting that the eldest Roy child was pulling strings behind the scenes at Waystar for years, and come on, no one is going to believe that.
Tom wambsgans.
Sorry Tom, but no matter how hard you try to make the point, no one is going to believe that you were “dead catting.” That’s not a thing. But, you certainly didn’t act like a dead cat while on the yacht from hell! Tom finally stands up for himself, telling Shiv that he’s unhappy with their marriage, how the fact that she proposed an open marriage on their wedding night was complete bullshit, and that maybe the unhappy that he would be without Shiv might be less than the unhappy that he is with her. Our guy found a spine! He then proceeds to take his new spine and eat Logan’s chicken right off his plate, which may have been the episode’s funniest moment. Tom probably was the most logical choice to take the fall for the cruise scandal, but after kissing Logan’s boots and doing everything the company asked of him, eating shit from Congress and the Pierce family alike, it would have been brutal if Logan took advantage of his loyalty. Tom’s marriage may be in shambles, but he’s still on the Waystar corporate ladder. You win some, you lose some.
GREGORY’S GOT THE RECEIPTS! The prospect of Greg being used as sprinkles on a Tom sundae to serve up to congress was entirely heartbreaking. Greg had just gotten used to the sweet life. He has champagne preferences! Giant yachts don’t impress him that much! After surrendering his inheritance, the Roys using him as a scapegoat would have been a tragic conclusion to our sweet boy’s story. However, Greg gets pulled into Kendall’s plan to usurp his father, using the documents he rescued from Tom to help seal Logan’s fate. Turns out my boy is way more than a benign fungus! GREG THE MUH FUCKIN’ EGG!
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Nick Harley is a tortured Cleveland sports fan, thinks Douglas Sirk would have made a killer Batman movie, Spider-Man should be a big-budget HBO series, and Wes Anderson and Paul Thomas Anderson should direct a script written by one another. For more thoughts like these, read Nick’s work here at Den of Geek or follow him on Twitter .
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Nick Harley is an entertainment journalist and alumnus of Ohio University's E.W. Scripps School of Journalism. Nick also works as a Senior Content Specialist for the…
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Strong reflected on Kendall Roy’s place in his life and in the culture. “Kendall is seen as a try-hard,” he said. “I guess that’s become something to judge or deride.”
By Alexis Soloski
When filming on the final season of “Succession” wrapped this winter, the actor Jeremy Strong flew to the Danish fishing village where he and his wife have a home. Alone, he went for a walk on the beach.
“I watched the sunset and tried to say goodbye to a character I’m sure will always be with me, will always be part of me,” he said.
For Strong, who began filming the HBO drama seven years ago and won an Emmy for playing Kendall Roy, this was a happy ending. An actor of unusual commitment, he works to give himself over to a role entirely. And with Kendall, the wounded son of Logan Roy (Brian Cox), a brutally successful media mogul, he felt that he had.
But for the character, “Succession,” created by Jesse Armstrong, concluded on bleaker terms. Kendall began Sunday night’s finale episode believing that he would emerge as the chief executive of a giant conglomerate. But the final scene, which also took place at the water’s edge, also at sunset, left Kendall numb, friendless, bereft.
“Somebody once said that actors are emotional athletes,” Strong said on Monday. “And this show has been like a decathlon for me.”
He has since recovered. And from a flashy Manhattan hotel room, Strong, dressed in a very un-Kendall trucker hat, T-shirt and chain and possessed of some very un-Kendall-like equanimity, joined a video call to discuss tragedy, vulnerability and sad Kendall memes. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.
Should Kendall have been made the chief executive?
He certainly was equipped. I watched it last night and wanted so desperately for it to unfold differently. Do I think he would have been good for the company and the country? I mean, we’ve seen him cross every moral and ethical line. He’s demonstrated a ruthless pragmatism. He’s become what his father wanted, which is being able to dominate and having the moral callousness and flexibility to do whatever it takes. I feel like he’s ready to become the C.E.O., in the tragic math of that.
Was his great tragedy being Logan Roy’s son? Would it have been better if he had been able to forge his own path?
In a way, that’s all of the Roys’ tragedies, that they were born into this. Jesse and I created this memory of a moment where my father said, “It will be you one day, you’ll have the job that I have.” It is like a death sentence to give a 7-year-old that promise. It puts Kendall on this trajectory, never with a sense of having earned it himself.
These characters have all the trappings of power, but nothing in their lives or upbringing installed in them any sense of personal power. If anything, their father and mother took that away from them and left them feeling powerless, which explains this need for Kendall to overcompensate and try too hard and overshoot the mark. He needs this to happen for his life to be OK, or to make any sense. And I found it just unbearably excruciating, the way that it then goes. He’s lost his moral compass. He’s lost his integrity. He’s lost everything. My seven years of working on this have been the slow inexorable death of Kendall Roy.
Is that what the final scene at the edge of the river suggests?
We happened to shoot that scene in Battery Park back in February. I’ve never been so cold in my life. What was happening was like the ninth circle of hell, which is frozen. I couldn’t feel anything. I did try and go in the water. We’ve seen Kendall lose again and again and again, but this feels catastrophic.
I don’t think there’s any coming back from it. Jesse felt like once he can get past this moment, maybe there is a future for him. I felt a loss of all hope. So I got up and climbed over that barrier and walked out onto the pilings. The actor playing Colin [Kendall’s bodyguard, played by Scott Nicholson] ran and stopped me. I don’t know if Kendall wanted to die or if he wanted to be saved.
Water has always held such significance for Kendall.
He’s always in a place where he might lift off out of it, or he might be submerged and drown in it. He’s treading water for his life.
Kendall is the favored son of a very powerful man. Why has he always seen himself as an underdog, an outsider?
I know a lot of people who come from extreme privilege and who have not internalized some commensurate sense of self that you’d think would accompany that. This character has never been comfortable in his own skin. That unease and that lack has been part of his addiction and his ambition.
The finale also included some Barbados-set scenes, which emphasized the bonds and affection among the younger Roy siblings. How did you and the other actors work to feel like a family?
It’s just the amount of road we’ve traveled, 40 hours of story over seven years. The relationship we all have with each other — it’s easy to access all sides of it. There’s deep love and affection and connectedness and then also, friction and enmity. All of it. I love those people. The writing usually demanded that we meet in a place of discord and enmity, but I loved the times where we got to put our dukes down and enjoy each other’s company. That was the last scene we filmed in the whole series, the “meal fit for a king.” It was a really wonderful way to finish.
And you drank that “meal fit for a king” smoothie?
Yes, I had to. For me, if I don’t drink that smoothie, I am not invested enough in how much Kendall wants to be C.E.O. He has to drink it, ergo I have to drink it, otherwise the whole thing is just a performance. So I would drink it and go outside and retch and jump in the ocean and go back for another take. We only needed to do a few, thankfully.
People often confuse actors with their characters. What were the points of convergence between you and Kendall and which were the differences?
I have had a singularity of wanting similar to Kendall; I’ve always only wanted to be an actor. I feel pretty strongly that I am a cog built to fit one particular machine: My life only makes sense to me if I’m doing this work. As opposed to Kendall, I’ve gotten to do that.
But I understood the stakes of what that is for him. I can’t really imagine, had I not gotten the chance to practice and do this work, how unlived my life would feel. Kendall is seen as a try-hard. I guess that’s become something to judge or deride, but I’ve always had to try hard and work hard. I think there’s value in that, and I wouldn’t have known how to do it any other way.
The differences, though, are many. I’ve got three little kids and most of my life is just reading “Room on the Broom” and being a dad and a husband and a friend, just an entirely non-Kendall existence.
Kendall quickly became a fan favorite and inspired a torrent of memes — sad Kendall , babygirl Kendall . Did fans misunderstand the character?
I’ve managed to avoid all that because I’m really not online and I’m not on social media. I see people walking around with tote bags and T-shirts now and it’s wild, the way people project all kinds of things onto the character. The character is a bit of a litmus test. Some people use the word “cringe,” and then others find him incredibly sympathetic. Do I think any of that’s misunderstood? I don’t know. There’s something about this character, about this kind of boy-man — there is a lot of male vulnerability, which is something that always affected me growing up when I saw it in storytelling. In this moment in our culture, people either respond to that in a derisive way or in an empathic way. It’s not my job to tell anyone how to respond to it, but there is something about vulnerability that is polarizing.
You’ve said that your goal as an artist is to leave everything on the field. Did you do that here?
Yeah, I did. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. A friend of mine texted me, saying, you may as well move out to the desert and die.
That’s a funny way of saying congratulations.
This once in my life and hopefully, many more times — I want to do this until I die — I felt fully expressed through a piece of work.
Did you do anything to say goodbye to this character and this world? Any ritual?
This has been obviously a monolithic experience for me in so many ways, as an artist and as a person. I had three children while doing this show, it changed my life in so many ways. The ritual, I guess, was just investing utterly. When it was happening, it was all that mattered in the world for me. When it’s over, it’s really gone. I gave as much as I could give to this, but I can’t hold on to it, I can’t possess it. I don’t feel like it belongs to me.
Alexis Soloski has written for The Times since 2006. As a culture reporter, she covers television, theater, movies, podcasts and new media. More about Alexis Soloski
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HBO’s ‘ Succession ‘ heavily focuses on Kendall Roy as it explores the power struggle among the Roy family. Throughout his quest to challenge his father’s authority and erase his past sins, Kendall is constantly associated with the recurring motif of water in the series. The water scenes come at crucial moments in Kendall’s story, particularly ones that highlight his inability to change. As a result of Kendall’s constant and recurring connection with water, viewers must be looking to understand the subtle nuance behind the scenes. SPOILERS AHEAD!
‘Succession’ is a complex story of power accentuated by trauma that explores the lives of the Roy family members. Among them, the story of Kendall has a particularly Shakespearean nature as it is closely associated with the common literary motif of water. However, a lot of Kendall’s storyline deals with him wrestling his personal demons, including his substance abuse issue and relationship with his father, Logan Roy. The water symbolism seemingly combines both aspects to highlight Kendall’s state .
In the series, the motif first occurs evidently shortly after Kendall gets into a car accident. In the season 1 finale, titled ‘Nobody Is Ever Missing,’ Kendall does drugs with a waiter at a wedding. The two drive off searching for cocaine but almost run into a deer. However, Kendall swerves the car, and it lands in the water. In the accident, the waiter is killed, and Kendall flees the scene. The accident coincides with Kendall’s earlier attempt to challenge his father’s authority. Ultimately, Kendall is forced to turn to Logan for help, getting away with the waiter’s death. However, the waiter’s death and his involvement in the accident continue to affect Kendall.
Over the show’s four seasons, there are several instances of Kendall completely or partially drowning in water, which metaphorically represents his state of mind. In different cultures, water symbolizes purity and rebirth. Thus, the most obvious implication of Kendall’s water motif is his attempt to erase his past sins, including the waiter’s death. In the second and third seasons, these attempts become particularly evident as Kendall attempts to portray his virtuous side, marking his attempt at rebirth. However, Kendall’s attempts fail miserably, leading him back to his submerged state, as seen after his birthday party in season.
An alternative interpretation of Kendall’s recurring motif suggests the water represents Kendall’s relationship with Logan. After the waiter’s death, Kendall is inadvertently forced to be under his father’s thumb, as we see in the second season premiere. The water seems to be the weight of Logan’s expectations for his son. Moreover, it could also display Kendall’s desire to reinvent himself outside his father’s shadow or be free-flowing like the water. However, Kendall cannot achieve either state, resulting in the constant depiction of him in submerged poses.
The seventh episode of the final season, titled ‘Living+,’ seems to support the latter interpretation of the water motif. In the episode, Kendall champions the Lving+ housing and creates an inventive pitch for it during the launch event. Since the project was Logan’s last before his untimely death, it holds great significance for Kendall and the company. While everyone expects Kendall to crack under pressure, he succeeds in creating positive buzz about the project. Later, we see Kendall swim in the sea during the episode’s final moments. As Kendall freely swims in the water, it could mean he is finally free from Logan’s control over him and the weight of his father’s expectations.
The first interpretation of Kendall’s recurring motif could also be connected to the final scene of episode 7, as it could signify Kendall finally succeeding at his attempted rebirth. Although it is hard to argue how Kendall proving himself capable of carrying Logan’s legacy could erase his past sins, it is easy to see Kendall’s achievement in the episode as he finds himself worthy despite his mistake. Ultimately, the heart of Kendall’s character arc resides in the tragedy he is, and defining his recurring motif with a singular interpretation dilutes the Shakespearean nature of the show’s complex and nuanced storytelling elements.
Read More: Logan Roy’s Net Woerth in Succession
Roy, oh roy: that 'succession' finale was a trip.
Linda Holmes
Jeremy Strong as Kendall Roy and Brian Cox as Logan Roy in the season finale of HBO's Succession . Graeme Hunter/HBO hide caption
Jeremy Strong as Kendall Roy and Brian Cox as Logan Roy in the season finale of HBO's Succession .
It is hopefully clear that a review and discussion of the Succession season two finale is not suitable for people who do not want to be spoiled regarding the Succession season two finale. If it is not clear: You will know what happened on this episode by the time you're finished reading this piece. Choose wisely.
We began this season of Succession with Kendall Roy half-submerged in what was supposed to be a relaxing spa soak but was more like a very wet metaphor. And he didn't get his head above water until the last 30 seconds of the second-season finale.
There were times when this season looked like it might be about Kendall's sister, Shiv (Sarah Snook) — her father, Logan (Brian Cox), dangled the "top job" at the company, as he calls it, in front of her face, then refused to give it to her. Shiv's restlessness seemed like perhaps it was the biggest threat to Logan.
There were times when it seemed like it might be about Kendall smoothly transitioning into being his father's traumatized but functional right hand. After ending last season in the weakest possible position , needing to be rescued from the father he had been trying to overthrow, Kendall became unfailingly loyal. When he put on a good performance at the congressional hearings, it suggested we could be headed for a conclusion where Kendall finally became his father's favorite — something he wants so desperately that it drips from Jeremy Strong's performance almost as much as sweat so often seems to.
But no. No, Logan decided it was time for a "blood sacrifice," as he put it — someone who could be thrown to the wolves and blamed for the devastating revelations about Waystar Royco's cruise division. Someone who would satisfy the shareholders that the problem was being taken seriously; someone who would give those shareholders, as one told Logan on the phone, "cover." So Logan gathered the family and the top lieutenants — Kendall, Shiv and Tom, Roman (Kieran Culkin), even Greg — on the Roy yacht and watched each one try to respectfully, gently argue that the person sacrificed should emphatically not be them, no offense to whomever they suggested it should be.
The obvious answer was Tom (Matthew Macfadyen), Shiv's husband. He had been in charge of cruises; he had a logical connection to the crimes committed, even if they predated his leadership. After all, one of the things someone needed to take responsibility for was the cover-up, and Tom carried out key elements of the cover-up. He wouldn't even have been just a figurehead. Tom had the advantage of being both largely expendable to the family and actually guilty , not that they would care. Particularly if they threw in poor dopey cousin Greg, Tom's assistant, they thought maybe that would be enough.
Sarah Snook brought out Shiv's shocking shrug-it-off energy in the scene — let's just call it the Roy Family Murder Breakfast — in which she seemed to agree with the group that the blood sacrifice should be Tom. Her husband! Her own husband! Sure, why not? Tom was kinda like family, she explained, without actually being family. Which you can translate as "he's close enough for the shareholders to think it really means something for us to hand him over to be sacrificed, when in fact, eh ."
But it was not to be Tom, because once he and Shiv were in private and he made clear how devastated he was by her betrayal — and once that opened other wounds in their marriage to the point where he questioned its status as a going concern — Shiv shifted gears. She went to her father and said it could not be Tom. By then, it appeared that it was likely to be either Tom or Kendall who would suffer, and Shiv took the coward's way out: She chose while refusing to choose, saying she couldn't make the decision ... but it couldn't be Tom. (The degree to which Shiv truly loves Tom has always been an intriguing element of their marriage. Her saving him is a data point, but so was her initially being prepared not to.)
'succession': back to the pit of vipers for another season of discontent.
And so Logan chose Kendall to be sacrificed, breaking the news gently — or what passes for gently in a man whose idea of bedside manner would be leaving you one-third of your ice chips while you're in the hospital and he's at your bedside feeling thirsty. Kendall would have to make a statement that he had known about the misconduct in the cruise division, he had engineered the cover-up, he had done it all, and in Logan's words, it had gone "no higher." Kendall would sacrifice himself to save his father, and ultimately to save the company.
So when did Kendall decide ... not to? When did Kendall decide that instead of falling on his sword, he would stroll into that press conference, whip out a set of note cards and call his father "a malignant presence, a bully and a liar"? When did he decide that even knowing his father could ruin him with the story of the waiter who died after Kendall drove off a bridge, it was over? When did he decide that instead of reciting "I saw their plan; my dad's plan was better" over and over as he did in the first episode of this season, and instead of saying "my dad told me to" the way he did when he destroyed Vaulter, he would not only sacrifice his father as the mover behind the cruises debacle but reveal his father's deceitful, vicious personality?
My money is on the moment in which, referring to the death of the waiter, Logan repeated an abbreviation that came out of the cruise division, used when a migrant worker or a sex worker died on a ship: NRPI. No Real Person Involved . It is shorthand, really, for the idea that only some people matter.
Logan believes in NRPI. Roman believes in it. Shiv just NRPI'd her own husband until he specifically asked her not to. But Kendall is, perhaps ironically given the protection he accepted from his father, not an NRPI kind of person. He agonized over that accident. He hated himself for shutting down Vaulter — an act he proved he could carry out in an NRPI-style manner, provided he didn't pay too much attention to feeling his skin go gray and clammy.
Kendall had already been reminded during the trip that his father doesn't care about his feelings: Logan had forced Kendall to send his girlfriend away in the middle of the trip, a fresh humiliation that increased Kendall's isolation. Things built up. Logan's callous conducting of the Family Murder Breakfast and his announcement that he needed a "skull to wave" showed Kendall how ready his father was to throw away his kids, not to mention faithful lieutenants like Gerri (J. Smith-Cameron), Karl (David Rasche) and Frank (Peter Friedman).
When Logan told Kendall that his was the skull that would be waved, a resigned Kendall asked him a question. Had Logan ever believed that Kendall could do the top job? After the profound cruelty of acting like he'd never really thought about it, Logan came around to an answer: "You're not a killer," he said. "You have to be a killer." Jeremy Strong's performance in this critical scene with Cox looks very different on second viewing. What originally played as agonized resignation to his situation and an understanding that he'd have to be the skull, as it were, looks now like agonized resignation to the fact that he will never have his father's love and approval this way. He'll never get there by trying to be good and loyal and perfect; that's what he was doing all season, and he's still the skull. This family only respects killers. Not the kind who accidentally cause the deaths of waiters, either. Only the kind who kill with ice-cold calculation.
So that's what Kendall did.
Because Kendall, after learning the bad news, wound up on a plane back home with Greg (Nicholas Braun). This was extraordinarily bad luck for Logan, who had no way of knowing Greg had first saved some of the troublesome records Tom told him to get rid of. He had no way of knowing that when Tom found out and insisted on burning what was left, Greg once again reserved a few in case he ever needed them. Greg spent this entire season being Chekhov's knucklehead, and ultimately, like all the things metaphorically rendered unto Chekhov, he mattered a great deal.
In order to preserve the suspense of the ending, in order to create the gasp when Kendall goes to the press conference and says "BUT" between what sounds like it will be an admission of guilt and what becomes a blast of accusations against his father, we didn't see what happened on the plane home. We saw Greg gently tell Kendall he felt bad that Kendall had to be the blood sacrifice. And we've seen a friendship growing between Greg and Kendall, the only family member who's ever shown the kid any kindness.
Presumably, at some point during that flight, they talked. Greg revealed that he was holding on to the evidence Kendall needed to make accusations against Logan stick. Or Kendall opened up about being unable to get his father's love. Or both. The key to Kendall's ability to finally carry out the fully public attack on his father that's been brewing since season one episode one, the key to Kendall's escape from his father's "protection" that's been brewing since season two episode one? It turned out to be Greg. Greg, who saved his secret papers in a folder labeled "SECRET."
Holly hunter on hbo's 'succession,' she plays rhea jarrell.
This was a season that was enjoyable to watch as it proceeded but that looks far more impressive in light of the finale. It looked at times like they had flattened Kendall's affect too much; perhaps he was too much changed by the accident after Shiv's wedding, too devastated and defanged to maintain the powerful dynamic between himself and his father that drove the first season. The character of Rhea Jarrell never entirely jelled, despite the reliable presence of Holly Hunter. The strange sexual connection between Roman and Gerri was picked up and put down a little abruptly, although the notion that they share some sort of bond flared during the Family Murder Breakfast when Roman rose to her defense. Shiv's waffling about whether she was really prepared to do battle with her father — spoiler alert: She was not — makes more sense as a prelude to her weakness in the finale. It is Shiv, perhaps, who is not a killer.
And now, Kendall's dead eyes all season make narrative sense. The story was going here , to this place where the torment and the misery accumulated, to where Kendall was willing to blow up his family because it was better than all the other choices. Even the embarrassing tribute rap at Logan's party is now, in context, just one of the last gasps of his desperate attempt to earn his father's approval. Now, that rap is just more evidence that Kendall may have looked cold in the old peepers, but in fact he was doing everything he could think of. He played a relatively non-flashy role in the now-infamous "Boar on the Floor" sequence in the episode "Hunting," precisely because he was keeping out of as much of the drama as he could. In fact, his role in "Hunting" and at several other points during the season was to do his father's dirty work without complaint — to inform, to obey, to expose. He was the good son.
The last bit of business to deal with is Logan's tiny hint of a smile as he watches his son accuse him of being a monster. Is he a little impressed that Kendall is more of a killer than he thought? Does he enjoy a fight? Did he somehow intend for this to happen, so that he himself would wind up being the skull and the company would live on? (That last theory was raised with me by a reader on Twitter, and I must say: I hadn't thought of it, but I don't think Logan would gamble that hard with his company.)
My vote is for some combination of all of it. Logan doesn't mind a fight, and he hates weakness even more than aggressive attack. Some part of him only respects people who come for him. That's not to say he won't attempt to crush them like bugs as I can only assume he will do with Kendall.
There are so many lessons to take away from this episode: It is futile to seek an immoral person's approval if you're not prepared to be immoral yourself. Even if your husband is a goober, you're going to feel bad if you offer to let your father destroy him. When you burn a clutch of secret papers, make sure you see them all go. Don't alienate the tall oddball; you never know what secrets he may be hiding.
And finally: If someone writes you a rap, at least try to look grateful.
Succession season 3 episode 8 ending explained: is [spoiler] actually dead.
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Warning: Spoilers ahead for Succession season 3, episode 8!
The ending of Succession season 3, episode 8, “Chiantishire,” marked one of the show’s first momentous cliffhangers, leaving off with the possibility of the unthinkable death by drowning of Kendall Roy. So far, Succession has avoided the tropes of killing off major characters to introduce major twists and shock-factor surprises, but the final moments of “Chiantishire” may suggest otherwise. Succession isn’t in the business of ordering literal life-ending hits on enemies like in HBO’s Game of Thrones or The Sopranos ; the show’s hits are exclusively business-based, but Kendall’s possible death by suicide, as shocking as it is, wouldn’t actually betray Succession ’s version of corporate America’s cut-throat brutality.
Succession season 3’s penultimate episode takes the Roy family to Italy in dreaded anticipation of their mother Caroline’s wedding to the status-climbing Peter Munion. All Roys, cousin Greg included, are in attendance, and the family is in disarray even before the nuptial procession has begun. Roman leaves to meet with Lukas Mattson about a possible dissolution of the GoJo deal, later saving their partnership as a faux “ equal merge ” with the tech mogul. Shiv, meanwhile, is gaslighting Tom about their relationship, Nicholas Braun's cousin Greg is attempting to flirt with an Italian contessa, and Connor proposes to Willa without a definite response. While these make for interesting side-bits in the episode, the crux of Succession ’s drama is focused on Logan refusing to let Kendall cash out and leave the company and the lewd photo between Roman and his psychosexual mentor Gerri.
Related: Succession Is The Last Show Of The Breaking Bad Era
The final minutes of Succession season 3’s episode are some of the most tumultuous that the series has ever seen and could change the landscape of HBO’s show forever. In a crucial meeting between Waystar Royco and GoJo, Roman gets a text from Gerri congratulating him for saving the deal. Even though Gerri had just ended her relationship with Roman and their sexting, the young Roy decides to say “ thank you ” by sending a lewd photo in the meeting, only it’s mistakenly sent to Logan. While Logan repulsively berates Roman for being a “ sicko ” and considers firing Gerri, Succession pans back to Kendall lounging in the pool with his kids. When his kids go inside, Kendall is seen dropping his beer in the water and keeping his face under the surface for a prolonged time, with the episode ending on a possible indication of his death. Succession season 3 episode 8’s ending marks a change in scenery for every Roy family member, indicating a profound turning point in the roles and dynamics of Kendall, Roman, and Shiv.
Although Succession ’s season 3 Kendall cliffhanger suggests the series unthinkably killed of its most tragic character, all other signs point to Kendall still being alive. Succession has been building Kendall’s existential dread, depression, and suicidal tendencies throughout season 3, which is why it’s actually believable that Kendall could have died by drowning himself. After turning against his family, Kendall has positioned himself as the Roy martyr that truly indicates his death could soon conclude his character arc. Although Kendall has been lauded as the family’s screw-up for years before the series even began, nothing has haunted his character more than causing the death of a young waiter in Succession ’s season 1 finale . Kendall and Logan reconnect as the elder Roy covers up his son’s crimes, but he doesn’t let Kendall forget about it - as if Kendall could ever forget about it.
In season 3’s “Chiantishire,” Kendall invites Logan to the home he’s staying at, one that Logan thinks may be arranged as a way to poison him. Kendall proposes that Logan allow him to cash out on his shares for $2 billion with no shareholding or board position at the company, simply allowing him control over small assets like podcasting. Logan adamantly refuses and uses the knowledge of Kendall killing the waiter as leverage for why he can’t leave and why Kendall is no worse a man than himself. Knowing he lost, Jeremy Strong's character is next seen in the pool with his children lounging outside, though they soon both move inside. Kendall is left outside in the pool alone, drunk on a floatie as he sits with the ghost of the worst day of his life. Kendall dips his head underwater, watches his beer bottle slowly float to the bottom, and begins letting air out as he stares down. It’s a morbid moment that seems to suggest Kendall has taken his own life. Still, with all that has been revealed in Succession season 3, episode 8, it’s more likely a situation where Kendall is just recreating the circumstances of the waiter’s death. Logan remarks at their dinner that it had to have only been a few minutes of the waiter being left underwater before he died, and Kendall ran away . The final moment of this episode seems to be Kendall recreating this moment for himself - feeling what the waiter felt as he was left abandoned to die underwater.
While this episode most likely doesn’t signal Kendall actually dying, his actions so forth in season 3 indicate the Roy sibling would still rather be dead, especially now that his options for leaving the company seem slim. Jeremy Strong’s recent Succession profile (via The New Yorker ) published the same day as the possible death of Kendall on the series coincidentally seemed to hint that this is the end of his time on Succession . Paired with the article and the fact that Kendall was cleverly excluded from any of the promo clips for Succession season 3’s finale episode, the possibility of his death seems more plausible. But, it’s tough to believe this is how Kendall goes out.
Related: Succession Season 3: What Josh Meeting Stewy Means For The Roys
After being told by Comfry that ex- Globe reporters are starting a podcast on the “ curse of the Roys, ” ala the Kennedy curse, Succession sets up Kendall’s story to conclude by exposing the details of his involvement in the waiter’s death on the podcast. It’s no coincidence that the podcasters are comparing the Roys to the Kennedys, especially since Kendall’s involvement in the waiter’s death is eerily reminiscent of Ted Kennedy’s infamous Chappaquiddick incident in which his negligence led to his 28-year-old passenger drowning in the car. Kendall’s story seems to be coming to a close, but drowning himself in a pool with his children nearby won’t be the way Kendall tragically dies in Succession .
While Kendall’s death would still be the most surprising moment of Succession ’s episode, Roman’s lewd photo fiasco is a very close second. Roman and Gerri were in the safest places they’ve been in yet, and the photo has just compromised their entire partnership. Gerri will want to maintain her position, which means she’s likely going to have to turn on Roman, especially with Shiv pressuring her to flip to secure her own CEO title. Roman was in the most secure position out of the three Roy children (Connor isn’t even a question) to take over, with Logan continually undermining Shiv and having no trust in Kendall. The inappropriate picture could cost Roman this allocation, even though he just helped secure one of Waystar Royco’s most important acquisitions to date. The problem for Roman after Succession season 3 is the sexual harassment allegations that will come up from Shiv taking advantage of the situation. Considering Gerri had just told Roman to stop, this is a clear-cut case of sexual harassment.
This would typically be a situation that Logan could help get Roman out of in a second, just as he had with Kendall and the waiter, but this so happens to be following the most significant controversy in Royco’s history dealing with a pattern of sexual harassment. Logan is in the middle of paying off the DOJ to quiet the sexual harassment controversies, but with Roman, one of the top executives at the company, possibly being exposed for the same behavior, it suggests his CEO bid could be thrown away. At the same time, Gerri will use this as leverage for herself. She immediately turned on her lawyer persona once Shiv began questioning her. While the Gerri situation will be Logan’s most difficult task in protecting his children and the family name, Logan will undoubtedly find a way to keep Roman safe. His first reaction to the picture was that Roman was a “ sicko, ” and he wanted to fire Gerri, not that Roman was out. Kendall killed someone and was still in the running for CEO. Logan will find a way to cover it up like he always has; he just has to ensure it doesn’t screw them out of the GoJo deal.
While Shiv was initially under the mindset that she was going to become CEO, Succession keeps suggesting she’s not tactically sly or brutal enough for the position. Logan, Roman, Kendall, and Gerri are playing chess in relation to their positions and how to screw over their opponents. They’re always one step ahead while waiting for their enemies to take themselves out before they jump on the offense. Succession having Shiv immediately betray Roman and use the lewd photo fiasco to bring down both her brother and Gerri seems desperate, and it's a move that Logan could see right through. Logan asks Shiv if this has happened before, and she says it’s a pattern and a problem, which is clearly just Shiv trying to regain her favoritism with Logan over Roman, who has most recently held the top spot during the GoJo deal. Logan calls her “Pinkie,” and she thinks she’s back on top, but really, she’s shooting herself in the foot.
Shiv should have just waited for Roman and Gerri to ruin their positions on their own - it was happening either way. By immediately beginning to blackmail Gerri, Shiv is creating another enemy in a game where she’s the underdog. Considering how pissed off Logan is about Roman’s relationship with Gerri and the recent history of sexual harassment fiascos at Royco in Succession season 2 , this was going to hurt Gerri and Roman either way. She should have just waited for them to screw themselves over, but Shiv getting involved just looks like a desperate play at an upper hand.
More: Succession Season 3, Episode 3 Ending: Why Logan Lets The FBI Into WayStar
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When Jesse Armstrong, the writer and creator of the HBO series “ Succession ,” arrived on set at Amerigo Vespucci Airport, in Florence, one morning in June, he was faced with an extravagant decision. The scene to be shot was from the first episode of Season 3, in which various members of the Roy family—the dysfunctional media dynasty whose power struggles the show acidly chronicles—have just disembarked from the yacht on which, in the Season 2 finale, they bobbed in gilded captivity. Two planes had been positioned together on the tarmac: a Boeing 737, rented at a price of more than a hundred thousand dollars, and a smaller Falcon business jet. Tracks had been laid for a dolly shot. The temperature was already climbing into the eighties, and a crew of more than two hundred people bustled about the runway, perspiring in high-visibility vests.
The scene hinged on a surprise. In the final moments of the previous episode, Logan Roy, the volatile patriarch, was aboard the yacht, watching a live stream of Kendall Roy, one of his four ambitious offspring, at a press conference in New York, where he had been sent to publicly shoulder the consequences of a scandal in the cruise-ship division of Waystar Royco, the family conglomerate. Instead of offering himself up as a sacrifice, however, Kendall had stuck the knife into his father. The new season, which begins airing in October, picks up the story moments later, with Logan, the rest of the family, and Logan’s most loyal executives still in Europe, calculating how to counter Kendall’s move.
“It’s a moment of indecision,” Armstrong said of the tarmac scene, above the drone of idling jet engines. Though the previous season ended with a closeup of an inscrutable smile on Logan’s face, “this is the moment at which you get the sense that Logan is worried.” In the new script, Logan chooses to divide his forces into two camps: one party will return to America while he and others fly elsewhere. Armstrong’s decision that morning involved the placement of the two rented planes, which airport staff had parked close together. As he put it to me, his concern was that having two planes visible at the outset of the scene would preëmpt the story: “I think a viewer’s sense would be: ‘They can all travel together on the big plane. So why is there a second plane?’ ”
An embarrassment of airplanes: a very “Succession” problem. The show, a word-of-mouth hit, is known for its faithful depiction of the bountiful resources and anesthetized habits of the very wealthy. On an excursion from the yacht in Croatia, Logan’s son-in-law, Tom Wambsgans, instructs the pilot of a small boat, “Next cove, please, Julius,” so that he and his wife, Shiv, can be ferried to a sublime coastal spot for the unhappiest picnic ever. Armstrong—whose display of personal indulgence, in spite of his professional success, so far extends only to showing up to the Season 3 writers’ room in an extremely nice blue cashmere sweater—is a good-natured stickler for verisimilitude. The playwright Lucy Prebble, who is one of the show’s writers, recalls “someone coming in and saying, ‘We can’t have two helicopters,’ and noting how many tens of thousands of dollars they cost, and Jesse just saying, in a really relaxed way, ‘I think we probably need two.’ ” “Succession” documents wealth but it does not fetishize it, with the possible exception of a backless wool turtleneck dress worn by Shiv in an episode of Season 2; the garment was so delectably impractical that it inspired a flurry of online shopping. In general, the show makes affluence look vaguely diseased, and emphasizes the ways in which even the very rich cannot be entirely insulated from the drudgery of inconvenience. Mark Mylod, who has directed close to half the episodes of “Succession,” and is also an executive producer, told me, “We try to find situations where the characters cannot control the world, whether the weather’s bad or they are stuck in traffic.” For last season’s finale, Mylod filmed scenes on the yacht in the middle of the day, beneath harsh, overhead sunlight, in order to make the characters seem uncomfortably exposed, physically and emotionally. When, in the same episode, Logan is obliged to conduct a humbling video call with one of his corporation’s major shareholders, it is not from the comfort of his Audi but, rather, from the grim patio of a service station on a busy highway.
At the Florence terminal, the drawbacks of private plane travel—being ferried in cramped vans to wait on a scorching, gritty, noisy airport apron, as opposed to sharing a large, air-conditioned terminal with commercial passengers—were identical to the drawbacks of shooting high-end television in an inhospitable location. The actors clutched their scripts while members of the hair-and-makeup team attended to them, attempting to keep sweat and grime in abeyance. Will Tracy and Tony Roche, two of the show’s writers, hid under a small awning, using their phones to read Armstrong’s script for a forthcoming episode. Given the prevailing discomfort, Armstrong had to weigh how much of a disruption it was going to be creatively, physically, and emotionally to preserve the revelation of a second plane. In consultation with Mylod, who was directing the episode, a decision was reached not to compromise narrative integrity: the Falcon would be towed out of sight. To Armstrong’s relief, a driver on a small white tug had removed the offending plane within fifteen minutes. “I thought it was going to be a huge deal to move a plane,” Armstrong told me, once the Falcon had been shunted aside. He sounded amused, even a little wondering. “But, luckily, it took just one little man.”
The table read of the pilot episode of “Succession” took place in Manhattan on November 8, 2016: Election Day. That evening, the cast and the rest of the team gathered at the home of Adam McKay —an executive producer of the show, and the director of the pilot—for a party that was expected to celebrate the victory of Hillary Clinton . Matthew Macfadyen, the British actor who plays Tom Wambsgans, told me, “We watched the results come in, and everyone wandered off into the night—good for storytelling, bad for humanity.” Armstrong’s most significant memory of the occasion was how quickly attendees accommodated to what initially seemed to be earth-shattering news. “It was such a shock—then five, ten minutes later, everyone’s living in a new reality,” he said. Even in calamity, he observed, many people are “quite oriented towards how it affects them, and what they will do next.”
The first episodes of “Succession,” which aired in the summer of 2018, established an elliptical relationship to contemporary reality: there would be no specific references to Trump . But, with the U.S. government turned over to a leader with a transparently chaotic, transactional, and rapacious nature, the show met the national mood. “Succession” would have been equally entertaining had Hillary Clinton become President, but it wouldn’t have felt so timely if it hadn’t appeared after the election of Trump—a candidacy championed by Fox News , whose core strategy of chasing ratings by spreading fear is not dissimilar to that of ATN, the news organization owned by Waystar Royco. The opening credit sequence of “Succession” includes a cheeky shot of an ATN news ticker; in Season 2, it reads, “ gender fluid illegals may be entering the country ‘twice .’ ”
For some viewers, Armstrong’s thoroughgoing commitment to a curdled view of humanity—as the Roys jockey for position, they trade such endearments as “the cunt of Monte Cristo”—made the show at once intolerable and irresistible. “ I hate everyone on ‘Succession’ and I can’t stop watching, ” a typical headline read. The show is so unsettling, in part, because it offers no vantage points exterior to its scrupulously rendered universe—there is no outsider figure who is easier to identify with than the amoral protagonists. The Roy family’s outsider, Cousin Greg , is as calculating as any member of the clan with whom he seeks to ingratiate himself. Culture critics have popularized the term “wealth porn” to characterize shows, such as “ Billions ” or “ Gossip Girl ,” that lavish attention on the consumption habits of the absurdly wealthy. But, if the shiny surface of “Succession” bears a relation to pornography, it is less because it titillates than because it partakes of pornography’s deadening relentlessness.
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“Succession” also withholds cheap catharsis. Kendall’s backsliding with drugs is only the most overt example of the show’s gothic sensibility: all the Roys have been poisoned by the toxic nature of the family fortune, and Armstrong refuses to impose on them the kind of artificial personal growth that fosters an easy bond with the audience. The closest that “Succession” has come to giving its characters a respite from their crabbed emotional confinement is when Kendall, at a particularly low ebb, begs Shiv for a hug. She awkwardly complies, but only after saying in astonishment, “Give you a hug ?”
Given the care that Armstrong puts into making “Succession” a complex viewing experience, he is reluctant to explicate the show too much, as if it were reducible to a tidy set of themes and intentions. Nevertheless, his ambitions in “Succession” are driven not by a voyeuristic fascination with the rich—or by a righteous desire to expose the perfidies of inequity—but by a wish to tell, through the specific medium of a contemporary media dynasty, a more universal story about power and family relations, and to show how those forces can torque an individual’s humanity. It’s not so much “Billions” as “ Buddenbrooks ,” with more money and less grain. In one of a series of conversations during the making of Season 3, Armstrong told me, “One of the things that strikes me when I’ve read about these families—whether it be the Maxwells or the Redstones or the Julio-Claudians—is that, when you get that combination of money, power, and family relations, things get so complicated that you can justify actions to yourself that are pretty unhealthy to your well-being as a human being. Or you don’t even need to justify them, because the actions are baked into your being.” The infighting can become so darkly satisfying that it consumes one’s life: “For people who come from powerful families, there is nothing in life quite as interesting as being at court.” Indeed, almost nobody in a rich family steps away from the drama. “For these people to be excluded from the flame of money and power, I think, would feel a bit like death,” Armstrong said.
Armstrong’s interest in how human beings work—in what they say, and what they leave unsaid—is combined with a gift for comic dialogue that bounces from the demotic to the lewd to the baroque. Upon arriving at the family’s Hamptons estate, Logan demands that the doors be opened, noting, “It smells like the cheesemonger died and left his dick in the Brie.” When Cousin Greg is grilled at a congressional hearing, he responds to one question by saying, “Uh, if it is to be said, so it be, so it is”—a tortured circumvention of “Yes.” The uneasy simultaneity of comedy and drama that “Succession” depends on is a consequence of Armstrong’s unwillingness to save his characters from themselves. The writer and director Chris Morris, on whose recent movie “The Day Shall Come” Armstrong worked as a writer, told me, “Each of the characters in ‘Succession’ gives you the capacity to hope that they might snap out of the trap of their own existence. Jesse is the perfect sadist, because he is horrible to each one in turn, and yet he offers the audience just enough to hope that the characters might this time not disgrace themselves in the way that we kind of know they will. It is basically like a cat playing with a mouse and not killing it.”
A certain pitilessness, Armstrong told me, is not a bad thing for a work of fiction to have. “How can you be true about human beings?” he said. “That is a preoccupation.” He went on, “Without getting too highfalutin, there’s that quote from Marx, in ‘ The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte ,’ where he says men and women make their own history, but not the circumstances of their own making.” (The original text is less taut: “Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past.”) Armstrong continued, “For me, a lot of the art and the work of the show is in that territory between what’s history in the broadest sense, what’s family history, what’s tradition, and what’s the room for one’s own choices, and your own making of your life and your world. And there’s a gap there, which that mysterious thing about human personality fills.”
Whether Armstrong is on set at one of the foreign locales that give “Succession” its glossy atmosphere of sterile, moneyed internationalism or at Silvercup Studios in Queens—where the set of Logan Roy’s Fifth Avenue apartment, modelled on the mansion owned by the Council on Foreign Relations, is maintained—he is “like the mayor of a small town,” Jon Brown, a writer for the show, told me. Brown recalled, “I was in his office one day, and he was trying to write an episode, and someone came in and said, ‘Jesse, the caterers have made an ice sculpture, and they would like you to come and look at it,’ and Jesse had to put his episode down to go and look at it. He has these civic duties to keep everyone happy.”
When Armstrong is not issuing the equivalent of mayoral proclamations, he works in a rented room in a converted department store in Brixton, a neighborhood in South London. The office is spacious and airy but modestly equipped, with a wall of bookshelves and a teakettle on a side table. He keeps a carton of milk on the window ledge outside, like a student. “It feels a bit profligate having a whole fridge just for one pint of milk,” he said when I visited. His desk faces a window that overlooks a commuter railway. When I remarked that the clatter of passing trains must distract him, Armstrong looked surprised, as if he’d never noticed it before. “If you’d asked me if I could hear the trains from my office, I would have told you, ‘I don’t think so,’ ” he said. “I’d be a terrible—or brilliant—estate agent.”
Armstrong, who is fifty, has a scruff of salt-and-pepper beard that comes and goes, intelligent brown eyes that he often closes in concentration when speaking, and a measured voice that is lightly inflected with the accent of Shropshire, in the West Midlands, where he grew up. He is as affable as the characters on “Succession” are disagreeable. Prestige TV is prime territory for assholery, and the writers’ rooms of some of the best shows of recent decades have been arenas for conflict. Matthew Weiner, the creator of “ Mad Men ,” was called “an emotional terrorist” by a former writer on the show. (“I was a very demanding boss,” he later told the New York Times .) When Aaron Sorkin , the creator of “ The West Wing ,” was accused of yelling at a female writer on his HBO series “ The Newsroom ,” he responded that writers’-room arguments are “not only common, they are encouraged.”
This is not Armstrong’s style: he prefers to engender creativity with stability. “I’ve never seen him lose his temper,” Jon Brown told me. The show employs ten staff writers, half of them British and half American, and, unusually for a comedy, there is a roughly equal proportion of men to women. Even when the show has been in production and Armstrong, in addition to his other duties, has been writing the final two episodes of the season, he has remained equanimous. Brown recalled, “When we were in Scotland filming last season, there was a time when he asked me and Tony Roche to stop talking, so he could concentrate. Me and Tony were, like, ‘Fucking hell, someone’s grumpy.’ And then, in an hour, Jesse was, like, ‘You can talk again.’ ”
Francesca Gardiner, one of the writers of Season 3, said of her boss, “He’s sort of cool-dorky.” Armstrong bakes. He’s been a vegetarian—with occasional excursions into fish—since his youth. He met his wife, who works for the National Health Service, when they were in college, at the University of Manchester. They have two children and have lived in the same unflashy part of South London for almost three decades. When I asked if he had plans to upgrade his domestic space, he said, “We might do a new kitchen. So that will be corrupting.” Jeremy Strong, who plays Kendall Roy, told me, “I think it was Flaubert who said, ‘I want to live the quiet, ordered life of the bourgeoisie so that I can be violent and original in my work.’ That’s Jesse.”
Meticulous research goes into making “Succession” feel true to the rarefied world it portrays. What kind of overcoat would Logan Roy wear? A trick question: a mogul being perpetually shuttled from corner suite to climate-controlled limousine to luxury apartment doesn’t need an overcoat, no matter how cold it gets. Each of the staff writers is tasked with exploring a different dimension of the “Succession” world—which is, Armstrong acknowledges, overwhelmingly white and privileged. “We are working to reflect the world as it is, and not as we would wish it to be,” he said. “There’s another sort of show in which edging the world a bit towards what one would want it to be doesn’t hurt the show at all, whereas our show is critical-satirical—we need to portray that very particular and very powerful bit of the world it is concerned with quite precisely.” Last season, it fell to Susan Soon He Stanton to conduct an inquiry into the ministrations provided by the staff of a luxury yacht. She reported back that attendants wipe specks of powder from the rim of a guest’s makeup compact and print out copies of the daily newspapers every morning, as if they had been freshly fetched from a terrestrial newsstand. Jon Brown took a deep, if not hands-on, dive into the kind of élite sex club that serves as the setting for Tom Wambsgans’s bachelor party in Season 1. In an early draft of the scene, Brown incorporated an incident that he’d learned about during his investigations, in which an orgy room’s music speakers failed, making the slapping sound of flesh on flesh wetly audible. “After about one second, someone shouted, ‘Put the fucking music on,’ because even they didn’t want to hear how disgusting it was,” he told me. Armstrong decided to spare Tom that particular degradation, perhaps because he would soon put him through a humiliation that deliberately echoes the kind of sadistic jokes Josef Stalin used to play on party guests. At a dinner at a corporate retreat in Hungary, Logan, determined to stop leaks to the press, invents Boar on the Floor, a game in which executives suspected of betrayal are forced to crawl and chase sausages on the parquetry. “No half-hearted oink!” he demands.
As background for “Succession,” Armstrong and his writers loyally read the Financial Times , and they have plowed through a library’s worth of media biographies. They took a close look at “ Crime and Punishment ,” in order to deepen their depiction of Kendall’s inner turmoil, and consulted histories of ancient Rome in the hope that understanding the relationship between Nero and his freedman Sporus—whom the Emperor commanded be castrated, before undergoing a sham marriage ceremony with him—might illuminate the dynamic between Tom and Cousin Greg. The show has also hired such literary consultants as Gary Shteyngart, the novelist whose 2018 book, “ Lake Success ,” also depicts the lives of the super-rich in New York; among other things, Shteyngart discussed with the “Succession” team the delusionary psychology of hedge funders who are convinced that their wealth will protect them from the consequences of climate change. Tom Holland, the author of wide-lens books about ancient and medieval history, spoke about Caligula and other dissolute Roman leaders.
Last year, Brown told me, Armstrong came into the writers’ room with a big notion about the Epic of Gilgamesh . “I am fucked if I have any idea what the Epic of Gilgamesh is,” Brown said. “But if it makes you feel like you deserve your Emmy a little more, knock yourself out.” Armstrong assured me, “I have not read the Epic of Gilgamesh. I have probably listened to an ‘In Our Time’ podcast about it.” This lapse notwithstanding, Armstrong is a serious reader. Once, when I asked him which books he’d read recently, he mentioned the memoirs of Jack Straw , the Labour Party politician who served as a Member of Parliament and as Lord Chancellor; Robert Draper’s book about the run-up to the Iraq War; “ A Little History of Poetry ,” by John Carey; and the short stories of Jean Stafford.
Armstrong is disciplined not only in his reading. At the outset of writing Season 3, he started taking early-morning swims at Brockwell Lido, an unheated outdoor pool in London; as winter closed in, he updated his collaborators with slightly smug daily reports about the increasingly frigid water temperatures. Certain aspects of Armstrong’s work habits suggest a need to exert control. In the fall of 2019, the writers’ room for Season 3 was set up in a modern office building in Victoria. Dismayed to discover that he could not personally adjust the thermostat, Armstrong drew a picture of one set to 21.5°C—about 70°F—and put it on the wall. “You are meant to have a slightly cooler room for comedy,” he told me. “Standups always like the room cold, and if you’re shooting a sitcom live you want it a little bit chilly for the audience. I don’t know why—you’d have to ask a combination of an evolutionary psychologist and a building-maintenance man.” The room in Victoria also lacked a clock, and so, on a whiteboard featuring charts denoting each character’s development episode by episode, Armstrong drew a clock set to 2:25 p.m. It’s a hopeful time of day for a TV writer, he told me, since the room officially wraps up at 3:30 p.m .: “It’s almost there—not painful, watch-checking time, but nice to be toward the end of the day.”
When the show is in development, Armstrong’s preferred practice is to begin the day with each writer, in turn, giving an account of what she or he did the previous night, a process that can last as long as an hour. Will Tracy told me, “We go round the room clockwise, and everyone says what they ate for dinner, what bad movie they watched on TV, how much sleep they got—the more mundane, the funnier and better. At first, I thought this was very odd, but I immediately noticed that it bonded the writers—we developed a kind of group rapport very quickly.” Tracy went on, “And then all kinds of stuff from those evening recaps weaseled their way into the show. Someone will mention something about a friend who lived on Staten Island and had to commute into New York, and all of a sudden there’s a little line in the script about how Greg is living on Staten Island, and he’s coming in on the ferry every day and it’s a nightmare.” (A sneer from Tom: “Dude, why stop at the ferry? Just come in from Cleveland on the Greyhound.”)
Personal preoccupations, or nuggets of family history, find their way into the scripts, along with the writers’ research. The unfolding disaster of “Sands”—the dreadful play written by Willa Ferreyra, the girlfriend of Logan’s eldest son, Connor Roy—is informed by Armstrong’s impatience with the experience of theatregoing. “I am almost phobic about fearing that I am going to be bored, and in the theatre it’s a bit rude to leave, so I find that increases my anxiety about being bored to high levels,” he told me. The story line is enhanced by the presence in the writers’ room of some acclaimed playwrights, including Lucy Prebble and Susan Soon He Stanton. When, in an episode partially written by Stanton, Shiv meets Logan for a post-theatre supper and asks him how he enjoyed the play, his weary reply is “You know—people pretending to be people.”
When I visited the writers’ room after hours one afternoon in late 2019, I peeked at the whiteboards, along with other visual evidence of the group’s creative discussions, such as photocopied images of paintings, by Goya and Rubens, of Saturn devouring his son. There was a chart documenting a group competition to predict the results of the recent U.K. general election, which had secured Boris Johnson ’s position as the country’s Prime Minister (to the dismay of the liberal intelligentsia of London, among other constituencies). The clear winner was Armstrong, who had predicted a Conservative margin of victory far greater than even the most pessimistic of his collaborators thought possible. “One of the privileges of doing a show like this is that you are able to think about the world with some other smart people,” he told me. “Do you know that W. H. Auden quote—‘Poetry makes nothing happen’? To some extent, poetry can stand in for this kind of work as well. I don’t suppose it is going to have any direct influence on the world. But it is still a way of being in it, and feeling like you are part of it, instead of entirely being acted upon.”
More than a decade before Armstrong wrote the pilot of “Succession,” he was commissioned to write a documentary-style teleplay set at a family dinner party celebrating Rupert Murdoch ’s eightieth birthday. That project didn’t get far off the ground, but it did come to the attention of Frank Rich, the former New York Times columnist who is now an HBO producer. That and other Armstrong scripts impressed the network enough to green-light “Succession,” which takes inspiration not only from the Murdoch dynasty but also from other media families, including the Maxwells and the Redstones. Among Armstrong’s unmade but most admired projects is a bio-pic of Lee Atwater , the scabrous Republican strategist who helped elect George H. W. Bush to be Ronald Reagan’s successor as President. “It’s morning in America . . . and I tell you what, I have morning fucking wood,” Armstrong’s Atwater announces on page 1. Rich described the script to me as “a history of right-wing politics up to that time, with a comic touch,” adding, “I couldn’t believe this British writer could write such a compelling piece about American politics.”
At first glance, it might seem surprising that “Succession”—a show saturated in knowing detail about Manhattan, even if it is concerned with a global corporate business—was conceived by a British showrunner and is the product of a writers’ room in London. The Roys, though, have British roots: Logan is from a working-class Scottish background, and the mother of the younger Roy children, Caroline, is a frosty English aristocrat. Armstrong told me that in considering Caroline’s class background he had in mind someone like Lady Caroline Blackwood, the author and the daughter of the Marquess of Dufferin and Ava, who was married to both Robert Lowell and Lucian Freud. The barb-trading discourse of the family, and also its aversion to the expression of emotion, are recognizable as culturally inherited traits. When Kendall visits his mother and tries to confide in her late one night, she recommends that they wait until morning, so they can talk “over an egg,” then scarpers before he rises. Brian Cox, who plays Logan—and who, like his character, was born in Dundee, Scotland—has an apartment in London, and when I met him at a café in Primrose Hill he told me, “The show has a kind of Swiftian satire. It’s in the vibe of this country.”
The “Succession” scripts are peppered with the type of memorably lurid cursing that another British writer, Armando Iannucci , helped make a hallmark of HBO, with “ Veep .” Armstrong has a rule: an insult “should be at least as expressive of who the character uttering it is as it is eloquent, or ineloquent, about its target.” At one point, Kendall warns Stewy, a onetime school friend turned business rival, “I will come to you at night with a razor blade, and I will cut your fucking dick off”; Stewy airily replies, “And then push it up your cunt until poo-poo pops out of my nose hole.” But the show’s linguistic ingenuity extends well beyond scatology. The characters in “Succession” often employ weirdly original turns of phrase, as if they were generating on the spot the inventive speech of an individual caught between two cultures. When Tom learns that Cousin Greg is driving his grandpa from Canada to New York, he taunts, “Canada? With the health care and the ennui?” When the mischievous Roman Roy returns from a brief corporate posting in the sticks, he gives Logan’s butler an almost Falstaffian greeting: “Hail, my fellow toiler man, I have returned from real America, bearing the gift of sight.”
Will Tracy told me, “Jesse has a very particular kind of phraseology for the way people speak—even particular obscenities or analogies. The characters will use a kind of dialogue that makes me think, I’ve never really heard somebody speak that way. But it feels real, and not like a TV writer writing a line of what feels like dialogue.” Tracy, who is American, recalled that, when he first heard certain phrases in the writers’ room, he assumed that they were Britishisms. “But it turns out they are just Jesse-isms,” he said. “Like, he’ll say, ‘Tom is completely freaking out—he’s completely shit his whack.’ I said, ‘Is that a British thing?’ Jesse said yeah, but Tony and Georgia and Jon said no . Jesse thought that it was a thing.” The phrase will be introduced to the lexicon in an upcoming episode.
Armstrong has been interested in America since he was a teen-ager growing up in Oswestry, a market town on the border with Wales. His father, David, was a high-school English teacher who later turned to writing crime fiction; his mother, Julia, worked at nursery schools. Armstrong told me, “Oswestry’s a bit in the middle of nowhere—quite tough, and quite English, in the way border towns are.” In 2013, he made a short film, “No Kaddish in Carmarthen,” centered on Gwyn, a fifteen-year-old Welsh high schooler with a fascination for Woody Allen , who adopts black-rimmed non-prescription glasses and claims to be Jewish. “Mam’s a Methodist,” Gwyn says. “It’s the same thing—it’s similar.” Armstrong calls the film a “short-story version of an element of my youth.” His parents were gently countercultural, in a health-food-and-alternative-energy kind of way; they were also eager to expose Armstrong and his younger sister, who is now a graphic designer, to the world beyond their provincial town, with family trips to Greece and Tunisia.
In the spring of 1990, Armstrong and a friend took a budget trip to New York City, where they crashed on the couch of some Cooper Union students whom Armstrong had met while backpacking in Europe. “We walked around and had the tops of our heads blown off, just seeing what the city was like,” Armstrong told me. Upon returning home, he matriculated at the University of Manchester, ninety minutes northeast of Oswestry. He chose the university partly because it had an excellent American Studies department, and partly because the city had a vibrant cultural scene, with the celebrated Haçienda night club having hosted such bands as the Smiths and New Order. “When I was choosing where to go to university, we used to try to go to the Haçienda, and we were always turned away,” Armstrong said. “I felt like if I went to the university I could try more frequently, at least.”
As part of his degree, Armstrong spent a year at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Student life there was bracingly political in a way that Manchester at the time was not, and Armstrong contributed to the school’s daily newspaper. But rural Massachusetts felt much less sophisticated. “I’d never before seen people carrying around four cans of beer, like they’d captured some amazing trophy,” he recalled. He drew on the experience of his year abroad for an unrealized dramatic-comedy script in which two friends—a nerdy white guy from UMass and an affluent Black graduate of Amherst College—pool their resources to buy a cocoa plantation in a fictional African country, planning to make bespoke chocolate for American hipsters.
After college, Armstrong worked for two years in Westminster, London’s political district, as an assistant to Doug Henderson, a Member of Parliament and the shadow minister of home affairs for the opposition Labour Party. “We had a weirdly broad brief—everything from the Channel Islands to dangerous dogs to asylum and immigration,” Armstrong recalled. He did not take to the corridors of power; at the 1996 Labour Party conference, held in Blackpool, he so dreaded the prospect of schmoozing at parties that he spent his evenings feeding coins into video games at the amusement arcades on the pier. He was less interested in exercising influence and more interested in noting the quirks of those who held it, such as Ann Widdecombe, a right-wing politician whose office had two posters on display: an anti-abortion image of a fetus, and an image of Garfield, the cartoon cat, bearing the legend “If you want to look thinner, hang out with people fatter than you.” Armstrong told me, “She didn’t mean them to relate to each other, but to see them together was intriguing.” Though he disliked Westminster, the experience helped him as a writer on “The Thick of It,” a profane satire of British politics created by Armando Iannucci.
At the University of Manchester, Armstrong had become close friends with Sam Bain, a classmate from a creative-writing course. Bain, a privately educated Londoner, told me that he was interested by Armstrong’s quite different background. “He wrote one short story that had a character working on a building site,” Bain said. “It took me a while to realize that it was based on his own experience.” After Armstrong abandoned politics, he and Bain began regularly collaborating on comedy scripts. Armstrong discovered that having a writing partner was an amenable way to live. “There’s this third entity, Bain & Armstrong Industries, so, when you stop work and go home, you feel more like you’ve gone home from work than you do when you are working solo,” Armstrong said. “And you have got somebody who is exactly as interested as you are in your career.”
Their first big show, a British reboot of the U.S. sitcom “That ’70s Show,” was a flop. But in 2003 they had a breakout success as the co-creators and principal writers of “Peep Show,” a sitcom about sad-sack flatmates: Mark, a bank-loan officer, and Jeremy, a failed musician. The scripts, instead of featuring snappy dialogue, were anchored by the interior monologues of the two protagonists, from whose perspective scenes were often shot. The show, which ran for nine seasons, is widely considered to be a British comedy classic; Chris Morris told me that Armstrong and Bain became known as “the ultimate word in flawed male psychology.” One celebrated episode is predicated on Armstrong’s aversion to theatre: Mark is drafted to join Jeremy on a double date to a low-budget play, and they endure the experience as if undergoing a dreadful medical experiment. “When do we get to go out?” Jeremy whispers to Mark as they sit between their dates. Mark, looking crucified, replies, “As far as I can make out, we get to go out for a bit in an hour, and then we have to come back for two hours .”
Armstrong’s background in half-hour comedies can be detected in the economy of the “Succession” scripts, and in the premium the show places on keeping things lively. “I still think a half hour of comedy is the most intensive form of writing you can do,” he said. Kieran Culkin, who plays Roman, told me that Armstrong is allergic to shtick: “If it’s just a little bit—half an inch—too far-leaning into something, he’s going to catch it. On any other show, people would be, like, ‘Oh, that’s funny, let’s do that.’ And he’ll always be the voice of reason: ‘Yes, it’s funny, yes, it’s great, but it doesn’t work.’ ”
Armstrong rejects the privileging of drama over comedy, and happily calls “Succession” a satire. But the characters are far more complicated individuals than are likely to be found in a sitcom; their stunted interiority is explored with a combination of empathy and dispassion. Such nuance is possible, in no small part, because of the actors playing these roles. Brian Cox is a Shakespeare veteran, as is Sarah Snook, who told me that playing Shiv had helped her understand the role of Cordelia, in “King Lear,” rather than the other way around. “I felt like I understood the weight of familial responsibility, and the love and compassion a daughter can have for a father and leader, though he may be difficult,” Snook said. Jeremy Strong approaches Kendall with an immersive rigor, not with the audience-pleasing instincts of a standup. Strong told me that, during the filming of the pilot, he asked Armstrong at one point whether they could spend some extra time exploring Kendall’s history. “Jesse said, ‘Let me sit with this for a minute,’ and I went and got some lunch, and then twenty minutes later I got an e-mail entitled ‘Window Rumination.’ It was a fully realized monologue—a memory he’d created of Kendall visiting the office when he was six years old. He was like this little prince in the office, and everyone was adoring of him and smiling, and he kind of wandered off a little too far, and there was this huge guy, a security guard, who didn’t know who he was, and it sort of escalated, and this six-year-old Kendall was powerless and tongue-tied, until his father came and found him. It was a poignant and beautiful piece of writing, and, to me, central to this character’s struggle and experience—being lost in this oceanic moment and being saved by his father’s embrace.” The scene didn’t make it into the pilot, “but it’s all embedded,” Strong told me. “It was an amazing experience of finding this character together.”
Armstrong told me that his ability to empathize with the Roys’ flaws is likely connected to his having reached an age at which “you’re more aware of the tragic things that can happen to yourself, and other people.” He went on, “So-called dark or serious things can still be funny, but, as you get older, more terrible things happen to more people you know. The things you laughed at as a young person—you’d better be careful, because they could happen to you tomorrow. With jokes about old people wearing nappies, or infirmity—what are you laughing at? It’s going to be you, or your mum and dad, tomorrow. There’s nothing funny about that, and, if you think there is, you had better wonder about who is the subject of that joke.”
In early 2020, when it became clear that the filming of Season 3 would not begin that April, as planned, Armstrong hunkered down in South London. Around that time, he wrote me an e-mail that captured the tenor of the city: “Panic buying is still at the embarrassed, English, ‘what, I always buy this many lentils’ stage.” He told me that it remained to be seen whether current events would make it into the show “as a whiff or a stench.” By the spring, the crisis had come into darker focus: Mark Blum, the actor who played the cruise-division executive Bill Lockhart in Seasons 1 and 2, had died from covid -19 in New York City.
Weeks of delays turned into months. HBO executives were telling him to wait, Armstrong reported, “rather than have Logan do a series of Webinars we can put out on HBO Max.” During the course of the next few months, the show’s executive producer, Scott Ferguson, figured out the logistics of layering a covid -19 safety unit on top of the regular production crew, at a cost of millions of extra dollars. Production finally resumed, in New York City, in November. In the end, Armstrong decided not to incorporate the pandemic into the plot. This time, the characters’ habitual jetting around may seem even more exorbitant than usual.
The sequence at the Florence airport was filmed late in the shoot—an aberration. Armstrong prefers to film “Succession” in order. Although he begins the first day of production with a firm idea of where his characters will end up, their precise route is adjusted and refined along the way. In Florence, some dialogue was written on the spot, under the awning.
The dates of the airport shoot were dictated by location choices for the concluding episodes, which were to be set in the Tuscan countryside and around the Northern Italian lakes—landscapes of such loveliness that even the pitiless eye of Mark Mylod would have a hard time remaining jaundiced. At the Florence airport, Ferguson told me, “Quite honestly, I think every season Jesse has wanted to go to Italy. He also wanted a yacht the first season. So last season we got the yacht, and Italy is the second white whale.”
In Italy, Armstrong was showing a tentative degree of confidence that the season would achieve what he had hoped for it. At the airport, we went into a hangar and retired to what he referred to as his “office”: a solitary chair set up by a wall. “With any project, you go through waves of anxiety,” he told me. “I had moments of ‘Fuck, did we ever say that thing that we intended to say?’ ” He went on, “They say sometimes tennis players can see the ball quite big, and they feel like everything feels full of opportunity, and sometimes it will feel small, and nothing’s coming together. Sometimes you feel, ‘Oh, yes, I can do this , and now I can go there , and this sets up this .’ That sense of ‘I think I know what everyone’s thinking—I can see this room is full of all these people, and they all have their own perspectives, and I can feel them all.’ Then it feels full of possibility. I’m just wandering around the party, hearing what Gerri’s saying to Karl. That’s a fun feeling.”
For the scenes shot in Tuscany, Armstrong wanted to play with the E. M. Forster version of the region—or, at least, with the visual fantasies promulgated by the popular Merchant Ivory film adaptation of “ A Room with a View .” He said, “I just felt it was a fun thing that British people do—that relationship to Tuscany, and those British vibrations of quite complicated snobbery about an area that has a certain resonance of cultural value for the British.” Even if American viewers didn’t pick up on all the ways in which “Succession” smuggles observations about British class into the narrative, he said, they would respond to the depiction if it rang true.
Armstrong hadn’t had much time to himself since arriving in Florence, he said, though he had taken a walk from his hotel to visit the Palazzo Vecchio, which in the sixteenth century was the seat of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici. With international tourism all but halted, the exquisite city, marked by monuments to the dynastic powers that held sway five hundred years ago, was quieter and emptier than it had been in decades. Armstrong joked, “It’s a little bit Logan Roy—‘Close Florence, I’m coming through.’ ”
After two days at the airport, the production moved south, to the Val d’Orcia. Hundreds of crew members were scattered around villas and in hotels in various small towns. Armstrong landed in Pienza, a hilltop settlement built according to Renaissance principles of town planning at the order of Pope Pius II, a scion of Sienese nobility. Pienza’s narrow pedestrian streets were scented with jasmine and pecorino, and its museums, former palazzi overlooking the valley, were empty. In the evening, the piping voices of a handful of Italian children playing in the town square echoed against the travertine façade of the cathedral. Then, when the clock struck eleven, a nationwide curfew began, and the town fell as silent as it would have been in the dark of a fifteenth-century night.
The first day in the Tuscan countryside, a scene from the penultimate episode was being shot, featuring Sarah Snook and Matthew Macfadyen as Shiv and Tom. The setting was Bagno Vignoni, an ancient spa settlement, and showed the couple seated at a café, then walking together around a sixteenth-century bathing pool in the center of the village. It was a successor scene, Armstrong told me, to their brutal picnic in the final episode of Season 2, in which Tom confesses to Shiv, “I wonder if the sad I’d be without you would be less than the sad I get from being with you.” Armstrong said, “I saw this as ‘What’s the next accommodation they will come to?’ It’s an intimate scene in which they either are frank with each other or appear to be trying to be frank with each other.” The scene also harked back to the Season 1 finale, set on the couple’s wedding night, in which Shiv belatedly tells Tom that she wants an open marriage, and ventures as close as she ever has to emotional honesty: “Love is, like, twenty-eight different things, and they all get lumped in together in this one sack, and there’s a lot of things in that sack—it needs to get emptied out. There’s fear, and jealousy, and revenge and control, and they all get wrapped up in really nice fucking wrapping paper.”
As the crew arranged the scene, readying extras and setting tables, Armstrong, leaning against a honey-colored wall, said, “That’s what’s interesting about the people in the show—hopefully, they are not incapable of honesty.” He went on, “Shiv is a passionate, driven, smart person, who I think occasionally gets glimpses of the way that her life could be integrated and whole and truthful. But they’re really hard to keep hold of, especially when they brush up against other people. And, like the other characters in the show, she hasn’t got very good facilities for compromise, or for taking into account other people’s feelings.” This was a moment, he said, in which his preferred Marxist lens—men and women make their own histories, but not the terms of their own making—proved useful as a way of situating the personal within the sociological. He observed, “We are all individuals with our own psychological makeup and impulses, and yet we find ourselves in vises of social and economic situations, which means that we are bent in and out of shape—and we’re bent out of shape by the psychologies of our families. So navigating the space between those—that you can act outside of your material interests, but will you?— that is a good area for where the conflict between human beings happens.”
As part of his background research for shooting in the area, Armstrong had been reading “ War in Val d’Orcia ,” the 1947 memoir of Iris Origo, the daughter of an American diplomat and Anglo-Irish aristocrat. Born in 1902, Origo, who became a biographer, was reared by her mother in a Medici palace in Florence, and married a member of the Italian nobility. In the twenties, the couple moved to La Foce, an estate in the Val d’Orcia. Origo’s memoir chronicles, in diary form, the effects on the region of the advent of the Second World War, during which Origo and her husband took in children who had been evacuated from the cities and also housed fifty British prisoners of war.
In reading the book, Armstrong had been struck—just as he had been after the table read of the “Succession” pilot, in November, 2016—by how quickly people adapt to altered conditions: a change in political circumstance; the onset of a pandemic; even the encroaching horrors of war. “There’s a moment when Mussolini is deposed, in 1943, and there’s a sense of hope—the Allies are coming, and it feels like it might be the day after tomorrow. But there’s still two more years of the war to go, and Iris Origo doesn’t know it,” he said. He had momentarily pulled down the face mask that covered his nose and mouth, in order to speak more clearly. “It’s just very human, that thing of adjusting yourself to a new position,” he went on. “Within seconds, the new world feels completely real and vivid, and you’re very quickly accommodated to it.” Then Armstrong raised his mask as he was called back to a video monitor, to watch another take. Snook and Macfadyen artfully interacted, with subtle variations in tone: more or less playful callousness on the part of Shiv, more or less submerged hurt and anger on the part of Tom. The characters moved and adjusted to their opulent constraints, in an evolving struggle whose conclusion—arriving in a future season—Armstrong had imagined but had yet to write. ♦
2020 Tradezone
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Rachel Syme writes about the yacht clothes that the Roy family wears in the Season 2 finale of the HBO series "Succession." ... Kendall (Jeremy Strong), who quietly slumps around, wears a tiny ...
Spoilers ahead for the Succession series finale. Jeremy Strong wants you to know that he is okay. Kendall Roy is less okay, as anyone who has seen Succession's series finale knows. It has been ...
Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong), shellshocked and isolated, ... the Roy children learn about Logan's passing while on the open water during Connor's yacht wedding, and their family's corporate ...
Kendall Roy: The truth is that my father is a malignant presence, a bully, and a liar, and he was fully personally aware of these events for many years and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock. ... Armstrong stated that he chose to play the Roy family on a yacht because of the ...
The Season 2 finale, which finds Kendall and Logan at odds, takes place on the family yacht as they decide who will be a patsy for the numerous crimes committed behind the scenes at Waystar Royco ...
We left the terrible billionaires on a yacht in the Mediterranean—well, most of them. Kendall was pawned off to combat scandal and act as the Roy's sacrificial lamb, only to turn on his father ...
Kendall Logan Roy is the main protagonist of the series as the heir-apparent, second-eldest son of Logan Roy. He is portrayed by Jeremy Strong. Kendall Roy has spent his life priming to be his father's heir; however, he's yet to convince Logan of his worth. Despite his assertiveness and outward confidence, Kendall is anxious and riddled with doubt at his core, often abusing substances and ...
The story of Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong) began as a tragedy five years ago, and ended as a tragedy tonight. ... he's swimming on the yacht where his father decides to pin the company's failings on ...
Season 4, Episode 6 of "Succession" featured a particular beach scene with Kendall Roy. This moment may be more significant than fans realize.
Logan hangs Kendall out to dry in his palatial cabin - the only question Kendall has for his dad is whether he ever believed his son could be CEO. "I don't know, maybe," says Logan ...
Either way—these are the very best of the best of Kendall Roy's outfits, ranked. #13. Sad boy hours (on a yacht) HBO. Kendall Roy in Succession Season 2, Episode 10. I love this picture of ...
The finale of season two sees the Roy family and their closest Waystar cohorts lounging and backstabbing on an 85-meter super-yacht off the coast of Croatia. Filming took place in the picturesque shores of Cavtat, Korčula, Mljet and Šipan, aboard the rather majestic super-yacht SOLANDGE, which measures in at a whopping 279ft and has ...
After surrendering his inheritance, the Roys using him as a scapegoat would have been a tragic conclusion to our sweet boy's story. However, Greg gets pulled into Kendall's plan to usurp his ...
As Logan and Shiv watch on television from the yacht, Kendall begins by saying he has been chosen to accept blame for the company's handling of the cruises incidents, ... which Greg has on hand. The speech shocks the reporters, Karolina, and the rest of the Roy family except for Logan, who is faintly smiling. Production
Over four seasons, Jeremy Strong and his character, Kendall Roy, brought great vulnerability to "Succession." "People either respond to that in a derisive way or in an empathic way," he said.
HBO's ' Succession ' heavily focuses on Kendall Roy as it explores the power struggle among the Roy family. Throughout his quest to challenge his father's authority and erase his past sins, Kendall is constantly associated with the recurring motif of water in the series. The water scenes come at crucial moments in Kendall's story ...
So Logan gathered the family and the top lieutenants — Kendall, Shiv and Tom, Roman (Kieran Culkin), even Greg — on the Roy yacht and watched each one try to respectfully, gently argue that ...
Warning: Spoilers ahead for Succession season 3, episode 8!. The ending of Succession season 3, episode 8, "Chiantishire," marked one of the show's first momentous cliffhangers, leaving off with the possibility of the unthinkable death by drowning of Kendall Roy. So far, Succession has avoided the tropes of killing off major characters to introduce major twists and shock-factor surprises ...
In the final moments of the previous episode, Logan Roy, the volatile patriarch, was aboard the yacht, watching a live stream of Kendall Roy, one of his four ambitious offspring, at a press ...
We constantly push ourselves, our partners... CAD/CAM has been a boon for dentists since 1983. It created the first integrated CAD/CAM system in the market. Since then, significant advances... Call / Texting Available : 408.490.4292. ROYDENT DENTAL LABORATORY.
Motorized yachts are more common than sailing vessels in California with 2,068 powerboats listed for sale right now, versus 722 listings for sailboats. Yacht prices in California. Prices for yachts in California start at $12,000 for the lowest priced boats, up to $4,200,000 for the most luxurious, opulent superyachts and megayachts, with an ...
YACHT This Setlist Add time. Add time. Last updated: 3 Sep 2024, 20:24 Etc/UTC. YACHT Gig Timeline. Feb 09 2018. Lodge Room Los Angeles, CA, USA Add time. Add time. Feb 10 2018. Crescent Ballroom Phoenix, AZ, USA Add time. Add time. May 08 2019. Shoreline Amphitheatre This Setlist Mountain View, CA, USA Add time. Add time.
Kendall-Jackson, Santa Rosa, CA. Welcome to Kendall-Jackson. You must be 21+ to shop and enjoy our wines. By clicking "Enter," you verify that you're of legal drinking age. Enter. Each year we bring the excitement of the Kentucky Derby to Sonoma County. Join us at the Kendall-Jackson Wine Estate & Gardens for the West Coast's largest official ...