Approximately half way through binging the series of Succession (2018-2023), I got so bored and annoyed that I went to watch the Chinese historical soap opera series 后宫甄嬛传 ("Empresses in the Palace" [2011], viewable for free on YT with English CC). It was only after binging all 76 (!) episodes of 甄嬛传 that I could come back and finish Succession in a hurry.
In many ways, Succession is very similar to 甄嬛传. Both are soap operas about multiple characters sniping and backstabbing each other to gain power within a toxic and confined space (the Roy family business or the Qing royal harem), groveling for the favor of that one absolute monarch (Papa le roi or the emperor nicknamed the big orange cat). Both are political and family dramas, suggesting a parallel between the world within and outside of the home. Both have at least the intention to expose the corrosive effect of power --- not only the absolute power at the top but also inside the many layers of hierarchy. Both series have dense dialogs that carry subtext and subtle messages.
Alas, in terms of quality, Succession is vastly inferior to 甄嬛传, despite its "prestige TV" status and HBO pedigree. While neither series is intended to be realistic, 甄嬛传 at least strives for believable psychological profiles for its characters and their relationships over a period of several years. Succession, on the other hand, tries and fails, even if critics endlessly try to excuse the gaping plot holes by proclaiming it as a "character study."
As a story about ultra-rich people fighting over control of a multinational corporation, based obviously on News Corp and Disney, the corporate plot feels like nothing more than some busy handwaving that bets on the ignorance of the average TV viewer. It is true that I have zero idea what board meetings look like, but the depiction in Succession looks more like lazy fantasies than a stab at comedy or satire, much less comedy based on research. Many plot twists throughout the series hinge on the question of money, but the deeper we get into the series, the less the money talk makes sense. For example, the early episodes of Season 4 spend an inordinate amount of time over the upstart tech/media company GoJo's offering price to acquire Waystar/Royco (imagine a deal for Facebook to acquire, say, Fox News), and GoJo's boss Mattson gave an offer the shareholders could not refuse. It is obvious, at this point, that Kendall and Roman did not have enough company shares between them to stop this deal. Then the offer price is never discussed ever again, and somehow, for no clear reason, the company board went into a tie in the climactic vote in the finale. There is some vague mention of GoJo's financial problems and suggestion that the offer price is no longer so favorable, but it is never fully explained what the offer is and why some board members want to sell but others don't.
That the series have always tightly focused on the motives of the 4 members of the Roy nuclear family (Connor and Tom are often just lurking without any real impact) can be considered by design, at least in the first 1.5 seasons. Later, however, this design becomes an excuse to blatantly use side characters as plot devices at will, ie, a sign of no more than lazy writing. For example, there is very little to foreshadow Tom's betrayal of Shiv at the end of Season 3, and zero reason for Stewy and Sandy to vote no on the GoJo deal. In comparison, 甄嬛传 juggles at least a dozen key characters, all with their own motivations and alliances consistently throughout the series (although some are killed off at various times). Most important, these characters continue to pursue their own interests rather than serve to trigger just another cheap twist.
I consider the sporadic and unreliable money talk to be a major flaw of this show centered around rich people. Don't tell me rich people do not incessantly think and talk about money just because they have billions to throw around. It is particularly jarring that the much-praised episodes after the death of the patriarch are entirely devoid of any talk of the will and inheritance. The plot is all about control of the company, but no mention of a will? A tycoon like Logan Roy would have a will that is probably as thick as the Bible, executed by half of a law firm. All that crying and sobbing and grief after Logan's death feels particularly phony to me. Only Roman admits, much later, that he had thought about this moment (but still no mention of money). Surely, Logan had the largest amount of company shares, but there is no mention whatsoever about how they are distributed among his children and relatives. It is laughable that there is not even one line of dialog from anyone talking, much less complain, about who got more than who in Logan's will. In fact, the entire seven post-death episodes ring false. You want to show children's resentment of parents' uneven distribution of affection and attention? You want to expose the bloody war of sibling rivalry? Nothing is more raw and focal than the room where the will is read. To completely avoid the issue of Logan's will is an in-your-face omission.
Both Succession and 甄嬛传 thrive on the large number of plot twists and reversals, conflicts and betrayals. In 甄嬛传, the twists follow dramatic conventions: setup over at least a few episodes followed by a payoff and perhaps a few repercussions. The effect is a complex web weaved in arcs that cover 10 to 20 episodes. Succession belongs to a modern breed of dramatic TV series that throw out many twists quickly to mask a transparent lack of patience, plotting, and characters' internal logic. Before Tom decided to betray Siobhan to Logan in Season 3, there was very little setup for it, as Siobhan's treatment of Tom was in fact hardly as bad as Season 2, when she was ready to send him to jail as the family scapegoat. So why would Tom take revenge at this particular time? A case can be made to explain it, but the writers choose not to. Another glaring example is the utility of Uncle Ewan, who would pop up occasionally to scold Logan's soullessness but never even a feeble attempt to use his power (supposedly a substantial share of company stocks) to influence the GoJo deal or ATN's politics, even after Logan's death.
Even in the first two seasons, the writers display a casual disregard for long-term plot arcs. Stewy and Sandy's plan to take over Waystar is concluded in the laziest possible way: Sandy's stroke terminates everyone else's ambitions. Really? Don't they already have the majority shares? Shareholder meetings and board votes are hyped up again and again, only to fizzle in again and again. If these supposedly critical events can be so easily postponed by Logan at a wave, then why are they hyped up as each season's climax? For example, the three children try to vanquish their father by snatching the Pierce network from Logan's clutch in early Season 4. Their success also leaves them with the consequence of having to pay ten billion dollars to the Pierce family, which forces them to support the GoJo acquisition, but then the need for that ten billion dollars just goes "puff", never to be mentioned again, and Kendall and Roman go right back to opposing the GoJo deal, just because Kendall desperately wants to keep ATN, which is something he showed no interest in the first season.
The series lost all credibility with me long before Season 4, but the particular hastiness of Season 4 serves as a perfect example of why the entire series is pure fantasy. Fantasies are not inherently bad, but it would be nice if there is some indication that the writers are fully aware that they are writing fantasy, with no effort to conduct any research into the real corporate world. What's worse, the lack of realistic details render the satire of the elite class toothless. I don't mind a lack of sympathetic characters or someone to root for, but if there is clearly no context suggesting a larger world outside of the frame of the screen and no interest in the psychology and motivation of characters not named Roy, the story becomes claustrophobic. Worse, it implies a dehumanization of people outside of the central few. To my mind, Jesse Armstrong has a lot more genuine love and awe for absolute monarchy (ie, "the father figure") than the writers of 甄嬛传, making Succession less of an attack on the system and more like whining that papa does not love him. To quote Logan's assessment of his children, the writers of Succession are also "not serious people."
If I have to watch a series with an endless stream of plot twists and amnesiac characters that form and break and reform and rebreak alliances every few episodes, I would much prefer Shonda Rhyme's Scandal. At least it doesn't pretend to be prestige TV.
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