Succession plunges viewers into the ring of the ultra-rich competing for the inheritance of WaystarRoyCo, a multi-media conglomerate. In this King Lear-like study of the human condition, where power replaces love, the fractious marriage of Shiv Roy and Tom Wambsgans unearths all we need to know about the elite and the plight of relationships founded on strategy before altruism.
When first introduced to Shiv Roy, she embodies someone who feels a responsibility to offset her privilege. She is a progressive political advisor, opposing her father’s conservative empire. With Tom, a modest man, Shiv relishes the charity work of their modern relationship that transcends class boundaries. Yet, when teased with power, she retreats back into the authoritative world of Waystar Royco. It is then that Shiv abandons attempting to right her father’s wrongs; a defeat realised in the titles of each season’s finale, quoting lines from a Berryman poem portraying the weight of guilt, as “There sat down, once, a thing on Henry’s heart, so heavy, if he had a hundred years…in all the time, Henry could not make good.” It’s as if Shiv is consumed by this sense that her status has wrought social harm, but feels this fate is immutable, so simply revels in it. It’s then that Shiv becomes a thoughtful exploration of how legacy persists as psychologically inescapable. She remains the most vivid realisation of the “poison drip[ping] through” in that despite her attempts to break the curse, she flees to tradition and privileged places of safety. At points, it seems that Shiv’s wit and cunning nature may bring her success. Instead, she becomes a warning tale against hubris; despite trying to embody the pinnacle of corporate feminism and individuality, she too becomes ‘just a wife’, left holding Tom’s hand as he inherits her family empire. Shiv is no different from the women she looks down on, and falls victim to that haunting female fear of becoming obsolete, the woman behind the man.
Quite the opposite, “striving and parochial” Tom Wambsgans embodies a Shakespeareanesque sycophant. He exposes the underbelly of their social order as we view it from the outside, under-respected. It’s through Tom that viewers are forced to confront the transactional nature of each dynamic, where people aren’t people, but economic actors seeking individual gain. Sitting uncomfortably as an unaccepted member of the elite, you struggle to locate if Tom is sincere or a mastermind through his alliance with Shiv. In their focal argument, Tom declares ‘I’m with you because I love you’, and is countered by a crude “Bullshit, you were fucking me for my DNA”. Tom, here and throughout, unearths the Roy’s inability to accept honest connection in a dog-eat-dog realm. It wouldn’t matter if it were earnest love, Shiv cannot accept it either way.
The unborn baby of the two leaves a sour symbol of ensuing generational trauma. Shiv was raised in an environment where affection was a finite resource to be fought for, but she hasn’t stopped fighting since. Motherhood for her is not fulfilling; at best it is a protest symbol against her own mother and those who claim she isn’t maternal, and at worst it is a sheer burden to the powerhouse she desires to be. Here lies a deep tragedy: viewers lose hope of them breaking free from the binds of legacy and competition – their baby is doomed by the power it awaits. Legacy wins, we can’t help but see a cunning Logan and bitter Caroline in the final shot of the pair.
As Tom warned, they truly are the scorpion and the frog; they go down together.
