Succession‘s second season finale ends on a high point not just for the episode or the season but the entire series. Until now it’s seemed almost unthinkable that one of Logan Roy’s brood would defy him this dramatically after first agreeing not to. This is more shocking than Kendall’s first attempt to dethrone his dad, since we’d watched him build to that point over several episodes. Our only clues here were implicit and contextual: the presence of Cousin Greg, who kept copies of incriminating documents, by Kendall’s side; the Judas/Fredo kiss Kendall planted on his dad’s cheek when he agreed to be the fall guy required to placate congressional investigators and nervous shareholders alike. With so little fanfare beforehand, watching Kendall actually get up there on the world stage and call his dad out for what he is feels like watching a dog suddenly stand on its hind legs and speak fluent Latin.

I reviewed the season finale of Succession for Decider. I liked it, though people need to calm way down about this thing. As I say elsewhere in the review, dramedies are the coward’s drama.

The chickens have sailed home to roost. Written by series creator Jesse Armstrong and directed by series mainstay Mark Mylod, this week’s episode of Succession sees the long-simmering cruise-ship sex-abuse scandal storyline bear fruit, as the Roys and their lackeys are called to testify before the Senate to answer for their crimes. Now, this is Succession, so you know ahead of time nothing will come of it. But the Roys are generally at their most compelling when they’re forced to pretend to be normal humans during the rare occasions when other people have a leg up on them, and this is one of those occasions. It’s worth taking a little time to savor.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Succession, which I liked better than most, for Decider.

As if a giant clamshell washed ashore and birthed it nude and radiant from my mind’s own womb, this week’s episode of Succession felt like it was crafted to illustrate my argument that the show’s blend comedy and drama is fundamentally unworkable by the gods themselves. It’s an hour-length demonstration of how going for the cheap and easy laugh can neuter sociopolitical critique and reduce deft character work to hamfisted about-faces a daytime soap would look down on.

[…]

Anyway, I’m sure Kendall’s stupid rap is the toast of Twitter, right up there with the joke about j-school grads writing clickbait (“Ten Reasons Why You’re Never Getting Paid”) and a brief mention of the Democratic Socialists of America. In terms of middling political shows, Succession is The West Wing for people who’ve tweeted about how much they dislike The West Wing, and it just aired its answer to “The Jackal.” Tweet away.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Succession for Decider.

Doesn’t this get tiresome for people other than me? Like, don’t you want a little more variety in your comedy-drama hybrid than fucking dick jokes an average of once every ten minutes like clockwork? Is that really and truly the only way the venality and machismo of the ultra-rich can be conveyed via humor? Dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick? (“How many dicks is that?” “A lot.”)

I reviewed episode seven of Succession Season 2 for Decider.

As satire, this is pretty thin gruel. Succession has precisely one target audience: The kind of people who know enough about what Aspen and Davos are to want to make fun of them, but who are never going to be at any risk of actually attending them. Perhaps you’ve seen these people all the way up and down your Twitter feed. Perhaps you are one of these people! If so, pat yourself on the back, because someone finally invited you to see how the other half lives. God, look at these assholes, amirite? Pass the vape pen.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Succession, which was actually better than most despite my continued reservations about its overall quality, for Decider.

The confab between the broods does afford a few members of the cast an opportunity to stretch their acting muscles, in some cases for the first time…maybe ever? I’m thinking in particular of Brian Cox as Logan. As formidable an actor as it gets—have you seen what he did with Hannibal Lecter in Manhunter? because if not, stop the fucking presses and get on that—Cox does nothing on this show but growl in the same cadence a few dozen times an episode.

But in this scenario, he can’t bully and bluster his way through things; if the Pierces are determined to make him eat a shit sandwich, and they are, he must do so with a smile and say “thank you” in his gentlest tone of voice. Getting caught off guard when Rhea (Holly Hunter), his ostensible go-between with the Pierces, drives up the price they’d already agreed to is the most interesting thing I’ve seen happen with the character to date.

The other acting highlight, and this should come as no surprise to anyone who’s been paying attention since his character is the only one who’s written like a human being, is Jeremy Strong as Kendall. As usual, he comes across as painfully pensive, as if he has to examine every syllable he utters for razor blades like candy from a stranger before he lets it slip from his mouth.

Kendall quickly strikes up a…let’s say a kinship with Naomi Pierce (Annabelle Dexter-Jones, rueful and soulful), the Pierces’ equivalent addict. They snort some rails, pound some vodka, nearly take off in the Logans’ helicopter, and fuck in its back seat. Their connection feels sad, sexy, and true.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Succession for Decider. It’s a little better than the norm in places, but it’s still a sitcom with delusions of grandeur.

Is Succession a TV show, or just a summary of stuff you’ve read on Twitter? This is the unpleasant question each new episode forces us to ask ourselves. “Safe Room,” so called because of the locations to which the Roy family are spirited after a shooting incident at the ATN news network (turns out it was just some guy committing suicide because working there is so awful), is a collection of topics you’ve seen blue-checkmark accounts tut-tut about, wired together by dick jokes.

[…]

Logan and Gerri panic over antifa, Connor and Willa attend the funeral for a thinly veiled Jeffrey Epstein analogue, white nationalist talk show hosts, mass-shooting paranoia, the collapse of legacy news media into the maw of reactionary conglomerates, yes yes yes, we get it. It really does feel like Twitter: The Television Show, because in the end, Succession doesn’t have anything interesting to say about any of these phenomena other than “Look, these phenomena exist.” At this point, that’s almost all there is to be said about, Succession, too.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Succession for Decider. I don’t care for this show.

Jokes? Succession’s got jokes, are you kidding? Succession fuckin’ loves jokes! Succession’s like a big fuckin’ joke-shaped dick, squirting out hot loads of joke sperm, you dumb bastard. “No one is gonna wanna tackle a big angry pufferfish bristling with dick.” “I don’t wanna get into a dick-measuring competition, but I have a better, more powerful dick than you.” “This is about as choreographed as fucking a dog on roller skates.” Jokes, Greg!

“Hunting,” the wearying third episode of Succession’s second season, goes on much like that for the duration. Which is how the whole series has gone on, pretty much: overwrought obscenity delivered as the punchline to a slow and winded setup. No matter who’s talking—that’s Tom, Roman, and Logan above respectively, not that it matters—the jokes come out the same.

This is true even without the crutch of inventive cussing to lean on. Here’s Greg, for example, enthusing about his first flight on a private jet: “It’s like I’m in a band! A very white, very wealthy band. It’s like I’m in U2!” Here’s the windup…and the windup…and the windup…aaaaand the pitch. The idea, I suppose, is that by the time the jokes get where they’re going you’re caught up in the huff-and-puff rhythm and primed to receive whatever they throw at you. I’m mostly just bored.

I reviewed the third episode of Succession for Decider.

Never let it be said that Succession doesn’t know its audience. Effusively chattered about by New York’s downwardly mobile professional media chatterers, the series this week served up an inside look at its fictional BuzzFeed/Gawker equivalent, “Vaulter.” (The company name doubled as the episode title.)

The fake headlines generated in the storyline about the gutting of a once-promising new media company display the kind of laser-focused contempt that the phrase “it takes one to know one” is meant to cover; whoever came up with “Meet the World’s Richest People Trafficker (He’s a Surprisingly Nice Guy),” “5 Reasons Why Drinking Milk on the Toilet Is Kind of a Game-Changer,” and “Is Every Taylor Swift Song Secretly Marxist?” has a devotée’s, or perhaps even a veteran’s, familiarity with the milieu.

[…]

The thing about the Vaulter storyline is that all the jokes are the obvious ones if you follow the media business at all. Clickbait, SEO, Facebook algorithm changes, unionization, almond milk in the cafeteria, a lot of good-looking twentysomethings with glasses, pivot to video, middle-class marxism, union busting … yes yes, we all get it.

What I don’t get is why jokes so accurate they barely qualify as jokes require such a slovenly wind-up. The looseness of Succession—the improvisatory stop-start feel of the dialogue with all its repetitions and “um”s and “yeah”s, the amount of time spent watching people just walk into rooms, the handheld shakicam and its innate inability to stay steady for long—better befits more nuanced material, where giving the audience the time and freedom to interpret and focus as they will is a necessary component to the filmmaking. Here it just feels…lazy. Like, all this just to say that rich people fuck over the poor(er) people who work for them, especially in digital news media? Billions would do this in a two-sentence exchange between Wags and Dollar Bill and have plenty of room left over for Paul Giamatti in a bondage harness. (Billions is also way too tightly written a show to generate joke headlines like the above, which as funny as they are undercut the vital-to-the-story notion that this might be a business worth saving.)

I wrote about Succession‘s pander-fest of an episode this week for Decider.

Ah yes, television, that escapist medium we turn to for respite from the real world. Instead of watching the rich and powerful loot everyone else and getting sad about it, we can switch on Succession to watch the rich and powerful loot everyone else and have a few laughs!

Or try to, anyway. After a buzzworthy first season (the reach of which far exceeded its grasp), Succession returns for another look at the life of Rupert Murdoch stand-in Logan Roy (Brian Cox), his chief failson and would-be successor Kendall (Jeremy Strong), and the rest of their relatives and retinue. The premiere, titled “The Summer Palace” after the very smelly mansion in which much of it takes place (we’ll get to that), is the kind of thing you’ll like a lot if you liked this kind of thing the last time around. Skeptics, and I’ll cop to being one, will find the same frustrations.

I’m covering Succession for Decider again this year, starting with my review of the season premiere.

You know the bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where between the coconut jokes there’s a historian narrator who gets killed by a knight, and then there’s a modern-day police investigation, and then King Arthur gets arrested for murder? Succession is like that but for serious.

I reviewed the season finale of Succession for Decider. It makes a mistake it’s impossible for this show ever to recover from, no matter how good Jeremy Strong and Matthew Macfadyen and Nicholas Braun are. Just a shocking lack of perspective. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

Braun is so good at portraying (possibly improvising?) Greg’s perpetual state of flummoxedness that his garbled manner of formal speech — “Is there doubt afoot?” — has become the stuff of catchphrases in spite of itself. Macfadyen is just as strong cruelly toying with Greg or barking at the help as he is tormenting himself over whether or not Shiv is cheating on him; he makes it clear that neither side is the “real” Tom, because both stem from the same underlying insecurities and bottomless need to feel validated. And watching Strong sidle into faceoffs with Brian Cox’s Logan or Eric Bogosian’s Gil or especially Natalie Gold’s Rava is straight-up thrilling at this point, like watching a man who’s always half a step behind what the coke and adrenaline in his bloodstream and the butterflies in his stomach are making him say try and catch up in real time. I could watch a bonafide Tom and Greg antibuddy comedy, or an actual prestige drama about Kendall. For the first time since the pilot, I think it’s possible Succession might be able to do both.

I wrote about the penultimate episode of Succession Season One for Decider. Jeremy Strong, Nicholas Braun, and Matthew Macfadyen are the show’s breakout stars no question, but for the first time the series did right by Sarah Snook’s Shiv, too. Overall it was the most I’ve enjoyed the show since the pilot.

Succession should find a way to set every episode in the most aggressively obnoxious places possible. That’s the lesson I’m drawing from “Prague,” its eighth episode, which does not take place in Prague at all. Rather, it’s set almost entirely in the faux-grimy confines of a subterranean/off-the-grid warehouse-party quasi-orgy for the rich and…well, the rich. At the behest of Stewy, the sleazy private-equity guy who wormed his way into the company on Kendall’s behalf and then kicked his old friend to the curb when it suited him, Roman has selected this environment, known as Rhomboid (“New York’s hottest club is Rhomboid,” I can hear Stefon saying even now), for his simpering future brother-in-law Tom’s bachelor party. “Is it cool, or is it, like, total fucking bullshit?” Roman asks as they enter. “Who knows!” One thing’s for sure: It gives the collection of assembled dickheads invited to the party their best opportunity yet to be shady and shitty in very funny ways.

For Tom, played by the magnificent Matthew Macfadyen, this mostly means enthusing with uncomfortable manic glee over his free pass from his fiancee Shiv to get up to some shenanigans. After abandoning his childhood friends (they’re not on the guest list), he spends the evening alternately shouting over the music to various in-laws about “splooge” and worrying about whether Shiv also has a free pass (if he only knew!). Mercifully, his exploits, if they happened at all, are reported to us rather than shown. Suffice it to say that by the end, the entire family has congratulated him on “swallowing your own load.” Just the kind of impression you want to make on the people you’ll be seeing at Christmas every year!

I reviewed episode eight of Succession for Decider. It’s the best one since the pilot, primarily because Matthew Macfadyen’s character spends most of the episode talking about his own semen.

As for Shiv’s assignation with her ex-boyfriend turned new colleague Nate, everything I said about it last week still stands: Sex between ciphers is definitionally not hot. Note that this is different from saying sex between strangers is definitionally not hot. When you don’t know someone, the element of anonymity and mystery involved in watching them fuck is erotic. We know Shiv and Nate just fine, and that’s the problem, since there’s nothing to know. They’re not idealists, that’s for sure. Nor are they monsters like Logan or scoundrels like Roman or just repulsive like Tom. They’re barely pragmatists, since that would imply goals, and we don’t have any clue what attracted them to politics since they express no actual political viewpoints. Shiv says whatever will get a rise out of the person she’s currently trying to act tough toward and reverses course without compunction when the need passes, hence going to work for a guy she jokingly called Stalin and less jokingly called too radical within about five minutes of meeting him. Nate himself comes right out and says, “I don’t believe in anything.”

Nate and Shiv are dull, the way only people who are handed everything in the world and can’t be bothered to use the spare time to develop even the most rudimentary and idiosyncratic beliefs or personalities can be dull. Under normal circumstances? The lay-it-on-the-line, “I want to fuck you, here’s where and when we can do it” transactional flirting, the all-business hand-down-the-pants initiation of intimacy—whoa nellie. Here it’s like watching the weather report. I’m supposed to get hot for this? Heroes, villains, rogues, by all means have at it, but orgasms for bores I will not abide.

[…]

I’ll tell you what works here, beautifully and unequivocally, or rather I’ll tell you who works: Jeremy Strong as Kendall Roy. Watching him handle the prodigal son’s near-instantaneous collapse of sobriety (aided and abetted by his dad planting stories that he was running through the street muttering about a coup; now we know the plot purpose of his otherwise unnecessary dash through the streets) is gripping stuff. Once he makes the decision to leap off the wagon, he’s in it all the way. He’s determined to have a great time, and so he does, whether he’s chatting with the locals, calling his brother with the firmness of purpose of the incredibly high, disrupting the family gathering, goading his father into near violence, or just kicking back in the wilderness enjoying the coke and the view.

Strong handles all of this with restraint and without cliche, from the anger, frustration, and feigned toughness as he takes the plunge to the chemical relaxation and goofy good cheer that follows. The irony is that in the ease of his interaction with the local burnouts, whom everyone else in his family would (and in Roman’s case, does) treat like sentient dogshit, you can see him find even more ways to convey Kendall’s innate, if relative, decency. In fact, when one of the methheads gives Roman shit in turn, Ken sticks up for him, too. It’s like watching a performance from Deadwood show up on Petticoat Junction. On this show there’s Strong and then there’s everyone else.

I reviewed episode seven of Succession, in which I disliked the sex and liked Jeremy Strong, for Decider.

We’ve reached a Pivotal Episode. It’s Succession Episode 6, “Which Side Are You On?”, and my understanding is that after watching it, a whole lot of viewers were firmly on Succession‘s side. This is a Tony vs. Uncle Junior type situation, in which a quartet of coup plotters — Kendall, Roman, Frank, and Gerri — make their move against Logan in a vote of no confidence brought before his company board. Their hope is to remove him before he embarrasses himself and destroys the company. It does not go well, and unfortunately I mean that in every sense.

I reviewed the sixth episode of Succession, aka The One with the Board Meeting, for Decider. It’s rare for me to be as immediately pleased with a piece of writing as I was with this, so I hope you’ll read check it out. It was a chance for me to hash out pretty much everything I think works (some) and doesn’t (most) in the series. Pros include strong comic performances by Matthew Macfadyen, Kieran Culkin, and Nicholas Braun, and some truly powerful work by Jeremy Strong as the show’s sole real dramatic role. Cons include flummoxing camerawork and plotting, a disconnect where the show’s main erotic energy is located, and a music-cue misfire for the ages.

It’s Thanksgiving Day on Succession, and you know what that means: Logan Roy knocking a child to the ground by hitting him across the face with a metal can.

Wait—what?

Generally I find complaints along the lines of “who wants to watch a show about assholes” either misguided, in the sense that assholes generate conflict and conflict is the stuff of drama, or childish, in the sense that large segments of the modern audience want problematic characters depicted Goofus & Gallant–style with unmistakable indicators that good behavior is good and bad behavior is bad, or not depicted at all, which is the stuff of shows made for literal toddlers. I presume that you, dear reader, are neither so squeamish nor so juvenile in your tastes. And neither am I!

Yet “I Went to Market,” the fifth episode of Succession‘s first season, sorely tests even the patience of a guy who lists The Texas Chain Saw Massacre as one of his favorite films. Another episode of everyone in the Roy family and its orbit (with the slight exceptions of ostensible heir Kendall, his estranged wife Rava, and corporate consigliereFrank) acting like complete monsters, culminating in actual physical child abuse of the sort punishable by law, with no end in sight?

I reviewed episode five of Succession, a show I’m having a harder and harder time getting anything out of, for Decider.

This week (technically several weeks ago, but you get the point) on Succession…well, a lot of stuff happened that I’m gonna race through because four episodes into this series and the joke is getting a bit old, isn’t it? All of the Roys and all of their employees, with the possible exception of Kendall, are pieces of shit who’d trip over their dicks on the way to the soda machine, let alone attempting to run a major international corporation and all its attendant charity balls and political campaigns and what have yous.

I’m up to episode four of my Succession for Latecomers review series at Decider, and I’m kind of over it. There’s an interesting bit with Kendall, though, that I go over in some detail. See what you think.

This reveals the limits of the sitcom as a form as far as investigating human nature is concerned. (And that’s what really concerns me as a critic, I’m sad to say.) Simply put, characters in sitcoms are not characters as we understand them to exist in dramas. They are joke delivery mechanisms, and their prime directive is to be funny. If that comes at the expense of recognizable human behavior, it’s all in the game, man. (To be clear, being funny is itself a recognizable human behavior, but not when it requires all other concerns to bend to that goal.)

The problem arises when people, many critics among them, ignore this basic structural tenet of the genre and start looking to comedy for life lessons and moral instruction.

My Succession Reviews for Latecomers series for Decider continues with a look at episode three, in which I realize you people have tricked me into watching a sitcom.

Naturally, Kendall’s ability to keep needs other than his own in mind leads his siblings — even the relatively disengaged literal brother from another mother, Connor, who spends most of his time either spouting New Agey bullshit or making out with a girlfriend young enough to be his daughter — to label him weak. To them, and to his father as well, looking out for anything or anyone but Number One is weakness. As my partner put it to me, no wonder Kendall’s the one with the drug problem. He’s the only member of the family who seems to feel any emotional toll from their insane wealth and responsibility.

He also gets a boner when his ex-wife gives him a hug to comfort him. Pobody’s nerfect!

My Succession for Slowpokes series at Decider continues with my review of episode two, focusing on the so-far surprising humanity of theoretical chosen son Kendall.

Succession is a very funny television program. That’s a relief, since it was created by Peep Show and The Thick of It‘s Jesse Armstrong and directed by Anchorman‘s Adam McKay (working in his Big Short vein); it weren’t funny, that would be kind of troubling. But I’d like to start this Succession Episode 1 review of its premiere by discussing a scene that isn’t funny at all.

Which I do, at length, as I start my coverage of Succession for Decider. I know, I know, we’re getting a late start. But so are a lot of viewers, it seems. Climb aboard!