**[Warning: Contains spoilers for the Succession series finale]**

The epic tour de force that is HBO’s hit series Succession (2018-2023), ended this week in a spectacle of classical tragedy, full of dramatic devices and Shakespearean themes solidifying its highbrow cultural status.

In Aristotelian theory, three hallmarks of classical tragedy are:

hamartia: a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine;
peripeteia: a sudden reversal of fortune or change in circumstances;
anagnorisis: where a principal character recognises or discovers another character's true identity or the true nature of their own circumstances.

While it might be tempting to assign one element to each of the three (of four) Logan siblings who present as would-be successors to the Waystar Royco conglomerate, the characters more aptly combine these features collectively. Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong), second son and heir apparent to the Roy media empire, is thwarted in the final hour (peripeteia) by his sister Shiv (Sarah Snook), who is revealed to be capable of the cruelest possible betrayal to seize the most control (anagnorisis). While all three children share the fatal flaws of fiery ambition and crippling insecurity (hamartia), it is the final realisation voiced by Roman (Kieran Culkin)—that none of them are fit to be Logan Roy’s successor (anagnorisis)—which cements the truth of their combined identity and circumstance, as weak successors to a powerful man.

The Shakespearean Roy Legacy

The Shakespearean nature of Succession—its blending of genres, storylines, character dynamics, rhetoric and concepts from the plays—gives the series its dramatic force and gravitas. The formidable and loathsome Logan Roy (from the French roi, meaning ‘king’), played to perfection by Brian Cox, is at once a massive, cutthroat Henry VIII and a vain and blind King Lear. Roy’s American kingdom is a patriarchal dynasty which demands both sycophancy and callousness from his children, with their dependency breeding a ruthless infighting that none of them have the strength, stomach or skill to dominate. The Roy siblings share a desire to gain the love and approval of their ‘world of a father’, who views them as ‘not serious people’. Kendall’s sense of destiny is plagued with constant self-doubt, the unqualified Hamlet figure—constantly bathing in, and finally staring out at his own sea of troubles. Strong’s seamless portrayal of Kendall’s pained bravado evokes an acute pathos and dramatic irony, such that the audience wishes heartily for his success, while knowing he is doomed to fail.

Succession also features a festival of clown figures in the yes-men that swarm and feed off the Roy monarchy. Where Shiv's husband, Tom (Matthew Macfadyen), the most repugnant brand of toady, provides the most comedy throughout the series—particularly in his Gravediggers dynamic with the hapless family leech, Greg—he is ironically elevated to the coveted CEO position through his treasonous pandering to Matsson (Alexander Skarsgård)—and by Shiv’s explicit ‘Lady Macbeth’ power move. The final image of them sitting unhappily side by side, in the back their chauffeured car, evokes the image of a modern pair of thrones. As Tom lays out his hand, Shiv lays hers on his—a loveless sign of regal unity. The fact that Tom, a vile bootlicker, is the one to become Logan Roy’s successor, cements the Succession series as a tragic farce.

In the end, it is the youngest sibling, Roman, who is most hurt and most liberated by the twisted outcome of the Roy family battle for succession. Throughout the series, Roman’s wit is the most caustic—his stream of one-liners serving to mock himself, his family and the entire business of their lives and entourage. Yet underneath his sarcasm is a perceptible softness—a fragility that collapses in the stressful wake of their father’s death. Emerging as the wise fool of the series, Roman voices the tragic truth of their lives to Kendall, outside the board meeting where he has been voted down: ‘It’s f*** all, man. It’s bits of glue and broken shows…phony news…. It’s nothing, it’s just nothing… I’m telling you this because I know it. OK? We’re nothing, OK. OK.’ While this realisation confirms the satirical nature of the series—with Waystar Royco parodying Rupert Murdoch's News Corp—it also ends the Roy battle on self-nullifying note, akin to Macbeth’s nihilistic reflection that life ‘is a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing.’

Ultimately the illusory nature of the media as a theatrical form, and the performative nature of life, are the Shakespearean concepts that fortify and amplify Succession, making it one of the best TV series ever, in reminding its audience to be skeptical—both of what powerful people seem to be, and of the perceived greatness of concentrated wealth in our time.