The end of Succession leaves a Waystar Royco-sized hole in our hearts. With the various Roys scattered, licking their wounds, where can bereft fans turn for their regular dose of acid insults, soapy skulduggery and privileged misery grounded by occasional glimpses of human vulnerability and warmth? We have a few
Miss Succession already? Here’s what to watch next
By Margaret Lyons
New York Times·
5 mins to read
Now that the Roys have shuffled offstage, what should you watch next? Photo / Supplied
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The Roys and the Gemstones, a family of televangelists, are inside-out versions of one another: A bombastic, volatile but wildly successful dad reigns over an empire that his desperate, indulged children will inherit if they don’t all kill each other first. Bickering and jockeying abound, fuelled by the mutually understood but outwardly denied reality that no one in the second generation is truly up to the task. They all compensate with glorious, vulgar insults. The daughter is married to a bumbling oaf, whom she bullies with real glee. The younger son sublimates his sexuality. The older son’s ego could pull the Earth off its axis.
In Succession, the stakes are grave, but the characters approach them with flippancy; in Gemstones, the circumstances are absurd, but the characters take them incredibly seriously. The shows share an understanding of the corrupting powers of wealth and a conviction that there is no greater achievement than standing onstage and singing a song. (Misbehavin’ has a leg up on L to the OG, though.) If Succession is an ice bath, The Righteous Gemstones is a slip-n-slide, but the water is springing from the same source.
My favourite character is Kendall
BoJack Horseman
Where to watch: Netflix
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BoJack is, like Kendall, a character with a history of serious drug abuse, whose carelessness has led to people’s deaths, who will never be able to compensate for the absence of his parents’ love. He is mean and very funny, and also jaded, vulnerable and able to deliver a searing, soaring eulogy. They each have their Gatsby-in-the-pool moments, their long memories and deep pockets. Heck, Kendall even says he’s thinking of “hitting up some ‘BoJack’ guys” to write his tweets.
BoJack and Succession share a thrilling attention to detail — production design meant for obsessive pausing and screenshotting, with a particular knack for tickers at the bottom of inane cable-news shows. (“‘Speak English!’ Yells Patriot at Soy Milk.”) Succession has Vaunter-as-Gawker; BoJack has Girl Croosh-as-BuzzFeed.
I want more Sarah Snook
The Beautiful Lie
Where to watch: Netflix
This six-part Australian miniseries is a modern-day adaptation of Anna Karenina, with Sarah Snook starring as the ill-fated lead. As Shiv, Snook is all tiny trembles and self-containment, but as Anna, her performance is grander, wider, far more open; this Anna is reckless in ways Shiv would never be. Some of Anna’s smiles are even warm and genuine! The show itself is soapy in a good way, full of beachy horniness and angry fights.
I want more Matthew Macfadyen
Quiz
Where to watch: Neon
Macfadyen delivers a different version of a doofy husband in this terrific three-part British docudrama miniseries about the creation of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? and the cheating scandal it begot.
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Charles Ingram (Macfadyen) is an army major whose wife, Diana (Sian Clifford), is a trivia buff who convinces him to go on Millionaire, where he wins 1 million pounds. But something seems off — could that guy really know those answers? Or was he being tipped off with a cough from a conspirator in the audience? The show itself is a tight, twisty ride, and it is additional evidence of Macfadyen’s mastery of “wait … is that guy dumber than he seems, or smarter than he seems?”
I want something just as cynical and media-focused but with a different vibe
I Hate Suzie
Where to watch: Neon
Cocreated by Succession writer Lucy Prebble, Suzie centres on a former child star turned B-list actress (played by Billie Piper, the show’s other creator) whose life implodes when intimate photos of her are leaked to a tabloid. In Season 2, she crawls her way back into the public’s good graces with a stint on a dance competition series, though that carries its own emotional costs.
Both shows love to play off what viewers “hope” will happen, and their disciplined refusal to give over to the more familiar contours of happy endings and redemption make them richer and more fraught. The Roys, and Suzie, read a lot of their own press, often struggling to see themselves anywhere other than in reflection.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
Written by: Margaret Lyons
©2023 THE NEW YORK TIMES
