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The rest of the family, whose yacht vacation is unfortunately truncated, tries to decide how to respond, and which country without an extradition treaty to abscond to. At the first episode’s opening, Kendall (Jeremy Strong) and Greg (Nicholas Braun) are in New York, having just publicly exposed Waystar Royco and Logan’s various crimes in a press conference. There’s little animating tension in scenes that have essentially played out before. But for me, Season 3 reveals some wear in a concept that once felt rousingly original.
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Maybe it’s churlish to complain about a series that’s still consistently better written and more refreshingly caustic than anything else on TV. Read: Why Season 2 of Succession was so extraordinary Mired in the safe spaces of penthouses and hotel suites and private jets, it all feels snippily familiar. Season 3, though, is more like a redo of the show’s debut, wherein the children of Logan Roy (Brian Cox) scratch and claw as they try yet again to commandeer his empire. Each episode functioned almost as a one-act play, marching inevitably toward implosion.
The second season worked so well because the Roys were repeatedly shoved into the pressure cooker of isolated, unknown environments: a hunting lodge, a safe room, the family estate of a liberal-media doyenne, a mountainside symposium. The coronavirus pandemic delayed production of the newest nine episodes, seven of which were made available for review, but it seems to have constricted ambitions, too. Some-or much-of this is missing in Season 3. Brutality and fate and ritualistic violence are never far from the surface. The setting of Succession is 21st-century Extreme Wealth Island, but the mood is ancient Greece. A four-minute conversation in the sixth episode, “Argestes,” between Shiv, one scion of the wealthy Roy family (played by Sarah Snook), and the fixer Rhea Jarrell (Holly Hunter) was almost incidental in terms of plot, and yet the palpable hostility between the two women conveyed infinitely more than was in the script. You perhaps remember less about the specifics of each scene than the visceral feeling of watching them. Watching Succession’s second season, which to my mind is one of the most dexterous and enthralling seasons of television in recent history, was like an immersion in all the different ways tension can manifest on-screen: a loaded conversation between two people, a fraught family event, a hunting excursion during which executives literally scuffle to bring home the bacon.
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