Logan’s Shadow Darkens The Dramatic Finale Of ‘Succession’

The finale of HBO’s Succession ended in tragedy and farce, with the Roy siblings losing the game, having never really understood the rules in the first place.

Despite flickers of emotional growth, the three are still stuck under the shadow of their abusive father, Logan Roy, whose kindest assessment of them might have been: “I love you. But you are not serious people.”

Warning: Spoilers for the season finale of Succession ahead

Logan died halfway through season 4, but the tyrannical patriarch’s poisonous presence was felt until the very end. Logan built Waystar Royco from the ground up, and set the siblings against each other in a perpetual fight to inherit it, as if the strongest would emerge from the scrap.

The Roys never managed to transcend the toxic dynamic their father cultivated. But the finale teases a possible unification, with the three siblings watching footage of their late father at his best, bonding over their shared grief.

For once, the three are united, agreeing to back Kendall’s bid to inherit the crown. Roman knew it was never going to be him, and even Shiv is convinced, having suffered a betrayal from Matsson.

For a blissful moment, the three act like siblings, anointing their big brother in the holy ooze of a smoothie. We get a brief glimpse of the childhood that they never really had; the image of the children in the show’s opening credits, dressed in stiff formal-wear, implies that those bygone days were far from carefree.

The Roys have spent their adult life pursuing the inheritance that Logan dangled over their heads, Kendall completely molding himself to fit into the role his father promised him. Logan might have viewed seven-year-old Kendall as his successor, but as his son grew, so did Logan’s disappointment.

From the first season, it was clear that Logan didn’t actually want to name a successor, as doing so would mean losing control. A good parent wants their child to flourish, to outgrow and eclipse them, but Logan wanted his children to remain squished under his thumb. Amusingly, he couldn’t hide his contempt for the spineless, pampered fools they grew into.

Logan’s cancerous media empire was antagonistic to the interests of the working class, but he wielded his humble background as a weapon, a credential that his employees and children lacked. At one point, he demanded that they name the price of milk, knowing perfectly well that no one in the room (including himself) would ever enter a grocery store. He shouts: “You’re all a bunch of silk-stocking f**ks. I’m surrounded by snakes and f**king morons!”

The poetic irony of the show is that Logan deliberately raised his children in a manner which ensured that none would ever gain his respect, or manage to develop their own identity beyond the company (aside from Connor, who wisely chose to stay out of it).

The three might be fabulously wealthy and connected, but they are not free; they view the top job at Waystar Royco as the only legitimate role they could aspire to.

Shiv, ever the performative liberal, gave up any pretense of being on the right side of history and took the side of whoever was winning, regardless of ideology. Kendall never pretended to have higher ideals, but he betrayed his own family, backing a fascist presidential candidate whose rise threatened the safety of his children.

Roman seemed set to inherit the cursed empire, but completely collapsed after Logan’s death, having never developed a strong sense of self.

When the climatic boardroom scene arrives, Kendall has made every compromise imaginable, and is on the verge of winning the required votes. Of course, at the very last minute, the lifetime of sibling rivalry bubbles over, and Shiv just can’t bring herself to vote for her brother.

The three explode in a humiliating display of resentment and incompetence, with Shiv desperately throwing out excuses to deny Kendall the position, and Kendall reduced to screaming: “I’m the eldest boy!”

The conflict spirals from there, as the shadow of Logan lingers from beyond the grave, splintering them just as they needed to stay united. Roman points out that Kendall might be the “eldest boy,” but Logan didn’t view Kendall’s family as legitimate, because his children are adopted.

Logan’s twisted beliefs shouldn’t matter at this point — the man is dead and gone — but his hateful words prompt Kendall and Roman into a pathetic slap-fight, and the chance to inherit Waystar Royco is lost. The game is over, and Matsson has won.

The Roy siblings are left fragmented; Roman is back where he started, wounded and nursing Gerri’s favorite drink, still seeking a mother (or father) figure to bully him into submission, seemingly unable to feel anything else.

Shiv chooses to commit to a loveless marriage with Tom, who, unlike the Roy siblings, always understood how to play the game. Tom’s pragmatic approach won him the role of Matsson’s right-hand man, leaving Shiv stuck on the sidelines of her father’s legacy, likely doomed to repeat the mistakes of her parents.

Kendall is alone and adrift, his life’s goal having been snatched away, a goal set by his father when he was just seven. This could be interpreted as a happy ending, as Kendall is finally free from the weight of Logan’s expectations, no longer tethered to a hateful media empire.

The tragedy is, Kendall will never see it that way.