Siobhan Roy

Is it possible that even Jesse Armstrong Doesn’t Get Shiv?

1. Can you create a character you don’t understand?

(Above quotes are from“Controlling the Narrative” post-show documentary, said by Jesse Armstrong, creator and head writer of “Succession”)

Presumptuous of me, I know, to claim I understand Shiv Roy better than Jesse Armstrong. He created her, after all.

But on the other hand, Shiv is not entirely Jesse Armstrong’s creation.

Sarah Snook gave Shiv life too: with how she chose to read her lines, with her face, with her walk, with her gestures, with her intonations, and even with her pregnant body—a “fact” about Shiv that was integrated into the final season’s scripts only after Sarah Snook became pregnant. It was always possible to hide it (as was done pretty successfully in several episodes) but Armstrong decided not to, and built it into the narrative.

Shiv has a “cultural” life, too, in the hearts and minds of viewers who have interpreted and commented on her throughout the seasons. In my substacks, which cover all of this seasons episodes, I’ve written a lot—often critically—of how she has been received by those viewers. I’m not going to repeat those criticisms or my own interpretations of Shiv in this post; if you’re interested, my discussions can be found here.

In this post, I’m going to focus on the finale. It was brilliant, it was heartbreaking, it had some of the most memorable, most haunting moments of the entire series. You don’t need me to go over any of that; journalists, media critics, and social media commentators have spent the last two days summarizing the plot, quoting the “best” lines, expressing their satisfaction and dissatisfaction with the ending.

I thought the ending was exactly what it needed to be. I’ve always seen Succession as a tragedy, albeit one conveyed by way of the most astute, clever satire, and I often was irritated by the way “power rankings” and “funniest lines,” as entertaining as those were, dominated commentary and conversations. So I never expected any of the siblings to become CEO. The last substack I wrote, after the funeral episode, was essentially about how none of them could “be Logan,” and perhaps (as Nate once said to Kendall) that was a good thing (although of course only in the long run; for the finale itself, it would have to be presented as a tragic resolution). I had fantasies about Shiv transforming ATN, preventing it from becoming a Fox, but as for Kendall and Roman: no way.(You can read my reasons in last week’s substack.)

So I wasn’t expecting a fairy-tale ending, which might have satisfied character-identified fans but wouldn’t have been in keeping with the shape of the series— or the critique of the scary real-life context that was always hovering, although few of the episodes (“America Decides” being the most striking exception) made the comparisons unavoidable. Still, I was surprised to wake up the next morning in tears, feeling silly to be so emotionally wrecked by a television show. “I feel embarrassed,” I told Edward, who was kind to let me ramble on while he cooked his oatmeal. And as I free-associated to my feelings, I realized that I was also in a kind of frustrated rage—not about the ending itself (as some others were) but about the discussions around it, which I’d stayed up late to read.

Even before I’d scanned the internet and social media, I’d listened to Jesse Armstrong talk about the finale on the “Controlling the Narrative” documentary that followed every episode. And was astounded to hear him describe Shiv, at the end of the episode, as in a “terrifying, frozen, emotionally barren place.”

Armstong—so astute, so brilliant a writer—didn’t seem to be aware of how discordant the word “barren” is, applied to a very pregnant woman. Or if he was aware, what would that signify about his attitude toward pregnancy. Did it not matter at all in his conception of the character? Does he think pregnancy is just a nine-month inconvenience? Had Shiv’s pregnancy just been a not-very-deeply-thought-out accommodation to the actual fact of Sarah Snook’s pregnancy? “Frozen”? With her own body changing every day? Or did Shiv exist for Armstrong only in relation to Tom and to her male siblings? I don’t want to think this about Armstrong—but I also know, from my years as an academic if nothing else, that brilliance is not protection against the blind-spots of gender. Not to push the point against Armstrong too far, but in some ways, Shiv-as-pregnant seems to be an irrelevancy, except insofar as it affects others (like Tom, her mother, and Matsson.) She doesn’t even ever throw up!

Listening to Armstrong describe Shiv as “emotionally barren” and “frozen” was deeply disillusioning for me. Even in relation to Tom—leaving her pregnancy aside—how could the man who presumably wrote the scene in which Shiv asks Tom if he sees any “positive” in their “shared nightmare” see Shiv as “frozen”? Here we have a painfully proud, habitually guarded woman exposing herself—haltingly, awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with any direct expression of need, afraid of the rejection she’s armored herself against all her life—asking if Tom sees a future for them in a “real relationship.”

Frozen??? This is a breakthrough moment for Shiv, and it comes, not after but before she learns of Matsson’s plans. Tom is still in high anxiety about the possibility he’ll lose his job, Shiv is on top of the world, there’s no “strategic” need for her to cozy up to him.

Why does she? Well…maybe she loves him? Maybe she’s sorry for the wretched things she’s said and done? Maybe, as she says, she’s been “scared” (another hugely difficult thing for Shiv to admit) to have her “underneath” exposed? Shiv never, ever admits to being scared, her pride is such a big part of her armor. Recall that when she falls down the stairs, she rebuffs all attempts to help her. She scoffs derisively when Kendall asks her, in the conference room, if she’s scared. She won’t even let her brothers “look at her” when she finds out about Matsson’s dumping her. When Tom says he doesn’t know whether they have a future, the rapidity with which she shuts down her ask shows just how much it cost her to be to be the asker rather than the one who is asked. How hard it is for her to be vulnerable. Watch Sarah Snook’s performance in the scene; then ask yourself whether this is a “frozen, emotionally barren” woman.

2. Why did Shiv change her mind about the vote?

In the Succession podcast with Kara Swisher, Jeremy Strong ventures the theory that Shiv and Roman change their minds about Kendall becoming CEO because “I think they just can’t tolerate seeing Kendall win. I think what they perceive as his sort of grandiosity and self-importance and putting his feet up on dad’s desk—they can’t stomach it.” He also suggests Shiv “may have betrayed Kendall as payback for his failure to support his sister during the presidential election when Kendall took Roman’s side and helped elect a far-right fascist as U.S. President.”

“There is payback happening…and it knocked the wind out of me. It felt unjust.”

Strong is a method actor, and was deeply immersed in and identified with the character he played—as he would be the first to admit. So perhaps he can be forgiven for his lack of clarity about whether these comments are still Kendall speaking, or Strong’s own assessment of Shiv and Roman’s motivations. But Strong is not alone—not by a long shot—in attributing less-than-admirable reasons for Shiv’s change of mind. The most frequent interpretation (and I’ve read hundreds of them) is that Shiv, having found out that Tom will be CEO, does a recalculation/calibration and realizes her bread is buttered on that side.

There’s nothing surprising to me about these comments; I’ve gotten used to the most selfish motivations being attributed to Shiv. But let me tell you how I see things.

First of all, Shiv doesn’t immediately “decide” to switch sides. She’s been watching Kendall, swiveling like a toddler in the big man chair, then shmoozing like bros with the craven Stewy, then pompously chairing the board meeting as though his leadership was all settled, nothing to talk about here, I’m the man.

When it’s her turn to vote, she says she needs some time.

Needs some time. Needs to think. Needs “a moment.” And why shouldn’t she? The three of them have been caught up in the swirl of “non-serious” reactions: Shiv’s fury at Matsson, then—having agreed to “anoint” Kendall as King—the delight of bonding like little kids again in mommy’s kitchen, then the discovery that “it’s going to be Tom.” It’s all happening fast, there’s been no time to be anything but reactive, no time to think it through. No time to be “serious” about it. And Kendall, now that he’s been anointed, is already playing king of the castle for real.

But Kendall isn’t going to permit Shiv time to “have a moment.” He chases her out of the room and demands that she vote for him. I would argue that it’s what ensues that finally decides things for Shiv. I don’t think she’s quite made up her mind yet (after all, Matsson is a scary alternative, too.) So when Kendall forces her to explain herself, she begins pretty mildly: “I don’t think you’d be good at it.” At that point, Kendall begins to implode. Instead of reassuring Shiv, he turns bully/drama queen/baby, exposing all the reasons why he’d not merely “not be good at it” but would be a disaster. He says he’s the “eldest boy.” He says he’ll die if he doesn’t get it—like a little child who was promised a toy for Christmas that isn’t under the tree. He shoves them both—with no care for the fact, as Roman reminds him, that Shiv is pregnant—and violently assaults Roman (whose head is already bleeding from Kendall’s way-too-forceful hug earlier.) When Shiv confronts him with the (very real problem should the facts about the waiter’s drowning, which quite a few people know, get out) that he killed someone, he says it he made it up. (“I false-memoried it.”) This isn’t just a lie; it shows a willingness to do anything to get what he wants. He’s just deconstructed himself right in front of them. (And everyone in the conference room as well, as they can hear virtually every “fuck” he shouts.):

This isn’t “payback” on Shiv and Roman’s part. And it isn’t Shiv deciding she’s got a better future with Tom as CEO. It’s the moment when both she and Roman see things “with open eyes.”

And, as in Greek or Shakespearean tragedy, it’s Kendall’s own fatal failings that turn fate against him.

3. Why did Shiv get in the car with Tom?

There are those who see the ending of the finale as a defeat for Shiv, and a heartbreaking moment for the women who sympathized with her, defended her, called out the misogyny that she continually faced (both from the men in the show and the many Shiv-haters on the internet), and were disappointed to see her become an adjunct to Tom:

…The passive way in which she places her hand on Tom's has left fans feeling heartbroken for the character, who tried so hard to overcome the misogyny she had to deal with so often on the show. For Shiv to win, she had to relinquish the main role to her husband. In Matsson's own words, pregnant Shiv is "the baby lady", while Tom got the job for being "the guy who put the baby inside" her.¹

I’m one of those women who has been a defender of Shiv against the slings and arrows of misogyny, and who throughout the season has tried to offer my own “readings” of her actions against those who view her through the archetypal lens of the lying, manipulative, scheming woman. But I’d like to offer a somewhat more positive spin on Shiv’s future.

Tom, let’s not forget, got the job because he’s willing to “suck the biggest dick in the room” (as Shiv describes him to Matsson, trying to demonstrate her own objectivity—so she’s not seen as just a supportive little wifey) and possibly knowing that it would help keep Tom’s job at head of ATN. She knows Matsson well enough to know he wants dick-suckers around, but she unwisely doesn’t think she’d be disqualified because she isn’t one of them. She hadn’t reckoned with the extent of Matsson ego, possibly seeing him as more confident than he is. He assures her, for example, that a cartoon on the cover of a magazine, with Shiv the puppeteer pulling his strings (btw, a similar cartoon was circulating about Hillary and Bill at once point) was “nothing” and “funny.” But actually, he doesn’t want a woman with her smarts, ideas, and personal dynamism as a partner. He doesn’t want a partner at all. He wants a “pain sponge” and a (self-described) “grinder” like Tom who will absorb the consequences of trouble while Matsson plays and produces fun ideas.

That’s not a job Shiv would want, once she understood the contours of it, which begin to dawn on her when she hears Tom will be CEO. Do I wish it had been offered to her? Fuck, yes. But now that we know what Matsson wants from his lapdog, I would have liked to see her turn it down. I don’t see Shiv happy working for Kendall or Matsson. Kendall is a man-baby and Shiv is going to have a real baby. And Matsson can’t deal with a woman of equal intellectual and personal power.

Playing out the imaginary future, I have confidence that Shiv will find a position that better appreciates and employs her talents. I have confidence in this because my generation of women have often been there, held back from the seat of power, but with a second (or third) act waiting in the wings. Before she entered the Waystar-Royco orbit, Shiv was a successful Democratic strategist. Do you think that just because Tom’s gotten a job as a lackey to Matsson that her life is going to become an adjunct to his? That’s not Shiv. Perhaps she will fulfill my fantasy of her transforming ATN into a non-Fox. Maybe she’ll get involved in Democratic politics again.

Don’t forget, too, that unlike Kendall, Shiv never imagined when growing up that she’d actually be a contender for the Big Job. She got pulled into it, unsure that Logan’s promises were “real” and continually betrayed by both Logan and her brothers. She had no reason to feel, as Kendall does that she’s a machine part that can only fit in one place. She wasn’t promised, at age seven, that she’d inherit the kingdom. Like many women, she’s had to cultivate patience and ingenuity. And she has both.

As far as getting in Tom’s waiting car goes, let me return us to the clip I showed at the beginning of this piece:

Recall that Shiv was the one who asked if a door was open—even before Tom had anything to offer except a “real relationship.” As uncomfortable as it made her, she was reaching out to him.

Tom hurt her at the time with a noncommittal answer. But now, perhaps buoyed by having a little power besides bossing Greg around, he’s bringing the car around for her.

That open car door is a different answer than the one he gave before. It whispers—to say “speaks” would be going too far at this point—of the possibility of a different kind a relationship. And there will be a child, too. And we know that they change everything, and in unpredictable ways.

Continuing the pregnancy was Shiv’s choice. Opening the door up to a “real relationship” was her choice. And as I read the image of her hand, tentatively meeting his, I don’t see “passivity” but pride: “Don’t think you can have me just because you’re CEO now.” She’s still the gladiator, still our girl.

1. Jacob Stolworthy, “Succession theories”, The Independent, Tuesday, May 30th, 2023