“Succession” Watch: Shiv Roy

1.   Roy=Roi

You first have to get the fact that Logan Roy is Henry VIII incarnate. He only seems like a modern-day tycoon. But his modus operandi is pure Tudor dynasty.

Henry, like Logan, could be expansive, generous, fun to be around. But it only lasted so long as he felt assured of the admiration and allegiance of those around him. Thomas More (the heretic-burner or great-man-of-honor, depending on which movie you see) is the expert here. He told his son in law Roper that though he, More, was at the time favored by the King “more singularly” than any subject in the realm, “I have no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head could win him a castle in France, it should not fail to go.” And of course More’s head did eventually go—though not for a castle in France but because More refused to bend to Henry’s voracious will.

Henry VIII has been portrayed and re-portrayed, from Charles Laughton’s chicken-chomper to Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, who refused to wear a fat suit and spoil his lean, mean image. But every version of Henry—including historical documents—depicts a man who could be good-natured one moment and cold as stone the next. Even the closest relationships with him were never on solid ground, always skating on thin ice. And disappointment could never be “slight.” All wounds to his authority, his manhood, his trust, were bloody gashes that he could only repair by annihilating (psychologically or literally) the one who inflicted the wound.

Howard Brenton, author of the play Anne Boleyn, put it in an interview with me: “With Henry, you were either totally in or you were dead. He would have someone close to him, he’d elevate them, and they’d be terrific and virtually run everything on his behalf, and then when something went wrong, or a wind came his way, he would turn 180 degrees against them and they would be out.”

Sound familiar?

Every one of Logan’s children has felt the warmth of his favor at one point or another. And every one has been betrayed. At the very beginning of the season one, Kendall basks in the knowledge that he is the first-born son (sorry, Connor) and has the keys to the kingdom assured. The opening sequence that first season shows Logan with his hands on the shoulders of a suited young man (it’s only in the second season that the other three are added and we now get a line up turning to watch their father pass by rather than the singled out son.)

In the “Rehearsal” episode that depicts events the day before “Connor’s Wedding,” Roman, having secretly gone to visit his dad after the disastrous “family function” (as Kendall spins it to Karl after Logan’s death), cannot hide his pleasure when Logan says “I need you, son.” But the most transformative effect of her father’s embrace is seen when, in the first episode of season 2, Logan tells Shiv that he’s picked her as his successor. When she questions, yet again, whether the offer is “real,” he tells her to remember the shaft of light coming through the window at that moment, and Shiv’s face itself is literally lit up in the scene:

They all will be betrayed. Kendall—several times. And it’s impossible not to feel trepidation witnessing Roman’s pleasure at the end of “Rehearsal,” when Logan urges him to join him revamping ATM. Don’t bite, Romulus! But Logan dies before he can hurt Roman yet again.

The betrayal of Shiv is arguably the most brutal—because she—always on guard, never trusting--was so girlishly transported by Logan’s offer (“Is it real?” How many times does she ask this?) and because when he later demolishes her, it’s never fair. Unlike Kendall, who actually has been plotting against his father, Shiv merely commits the unpardonable sins of (1) usurping her father’s need to be in control of the announcement of his successor (she blurts out “why don’t you just tell them it’s me?” at the Pierce dinner table) and (2) exploring options with the Pierce Media empire (a trap set up by Rhea) while her dad waffles on the job for Shiv:

Then (3): in the first episode of season 3, when Shiv is unsuccessful at nabbing Lisa Arthur, a high-profile lawyer that Kendall had already secured for himself in his battle with Logan, Logan names Gerri as interim CEO. There was no chance of Shiv even beginning a pitch, as Lisa was already hired by Ken.

One is left wondering, as I’m sure Shiv was by then: Was the offer to Shiv ever actually “real”?  

Did Henry VIII mean what he said about being hers forever in his love letters to Anne Boleyn?

2. Well, it sure as fսcking shit doesn't say "Shiv."

There have been many writers who have described the idea of a woman controlling a kingdom as an abomination—most famously John Knox, whose 1553 diatribe The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, argued that the woman who presumed to reign was a “monster in nature.” By nature, we are “weak, frail, impatient, feeble, and foolish” and experience has shown us to be “unconstant, variable, cruel, and lacking the spirit of counsel and regiment.”

Brian Cox, (Logan Roy in “Succession,” in an interview in Town and Country, on Logan Roy’s kids Kendall, Roman, and Siobhan):"He knows that they’re going to f**k it up. He knows that they haven’t got the stuff to do it but they’ll try anyway,"Shiv in particular, “can’t keep her mouth shut. She’s got no reserve, no tactical skill, no subtlety whatsoever, and that’s why she fell out of place."

In “Honeymoon States,” the most recent episode of “Succession,” the jockeying for power resumes, uninhibited by the niceties of colleagues’ condolences or the genuine grief of Logan’s kids. There’s still a lot of “so sorry for your loss,” but the real business, as everyone knows, is picking an interim COE. A piece of paper is found in Logan’s safe with Kendall’s name on it as Logan’s chosen successor. But it’s not clear whether an ambiguously drawn line is under or through Kendall’s name. Is the line emphasis and recommitment (if it’s under) or change of heart (if it’s through)?

Kendall, of course, wants to believe it’s an underlining.(“I’d like it to be one of us. And yeah, Dad said so.” It’s probably the first time in three seasons that Kendall has uttered the words “Dad said so” approvingly.) Shiv and Roman, unsurprisingly, aren’t so ready. Shiv is the one who first proposes that it may be a strike-through, and reminds the group that it doesn’t really matter anyway, as the board will choose; then Roman offers the information that “the thing is old” and Ken has “tried to put [Logan] in jail, like, twelve times since then.” Shiv adds that “it’s im…impossible to decipher.”

Kendall responds: ”Well it sure as fucking shit doesn’t say ‘Shiv.’”

No, it doesn’t say “Shiv.” And that’s no surprise. Although she’s done her best to prove, like Elizabeth I, that she is her father’s daughter, with the “heart and stomach of a king”—it’s been pretty clear that no matter how many crises she averts, no matter how many deals she strategizes smartly (and there have been several), no matter how stoutly she marches, chest thrust out, at the forefront of the troups, becoming successor to the throne would be an uphill, if not impossible, battle for Shiv. She’s a girl. And one who has been born into a world in which “cunt” and “pussy” stand for: scheming and underhanded (“cunt”) or weak and trembling and subservient (“pussy” and “cunt,” depending on the context.) (“Cunt” is so useful, such a good-for-all-occasions word!)

You didn’t notice that their swear-vocabulary is that of a men’s locker room?  Or perhaps it just didn’t seem meaningful?

Ok, let’s leave those words aside. (As Logan remarks, there’s so much nowadays that one is forbidden to say, it’s fucking ridiculous.) Let’s turn instead to how casually Shiv is left out of numerous important conversations (e.g. why didn’t the bros tell her about Kendall’s plan to hold a no-confidence vote against their father?) Or the times Logan says “Good work, son” when Roman shows independence, yet berates Shiv for interfering (“Stop buzzing in my fucking ear!”) Or how, in a discussion about acquiring the prestigious Pierce Global Media, it’s decided by Logan and sons that they need a “pair of dainty hands, in exquisite mittens” to approach Nan Pierce and decide on Frank, oblivious to the fact that Shiv is the obvious choice (later, Nan will agree to a deal only if Shiv is announced as CEO, and Logan refuses.) Or how she’s dissuaded (even though Logan has just told her she’s his CEO pick) from going on the hunting retreat in Hungary (where they kill and eat boar and Logan becomes sadistic at dinner) and is told to go babysit Connor instead?

Or. Or: The self-justifying way her brothers sideline her when the three huddle to decide, after Logan’s death, who to propose to the board for interim CEO. Kendall quickly agrees, when Roman says “it needs to be me, too” to co-COE with him. But when Shiv objects (“And what about me?”) the bros join forces: it will “look like special pleading,” “not dry and clean and tough,” “flaky,” “wonky,” “won’t play well with the board.” “don’t think it works.” And “You actually don’t have experience.” The strategic review was “Daddy make work.”

And so, too, I suppose, it was “Daddy make work” when Shiv cleverly brokered a cease-fire between her father and leftist candidate Gil Eaves? When she cut a deal with Sandi Furness that saved the company when Logan, made nutty by a UTI, is spouting gibberish about a cat under his chair? When she talked a potential witness out of testifying when Waystar is investigated for sexual abuses and cover-ups? (I know, it wasn’t a very sisterly thing to do, but the issue here is Shiv’s competence, not her feminist creds. Like everyone else in the family, political purity is not a concept in her vocabulary.) At one point, as mentioned, Nan Pierce refuses to deal with Logan unless Shiv is made his successor. Do the Logan boys not credit that as anything except the sisterhood of the vaginas?

When the boys cut her out, Shiv ventures the unspoken: : “I look too teary eyed and mascara streaked, and like I might fսcking faint?”  The idea is (suspiciously) quickly dismissed, as Kendall stammers in typical Succession form when a truth is being avoided: ”Shiv, it's not... it's not... really... I don't think it works. You actually don't have experience. It starts to look flaky…And besides, I think two is cool but three is... Like, three is... “ Roman interjects: “Three is a bit wonky. I mean, two is... fսcking, and three is like some weird orgy for hippies.”

Huh? Wonky? Hippies? The kids have always spoken in code, but I can’t decipher these.

Shiv knows when she’s outnumbered, though—she’s used to it--and in true “get it together, grrrl” fashion, accepts her brother’s promise that she would actually be “inside everything.”

Kendall:  “I'm not trying to fսck anyone, okay? This is just to sell, and yesterday was... Come on. Like, yesterday was fսcking... That was real. And I think we're... I feel really good about this. This is... I think this is good.”

Roman: “Everything. Yeah.”

 Kendall: “Yeah. It's a holding position. It's holding. We'll do the deal. Spin ATN, fold in Pierce. Six months, eight months. And that's all equal?

Roman: “Yeah. Equal as fսck, to the gram.

Shiv:  'Cause you guys fսck me on this, and it's…

Shiv: “This is a Dad promise. On yesterday?”

Roman: “Yeah. On yesterday. On yesterday. Not gonna fսck you.”

I think they think they mean it. They’re “lovely guys” (Greg is so good with words, especially when he’s sucking up.) And they’ve just joined hands and sworn on their father’s death. But within moments, they are huddling with Hugo about PR strategy, and Greg is genuflecting “Long live the king! And the other king!” As everyone gathers around them, the bros haven’t even noticed Siobhan has left the room. She’s trying hard as fuck to hold her head high and her tears back, but it’s too much this time. When she encounters some assorted, chuckling people standing around the exit, she snaps “Shut the fuck up and stop laughing. It’s not a comedy night.”

And then she turns her ankle and falls down the stairs.

I let out a noise—can’t be duplicated in words--of shock and horror. All the women watching gasped in unison on Facebook. It was “brutal,” “jarring,” “she is so humiliated, so totally undone.” Some worried whether she’d lose the baby (we learned for sure what many of us suspected earlier, from the show’s decision not to disguise Sarah Snook’s lusher-than-usual body and Shiv’s refusal of a glass of wine, that she is pregnant.) It was a visceral moment, even for the many fans of the show who habitually dump on Shiv on Facebook, calling her a “twat” and ‘the worst of all of them.”

We try so hard. We try to play it like a man. We try to be cool. We try to walk tall when once again we get left out of the club.

And then we trip. And on our fucking high heels!

And our bodies are there sprawled on the stairs, on awkward display like broken puppets.

“I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Don't fսcking touch me. Stop... stop smiling!”

3.    “I can’t have that”

The female body, being famously associated with inferior intelligence, emotional instability, and indeed, as French philosopher Beauvoir wrote, with the body itself, “weighed down by everything peculiar to it” is virtually defined by its imperfections. And when reproduction fails, of course, it is the Queen who is to blame. So, Katherine of Aragon’s, and then Anne Boleyn’s failure to produce a male heir was taken by Henry as a sign from God that he was married to the wrong woman. It was unthinkable that it should be Henry’s fault. The biological body of the queen, in contrast, like all female bodies an undependable quagmire of female stuff, only becomes mystically aligned with God when chosen by the King, and that mystique only lasts so long as she produces heirs. 

 The writers of “Succession” are well-known for explaining nothing, but letting the viewers figure it out themselves, even if it means leaving us perplexed for a while.

When Shiv was informed of Logan’s (probable, at that point) death, she responded in a way that had the anti-Shiv bile spilling all over Facebook and Twitter:

“No! No! I can’t have that.”

What a spoiled brat, Always about her. The selfish, over-privileged princess.

I was more sympathetic. Having lost my sister a little over a year ago, I knew what it was like to have the unthinkable happen. For a long while, perhaps even now, it was simply unacceptable that my sister had died. Now that we know for sure that Shiv is pregnant (from that cruel last sex-game with Tom, in Italy) it’s possible—I would say likely—to understand her words in a different way than either interpretation. She has, for the first time, something that she knows for sure will please her father. And she doesn’t even get the chance to tell him. “No. I can’t have that.” And a bit later, on the phone with an unconscious Logan: “Not now.” Maybe it’s just because she said vicious things to him the night before. But maybe, too, the “now” refers to her pregnancy.

The next day, on the stairs with Tom:

“I guess I'm just, uh, slowly coming to accept that... we killed him. No, we did. He died on the plane… And he wouldn't have been on the plane, except that we made him get on there…. If we had said yes to GoJo, then..... he might've been around for 20 more years. So he could rock his grandkids to sleep.”

Tom, sarcastically:  “As he was evidently so keen to do. “

Shiv: “Yeah. Well, that's fսckеd now, isn't it?”

“I'm angry. My dad died. And my mom is a fսcking disaster. And my husband is... And Kerry, and Marcia, and... It... it... it feels like I'm the only one who lost something that they actually fսcking wanted here and it's not coming back, so...”

The anti-Shiv armies on Facebook and Twitter (and there are far, far more of them than for Kendall or Roman, both of whom are appreciated for their complexity and moments of vulnerability,) were quick to overlook that Shiv is the only one of the three expressing regret over their final power-play with their father—as well as the only one lamenting the loss of the sibling’s temporary unity when they begin squabbling over the COEship (“It's felt good. Us, right?” She says to Roman, “And now, does this... feel good? Like, does that feel good?)  On thread after thread, she was berated and hated for thinking she was “the only one” who felt a loss—and over the fucking CEO position, the cold bitch.   

Were you not listening? Shiv has just spoken of her guilt over Logan’s death, and the grandchildren he might have had. And while Tom mocks the idea that Logan cared about that, Shiv may know more than Tom does about her father. Skeptics may find the idea that Logan is interested in grandchildren unlikely, given how abusive he’s been to his sons and daughter. And then too there’s the way he orders Kendall’s son to “get in here” at Thanksgiving dinner, and accidentally hits him when they struggle (it’s not the only time a kid gets accidentally struck by Logan—Roman does, and so does Shiv.) Logan is scornful over the boy’s sensitivity. “He has trouble with transitions?” What a pussy.

But that’s when he’s disobeyed. When he’s in control, Logan can be tender, as he is with the same grandson the morning after Kendall is saved from drowning. “Are you all right, son? Your dad was okay, you know. He was okay.”  They’re sitting close together and he’s reading to the boy from “Goodbye Mog,” a sentimental children’s picture book. Of course, that kind of reading matter will never do. Too babyish, not enough masculine action. But still. He’s behaving like a grandpa. And I recognized my own father in that mixture of impatience with his own childrens’ perceived weaknesses and generosity with grandchildren and other relative’s kids. Our cousins, as well as the children of his third wife were taken aback when they read a piece of mine in which I described my father’s rages and tyrannies. Kind, funny uncle Yosh? The man who stomped off in fury when I asked him to not smoke his cigar in my airless basement apartment was not the man they knew.

My father was not a Logan Roy. But he could be cruel when we three girls were not “shaping up” according to his (very male) standards, while at the same time sometimes became nastily competitive with us when we did. We were extensions of him, and as such were a measure of his manhood, no matter what we did. If we weren’t tough enough, that made him cringe, as though embarrassed for himself. But if we bested him, that wouldn’t do either. He was ruthless playing scrabble with us when we were just still children, even though he was an ace wordsmith. And when I got my PhD, I thought he’d be proud, and he was. But he also got in a mean sulk  over the fact that he hadn’t been able to even go to college himself.

“Pinkie” knows both sides of Logan: both the shaft of light through the window and the darkness of his rages. And she knows that a new baby is the one thing she can give him that he can unambivalently love—at least for awhile. She was the baby of the family herself once, and I’m guessing that as long as she did as she was told, Logan probably pampered her as he couldn’t pamper the boys (lest they turn out to be pussies.) It couldn’t last; she soon got the message that to be respected you couldn’t be a little girl. But that’s exactly what she becomes again, leaving a message to a father that he is probably unable to hear it. All of them have trouble expressing their feelings to Logan, leaving their awkward little speeches about not forgiving him but loving him “in spite of” that. But Siobhan literally sheds decades of armor, fingers trembling, her voice pitched an octave or two higher than usual. The boys call him “dad”; she calls him “daddy.”  Her hands suddenly look like those of a little girl, and she can barely operate the phone.

It’s of course possible to catalogue all of the reasons why so many “Succession” fans “hate” Shiv, from her infidelities, lies, and cruelty to husband Tom to the sloppy way her hair is tied back for Connor’s wedding (yes, threads have been devoted to berating Shiv for not being properly done up for that occasion.) But “Succession” (unlike, for example, “Perry Mason,” another show I follow in this substack) is not full of basically good people who sometimes lie (Della and Paul), behave rashly and stupidly (Perry), and even kill for hire (the Gallardo brothers.) “Succession” is not morally centered; only occasionally do any of the characters operate according to ideas about good and evil, nice and not-nice. None of them question, as Paul Drake does, whether they are good people. The “kids,” moreover, are not even fully formed yet as agents in the world, but still trying to find their way out of (or are determined to replicate) the reign of an abusive, dominating father. It’s possible to be nauseated by someone’s behavior in one episode, and suddenly feel quite sympathetic the next. Or vice versa. The sympathy can come from the recognition that someone you believed a nasty little joker turns out to be rather soft-hearted. Or it can go the other way: the most rejected by and furious at his father turns out, in classical Freudian fashion, to be his father’s son: the real “killer” of the bunch.

We’re not required to approve of either Roman or Kendall in order to feel affection for them. And it’s not necessary to approve of everything Shiv does in order to “get” why she does it, to feel for her—and perhaps even identify with her a little (or perhaps a lot.) That identification, I believe, is why so many women gasped when she stumbled down those stairs. And it’s that “getting” of Shiv—not a knee-jerk sexism that singles her out for condemnation (because boys will be boys but girls are supposed to be nice)—that writer Jesse Armstrong and actress Sarah Snook bring to the character, and hope we will receive from their inspired, insightful portrait.