It was a wild roller-coaster ride – entertaining and horrifying; dark and poignant; tragic and hilarious all the way to the end, and because of it, I was glued to the series, along with the rest of its millions of viewers.
But another reason why HBO’s Succession, a television drama about a self-made shrewd, cunning and narcissistic mogul and his business empire, resonated with me is that I felt like I was inside the boardrooms and private jets of some of the people I cover.
I felt like I was eavesdropping on the secret conversations of the characters of the different business empires in the Philippines, including the tycoons themselves and their wannabe successors, hearing them plot their way into a life of power and more power.
To me, that’s where the beauty of Succession lies. It blurred reality and fiction in a way that was fun and absolutely entertaining. But more than that, it was a profound commentary on how today’s real world is just as tragic and hilarious, with strings pulled by those with massive wealth and power, shared with those we elect supposedly to represent us.
It’s a genius parable of the corporate world – here, there and everywhere – and how it intersects, disgustingly, with politics.
Filipino tycoons, at least some of them, may see themselves in the series unless of course, they’re too cocooned in their own bubble to see these hard truths.
For instance, I found uncanny similarities between the Roy siblings and members of a billionaire family here in the Philippines.
Like the Roy siblings, they each believe they are the worthy successor to the sprawling business empire that their father built. And in some ways, like the Roy trio, they are also entitled, emotionally stunted and manipulative; and relentless in their desire to be the next emperor; and if they won’t be the anointed one, they strive to make sure that none of them would be it.
As with the Roy siblings who “lack killer instinct and are wet and green,” none of them has their old man’s strategic mind in business, including his “killer instinct.”
And then there are the Filipino tycoons who have such uncanny similarities with Logan Roy because they are just as ruthless and just can’t let go of the throne.
Forget about Rupert Murdoch, said to be the inspiration for the television series. We have some Logan Roys here in the Philippines, too. Take your pick – whether it’s that octogenarian tycoon known for his notoriously flaring temper or that strict patriarch whose approval his children strived for.
There are also younger tycoons who, like Logan Roy, not only own businesses but have unparalleled influence on all branches of our government, not to mention those politicians who are businessmen at the same time.
How about the Filipino-owned family-run media empires which, like the Roys’ American Television Network, shape Philippine politics and the Filipino consciousness,“mula Aparri hanggang Jolo?”
And then there’s this conglomerate filled with sycophants or “yes-man” people like Tom Wambsgans.
Anyone who knows the Philippine corporate world can see some of the Filipino business empires’ protagonists and antagonists, including in-laws, in the different characters of Succession.
It’s not to say though that we are surrounded only by shrewd Logan-like business moguls. We are not. We have altruistic business people who sincerely want to leave a good legacy.
But the truth is, there are indeed greedy and rent-seeking businessmen around us who have no qualms pillaging the country’s economic resources, so long as their empires endure.
Lessons
Whether in the Philippines or not, Succession has taught us that sometimes, in this world of the filthy rich and powerful, people – brothers, sisters, friends, spouses, lovers – aren’t always people.
For some of those on top, these people are merely votes, consigliere, necessary allies or an escape, who are all just part of a grand plan to gain power or to stay in power, just as Shiv Roy was to misogynist Lucas Mattson, who played her “like a pregnant cello.” Ouch.
Is blood thicker than water in this world? Does love even exist? Ah, yes love. Succession is also about love, or the lack of it and how this creates dysfunctional families.
When the patriarch Logan Roy asks his son Roman what he and his siblings can offer, Roman answers, “I don’t know, f#cking love?”
But Logan won’t have it. “You bust in here, guns in hand. Now, you find they’ve turned into f#cking sausages, you talk about love?!”
So yes, it’s also about how greed and ambition can warp love and humanity and how having abusive and narcissistic parents affect one’s capacity to love or not to love, resulting in a generational cycle of dysfunction.
But to me, the biggest lesson of Succession is this. While Fitzgerald believes the rich are not like you and me, in the end, we can all be the same. It’s what the dark denouement of the series tells us.
Indeed, some of us fool ourselves that we aren’t those despicable and ruthless powerful people we hate, or we think we should hate, but in reality, we can be, given the chance. And how better or worse we are compared to them just depends on how nihilistic – like the once desperate outsider Tom Wambsgans – we allow ourselves to be.
So while Succession is a thrilling voyeurism into the world of the filthy rich and awful privileged people, it’s also a giant mirror on all of us, as individuals and as a nation. Of how greed and ambition can blind us all.
And this, really, is what makes us a Shakespearean tragedy.
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Email: eyesgonzales@gmail.com. Follow her on Twitter @eyesgonzales. Column archives at EyesWideOpen on FB.