Why it isn't good for Succession creator Jesse Armstrong to talk about his show
Brian Cox as Logan Roy in Succession.
Yesterday, like much of the rest of the world, I watched the finale of the third season of Succession. And, like much of the rest of the world, I found myself buffeted by one astonishing twist after another â and a gasp-inducing climax that outdid even those of series one and two. Unlike my fellow viewers, however, pretty much the first thing I see after the end credits roll is the face of Jesse Armstrong, the showâs creator, popping up over Zoom and politely attempting to dissuade me from discussing the episode.
Unlike other big TV showrunners â who will happily explain, and sometimes over-explain, every single second â Armstrong prefers to remain hands-off. He tries not to read the acres of theorising that Succession inspires. Such post-match analyses, he says, can often feel like a tightrope walk. âThereâs a bit of me that just wants to find out what the fuck everyone is saying about the show,â he says from his book-lined study in London.Â
âBut you canât. It wouldnât be good for me psychologically â and it wouldnât be good for the creative process of doing the show.â This reluctance to engage is partly down to his desire to preserve the reality of the show, which tells the story of billionaire Logan Roy, his media company WayStar RoyCo and his four children, all of them vying for dominance in the most dysfunctionally abhorrent ways. Once the creator starts explaining the background to all the decisions that go into making the show, he believes, the mystery that propels it starts to diminish.
âI donât want to say, âWe had this for lunch on that dayâ or âKieran was wearing a hat, but we decided to give him another one because it made him look more military.ââ He pulls himself to a halt, already imagining the thousands of âRoman Roy joins the armyâ theories that could be triggered by such a statement about the repellent, but very funny, character played by Kieran Culkin. âIâve just made that up,â Armstrong quickly clarifies.
For weeks now, Succession has been stuffed with foreboding symbols of death. There have been crucifixes, health scares and â in a cliffhanger that obsessed the world last week â a dreadful accident. Worse still, the final episode opened with Logan reading the childrenâs book Goodbye Mog to his grandson. The book, about a cartoon cat, is explicitly about the death of a beloved character. You donât put Goodbye Mog in a TV programme, I say, unless youâre planning to off someone. âOr do you?â counters Armstrong. âAs you know, there are multiple readings of Goodbye Mog. You could probably list them. But this was probably more of a Marxist reading than a Freudian one.âÂ
Kendall, the middle brother, did seem like he might take his life this season. Has he ever considered killing him off? âThe writersâ room is an open forum where anything mad or weird that aggressively shakes up the show can be suggested and considered,â he replies. âBut we never went down that road. We know Ken got to a low point, then an event happened. I wouldnât disagree with anyone elseâs interpretation of it â but in my mind, it was just a grey area of someone who has stopped looking after themselves.âÂ
To hear Armstrong talk about it, all the real fun of Succession happens inside the writersâ room. Thatâs where all the plots are hashed out, all the themes debated until something like a roadmap to each season begins to form. It sounds like a world of total possibility and, whenever I even begin to approach something approximating a grand unified theory on Succession, the writersâ room is where he bats it back to.

Maybe, I say, it would be a good idea for Logan to just sell out and cut his kids loose, let the entitled brats stand on their own two feet. If they can make a success of themselves outside of WayStar, then they donât need it. If they canât, itâs proof Logan was only keeping them around out of vanity. I check Armstrongâs face for something â anything â that might validate my theory.
âUm,â he eventually replies. âIâm gonna give you a, âThatâs a good idea.â I buy the notion, but itâs not good for me to talk about. If I said, âYes, thatâs rightâ, it would be bullshit. I havenât got a conceptual framework of what happens. I donât mean to be a dick about it, but I donât have any good answers, or maybe theyâre only appropriate to discuss in the writersâ room.âÂ
I retreat to safer ground. A recent New Yorker interview with Jeremy Strong, who plays Kendall Roy, laid out his sometimes extreme ways of getting into whatever character he is playing. In The Trial of the Chicago 7, while shooting a protest scene, Strong asked a stunt coördinator to rough him up and also requested to be sprayed with real tear gas. âI donât like saying no to Jeremy,â the filmâs writer and director Aaron Sorkin is quoted as saying. âBut there were 200 people in that scene and another 70 on the crew, so I declined to spray them with poison gas.âÂ
The profile attracted such fascination (and mockery) that the likes of Sorkin, Jessica Chastain and Anne Hathaway felt compelled to leap to his defence. Has Armstrong spoken to Strong during this firestorm? Is he dealing with it OK? âHeâs fine,â says the writer. âHeâs fine. Iâm in touch with all the actors. Heâs good.â With Strong so willing to go to similar extremes to reach the emotions needed to play someone like Kendall, I wonder if Armstrong ever goes through something similar.Â
Does he, in the process of creating a show with so many peaks and troughs, find himself being chucked about by the emotion of it all? âOh shit, I do, I do,â he says, suddenly much more animated, recalling a scene between Kendall and his sister Shiv. âI remember doing a rewrite where Shiv gives Kendall a hug. I found it very touching.â This isnât always the case, heâs keen to point out. âSometimes I can be a bit more of a scientist in a lab about it. You donât want to get high on your own supply and start overestimating yourself, but I really am emotionally engaged.â
He goes on to describe the season three finaleâs most pivotal scene, which takes place in an Italian car park underneath the beating sun. It is a make-or-break moment for the siblings in their battle with their father â a delicate scene they had to get right. Nevertheless, as Armstrong explains: âI was very present watching that scene being filmed. I was like a fan of Succession watching it.âÂ
After Christmas, Armstrong will reassemble the Succession writersâ room and begin to piece together season four. It may or may not be the showâs last. He wonât say for sure, but he does seem overly concerned with the notion of outstaying his welcome. Speaking of the season two finale, the one that ended with Kendall publicly accusing his father of wrongdoing, he recalls thinking: âI hope I can write another as good as that. And I donât know if I can. That might be as good as Iâve got.â

It wasnât. This last season has seen Succession ascend to even greater heights â but Armstrong remains cautious. âYouâve only got so much plot, character and psychological capital,â he says. âOne day it will be gone and you donât know when that day is. The fear is that itâll sneak up on you when youâre not looking.â I have time to pitch one last Succession theory. Given all the plot swings with Kendall, and his very specific obsessions, is he Jesus? âThis is part of the reason why I do and donât like talking about the show,â Armstrong replies patiently.
âThat theory works, but it isnât the key to the show because itâs not that kind of show. But youâd be very welcome to come into the writersâ room and say that, because weâd have a really good time talking about it.â Youâve really made me want to visit the writersâ room, I say. He grins. âI find the period when the showâs going out really complicated, because thereâs all this stuff I do want to know but I donât want to know. But the writersâ room is almost pure pleasure. I always look forward to that.âÂ
- Succession is available to watch on-demand on Sky and NOW.

