How do we cope without our succession obsession? MAUREEN CALLAHAN’s latest review

Now That was a serious finale for serious people.

The final episode of ‘Succession’ will go down in the books as one of the best endings to the best series of our time – one that led us to a truly Shakespearean conclusion.

“The show is against bulls**t,” creator Jesse Armstrong said in a February interview.

Appropriately enough, at the conclusion of Series 4 Episode 10, the failed scion of a media empire – Roman Roy (Kieran Culkin) – finally admitted of himself and his siblings, “We’re bulls**t.”

That was always the conceit, wasn’t it? The grasping, idiotic children of Logan Roy (Brian Cox), the imposing patriarch who most often told them to fuck off, who pitted them against each other and promised favoritism, then fed on their self-denial – none of them had the intelligence, the refinement, the inner resources to succeed their great and terrible father.

“I love you,” he told them earlier this season. “But you are not serious people.”

That line was the thesis statement for the show, reflecting America today: the unthinkable rise of a demagogue, probably racist and xenophobic, to the presidency of the United States, backed by Logan’s right-wing news operation, putting profit before democracy.

The amorality and cynicism it takes to amass such wealth and power, let alone gain access to the chambers where such things are decided. The contempt and carelessness of that one percent, never touched by the violence and uprisings in their wake, embodied here by ‘parochial warrior’ Tom Wambsgans (Matthew Macfadyen).

Yes, despite all the online theorizing about who would ‘win’ in the final, it was hapless Tom who came out on top, happily allowing Waystar buyer Lukas Matsson (Alexander Skarsgard) to sensationally avoid his own wife and make him CEO.

An unlikely ending? Or should we have taken a clue from his last name, which he shared with otherwise low-profile major league baseball player Bill Wambsganss, who recorded the only unsupported World Series triple play in 1920.

As the season progressed, Tom’s ambition came into sharp focus. He alternated between deference and defiance, prowling around after Logan’s death with the mantra, “I’m here to serve,” and once he got back on his feet, confronted Shiv (Sarah Snook) about her hypocrisy: “I love really, really, really of my money. If you think that’s superficial, why don’t you throw all your stuff away for love?’

Have we heard a better description of late-stage American capitalism?

And, of course, his ultimate triple play: knocking out the sibling triumvirate of Kendall, Shiv, and Roman to become Logan’s named successor.

And it was made all the more alive by that blistering dialogue. Holy hell, ‘Succession’ could convey the ugliest sentiments with verve and humour.

Indeed, here was Kendall’s mean, hilarious outburst to his own sister: “C*** is like c*** does.”

“Succession” gave us the horrors of bodega sushi. The cliché of Patek Philippes. The vulgarity of ridiculously roomy handbags! Oh how you will be greatly missed.

Yet there was gravitas here, as always. And the show’s darkest themes echoed throughout this finale.

The repeated references to murder; the sadistic coronation of future king Kendall (Jeremy Strong), forced to eat a disgusting concoction by his laughing siblings; and, of course, the water motif, with Kendall – who has nearly drowned so many times on this show – drawn over and over again to what seems like a fateful end.

Give up all dignity, ye who enter here – as best underlined by Tom, seated opposite his new manager, grinning blindly as Mattson fantasizes about having sex with the pregnant Shiv.

The cost of doing business has never been felt so high or so deeply.

And so we witnessed Roman’s inevitable mental breakdown, his masochism peaking in the finale, when he literally made Kendall reopen a bleeding wound in his forehead; Kendall’s sadism came out as he hugged him tightly until the stitches burst.

This was Kendall as the emotional successor to Logan, who we once saw punch Roman in the face, and who we know kept him in a dog cage as a kid. Kendall has transitioned to the dark side, full Darth Vader.

However, for all the amorality on display, Armstrong built something of a moral universe, where none of the undeserved children won.

But even Tom’s victory was hollow: as Mattson made clear, he’s his lap dog, his water boy.

The sandblasting of humanity gave us, the common people, access to real estate porn, private jets and helicopters, the lingua franca of stealth wealth and $500 Loro Piana cashmere baseball caps, at no such cost.

But the Roy kids, in the climax of the finale, pay a high price.

In a brutal fight to succeed Logan, Kendall physically attacks Roman. Shiv calls out Kendall for killing someone, the young waiter from Season 2, Kendall’s own Chappaquiddick.

“I love you,” Shiv tells him, “but I can’t fucking bear you.”

The board sees and hears it all: the shoving, the screeching, the hitting, the crying. These are not serious people.

“Succession” gave these characters, and their fans, the endings they deserved: Roman, broken but free, drinking the martini favored by his unrequited obsession, Gerri; Shiv makes an indignant peace with Tom, placing her hand on his but not intertwining as they sit, ‘Graduate’ style, in the back of a darkened SUV; and Kendall alone, no family, no future, staring at the Hudson River – water, dead – as the sun goes down.

It was perfect, poetic, quiet and still.

‘Succession’ could easily have continued. HBO would have undoubtedly offered huge amounts of money and creative freedom, but Armstrong was strong enough to finish on this high note.

That is a rare kind of artistic fortitude. We salute Armstrong, even in mourning: for what could ever replace “Succession”?