How boardroom politics became big business on TV
Portrayals of the business world on television are no longer the preserve of suited, booted reality contests such as The
Apprentice and Dragons’
Den. A new generation of superb dramas are turning the buyouts and billions of high commerce into Shakespearean psychodrama. The prime example right now is
Succession, the stately HBO saga about a deeply flawed media dynasty which airs here on Sky Atlantic – and last week’s episode wowed us with one of the screen scenes of the year.
The family of mogul Logan Roy (Brian Cox) were supposed to be on their best behaviour as they set out to woo their liberal equivalents, the Pierces, whose rival news empire they were aggressively attempting to buy out, over an extravagant dinner. The slow-building, 15-minute scene saw a culture-clash of the clans during which pleasantries gradually gave way to vitriol.
Attempts at playful banter backfired. Faux pas were made. Political rows erupted. It was all excruciatingly tense but just about convivial until the Pierce family matriarch faux-casually asked whether Logan had chosen his successor yet, at which point the Roy family’s internal squabbles came broiling and bubbling to the surface.
As one of the smug Pierces later gloated: “Watching you people melt
down is the most deeply satisfying activity on earth.”
Brilliantly written and beautifully shot over two long days, it was a bravura set piece. Cameras danced in fluidly around the candlelit table, moving in and out of conversations, then back to Logan Roy’s scowling face as proceedings slipped beyond his control. It was painstakingly choreographed and the ensemble cast excelled.
Scenes such as this are precisely why Succession won the Bafta for Best International Programme this summer, and has stealthily become one of the most eagerly talked-about shows on the air. It’s also the latest example of the business world becoming a backdrop for superlative screen storytelling. HBO’s rival premium cable network Showtime pulls off a similar trick with hedgefund drama Billions, starring Damian Lewis as alpha trader Bobby “The Axe” Axelrod. Like Succession, Billions is a sort of gilded super-soap. The two shows could be seen as Dynasty and
Dallas for the new millennium. It’s a distorted view of business, of course: the lurid, quasi-criminal version beloved of dramatists but not to be mistaken for factual realism. Business infused with the betrayal and deceit that propel all the best fiction: boardroom back-stabbing, illicit deals, high-stakes blackmail, financial fraud.
It’s no coincidence that Succession’s writing team includes British playwright Lucy Prebble, the woman behind acclaimed play Enron, about the scandalous collapse of the American energy corporation.
There’s also a large element of aspiration and titillation. These dramas provide a peek through the penthouse window at an elite world of which most viewers will never be part. The
New York Times has dubbed such shows “wealth porn”. Succession and
Billions both employ expert “wealth consultants” to ensure their authenticity. The perks of “one per centers” (the billionaire class of which the Roys and Axelrods are a part) – opulent property, private jets, superyachts, perfectly tailored designer suits, tastefully expensive cashmere casualwear – are all present and correct, even if the people in them are often trapped and miserable in their platinum cages.
Business dramas combine work and play in irresistibly compelling ways.
Succession’s HBO stablemate, the tech start-up satire Silicon Valley, returns next month, while Showtime just aired
The Loudest Voice, starring Russell Crowe as Fox News magnate Roger Ailes. At the cinema, films such as The
Big Short, The Social Network and The Wolf of Wall Street scratch the same itch. Coming our way soon is Greed, starring Steve Coogan as a thinly disguised take on Top Shop tycoon Sir Philip Green.
Shakespeare generally relied on royalty as his entry point to study the human condition, his stage upon which to portray relationships and rivalries, power and corruption, love and death. Dramatists still do: The Crown does, Downton Abbey and Victoria do. And what is Game of Thrones if not the Wars of the Roses with added dragons?
Nowadays, though, the world is run by money rather than monarchy. Billionaires are the new royalty, and business is the canvas on which many contemporary dramas are painted. Deal-making and double-crossing have replaced sword fights and speechifying. If Shakespeare’s plays and period dramas are old money, addictive prestige dramas such as
Succession and Billions are the upstart nouveau riche.
Besides, Succession is essentially
King Lear for cable news: a tragic melodrama in which the fading, white-bearded patriarch sets his privileged progeny against each other. Is Logan Roy more sinned against than sinning? Stay tuned to find out. I know I will be.
If period dramas are old money, shows such as ‘Succession’ are the nouveau riche