It’s difficult to speak of the dead without leaving a bit of yourself on the table. No matter how much you attempt to focus on the deceased, you’re going to reveal some deep personal truths. And this was on full display in the penultimate episode of Succession, titled “Church and State.”
We’ve previously seen Succession’s odd take on eulogies in season two when Connor Roy is forced to walk a political tightrope during the funeral of a family friend and sex criminal. At this point in the show, Connor hopes to use the funeral for the man they called “Mo” — as in “mo-lester” — to win over some funder for his doomed presidential campaign.
He then realizes that any praise he sends toward the dearly departed may lead to legal trouble and a destroyed reputation. So Connor instead opts to speak without saying anything. He distances himself as much as possible from a person while still eulogizing him. This leads to the most comedic television eulogy since that episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show where the clown died.
In “Church and State,” we find the Roy siblings at the funeral for their father, Logan, and Connor once again wishes to take a stab at eulogizing. His speech is described as “long and hard to follow,” but maybe it’s just “formally inventive.” Ultimately, Connor loses out due to the likelihood that the eulogy he has prepared would leave the family “open to legal action.”
Here we see Connor’s characterization through the form of eulogy. He is aspirational, but unserious. When he’s allowed to talk, he doesn’t say anything — which is why he isn’t allowed to eulogize a man as important as his father.
Another speaker banned from addressing the mourners is Logan’s bitter brother, Ewan. Ewan manages to avoid having Cousin Greg take out his legs and is actually the first speaker at Logan’s funeral. At first it seems like Ewan isn’t going to badmouth his deceased brother, whom he has previously credited as causing more damage to this planet than any other person in the history of the world.
“What sort of people would stop a brother from speaking for the sake of a share price? It is not for me to judge my brother. History will tell that story. I can just give you a couple of instances about him,” Ewan says. “You probably all know we came across the first time during the war for our safety. But the engines of our ship let go, and the rest of the convoy sailed on without us, leaving us adrift. They told us, they told us children that if we spoke or coughed or moved an inch, that the U-boats would catch the vibrations through the hull and we would die right there in the drink, right there in the hold. Three nights and two days we stayed quiet. A four year old and a five and a half year old speaking with our eyes. So there’s a little sob story.”
Ewan then reveals the answer to one of Succession’s lingering questions: Why does Logan not speak about his dead sister, Rose? As Ewan reveals, Logan complained about attending a privileged boarding school and protested until he was allowed to return home. Shortly after, Rose died of polio, which Logan always believed he had brought into the household.
But then Ewan switches tone, saying Logan “wrought the most terrible things” and “fed a certain kind of meagerness in men.”
Here we see that Ewan has both a unique insight into one of the most important men in the world but also a disdain for what his success has done to it. Ewan is admittedly bitter, but not wrong. He understands the pettiness of men and a system that turns scared children into ruthless bastards only to reward them.
Then we have the eulogy delivered by Roman Roy. Or would have been.
Early on in the episode, we see Roman confidently rehearse his speech while getting dressed. He bounces around, glossing over his prepared notes, while also admitting that this is his opportunity to cast himself as a viable replacement for his father as head of the company.
But Roman — who has failed to properly mourn his father’s death — is shaken by Ewan’s takedown. Roman stutters his way through the opening line of the eulogy, but upon seeing his father’s casket, completely breaks down. Roman’s insistence that he “pre-grieved” his father’s death has resulted in him tearfully asking that they let his dad out of the coffin.
Here we see Roman’s complete fear of anything too real. Roman describes his father’s death and subsequent funeral as “too big” to face just as he called subverting a presidential election as a “good night of TV.”
“Nothing happens,” Roman says after he has the family’s news agency prematurely call the election in favor of a white supremacist. Roman is incapable of facing the truth of anything beyond himself and the immediate. So, of course, he’s unable to face the death of his father when forced to do so. And in the end, this is driven home when he can’t even set foot inside the family mausoleum.
After Roman falters — or Vaulters (wakka wakka) — Kendall steps in to eulogize his father, whom Kendall both betrayed and loved. Much like Ewan, Kendall’s feeling’s are a complicated mix of emotions based on a complex personal history.
“I knew my father … My father was a brute,” Kendall says. “He was tough. But also he built and acted.”
Kendall describes the “magnificent awful force” his father possessed, and it’s clear that this is the internal contradiction that tortures Kendall. He has betrayed his father. His kids have fled the city due to the upset caused by the family news outlet naming a Nazi as the next president.
So Kendall does what he always does. He feels the awful weight of harming those he loves. And then he moves on. And the eulogy for his father is no longer that. Instead it’s what Roman had intended for himself — a way to ingratiate himself as the next head of the company.
Finally, we have Shiv, who follows up after Kendall’s impassioned speech. Shiv begins with an anecdote about playing outside their dad’s office as kids. He would erupt from the door and yell at them all to be quiet.
“He kept us outside, but he kept everyone outside,” Shiv says. “But when he let you in, when the sun shone, it was warm in the light.”
But then we get that final bit of insight into Shiv’s role in the family and the business. She says, “But it was hard to be his daughter. He was hard on women. He couldn’t fit a whole woman in his head. But he did OK.”
But we know he really didn’t. So far this season, we’ve seen Shiv cut out from control of the family company by her brothers. Now, as more learn of her pregnancy, her ability to lead the company after the buyout is questioned. Her immediate reaction is to distance herself from having any sort of close relationship with her child, lest she be seen as weak.
Here we see Shiv as the outsider she’s always been. She’s an only daughter in a male-dominated business culture that preys upon female employees. She’s a soon-to-be mother whose own mother doesn’t think she should be a mother. She’s helping coordinate the buyout of her family’s company because it’s her best shot at actually running the business.
At the heart of Succession’s treatment of eulogies is two things: making the profane sacred and the sacred profane.
These aren’t words of love for the deceased during a religious ceremony. They are political speeches and personal misgivings. Motherhood is cast off for corporate power. Democracy is sold off for parts. And the family mausoleum is marveled at as just another good business deal.
Because on Succession, people are people. But people are also dirt. And to the dirt you shall return.
