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The HBO series is a portrait of parties in purgatory, and the repetition of their lives only improves their misfortune. But the decision at the end of Season 2 adapts the show’s status quo.

The second season of Succession seemed positioned to end how it began. Once again, Kendall( Jeremy Strong) was drag in front of the cameras at his father’s request. Once again, he was prepped with talking tops by an anxious Karolina( Dagmara Dominczyk ). Once again, Logan( Brian Cox) seemed on, confident his erstwhile heir self-evident would do what he was asked. But this time, of course, Kendall didn’t.

“This Is Not for Tears” is an episode full of callbacks. The climax to Succession’s bravura second season, written by series creator Jesse Armstrong, takes care to create a sense of the cumulative. There’s a shot of Logan from behind at heads of state of a table, an echo of the opening recognitions. There’s a group summit where Logan disingenuously floats the idea of stepping down as CEO of Waystar Royco, a reprise of a near-identical set-up from the season premiere.( That join took place in the Hamptons, this one on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Both proposals were met with a chorus of oh-no-you-can’ts .) There’s another face-off between Kendall and his friend-foil Stewy( Arian Moayed ), although with the dominance dynamic altered and Logan as a literal , not only metaphorical, proximity. Inheritance is a portrait of beings in hell, and the repetition of their lives only deepens their tragedy.

But in its final instants, “This Is Not for Tears” seems to break Succession’s mold. A favourite supporter presumption holds that Succession is setting itself up for each season to focus on a different Roy scion taking, then surely missing, their shot at Logan’s throne. Season 1 belonged to Kendall, the Don Jr.-Lachlan Murdoch hybrid we pitied and disliked in equal criterion; Season 2 zeroed in on Siobhan( Sarah Snook ), or “Shiv” for short-lived, gradually dismantling our image of her as the winsome one. Roman( Kieran Culkin ), fresh from a “hostages ” in Turkey, gazed to be up next, and much of “This Is Not for Tears” worked to confirm that hunch. Professionally, Roman’s candor about the shadiness of their company’s prospective purchasers gave his father’s respect, and his romance-alliance with Gerri( J. Smith-Cameron) appears to be going strong. Personally, Roman’s brush with mortality brought out something like maturity, asking questions a heart-to-heart with his jeering siblings and affirming Kendall’s selection as the fall guy.( Kendall did came to see you his defense when their pa slapped him in the face, after all .)

Even if Roman does eventually accept the captain’s chair at Waystar Royco, though, he are likely to be steering a soul send. Roman may well be the new Iron Man of Succession’s Avengers-like ensemble, presenting Culkin the showcase in Season 3 that Strong and Snook have enjoyed in seasons 1 and 2. But Kendall’s decision to( accurately) denounce “his fathers” for the years of abuses on the company’s cruise arguments, and assassinate his reference in the process, actually reforms the show’s status quo. It’s a reversal that Succession has been flirting with all season: Logan, the only man brutal enough to master the formalized brutality known as capitalism, has finally sustained a critical blow. Having performed its moment about information systems that compensations Logan and the behaviours he, in turn, brought about by in others, Succession can finally explore a post-Logan universe, or at least a cosmo that’s proved Logan isn’t omnipotent.

Kendall’s betrayal opens up all kinds of narrative possibilities for Season 3, which HBO announced almost as soon as Season 2 began. Where does this upheaval leave Roman and Shiv, who respectively risked their life( Roman) and likely relinquished their union( Shiv) for what abruptly looks like a rotting corpse? What does Kendall do now that he’s the only Roy to have actually, meaningfully cracked from the family patriarch? Will Logan fall victim to the shareholder revolt that’s been haunting him for months, and if so, who will he take down with him?

Yet Succession is a show that has use for plot exclusively as a vehicle for emotion. Whereas Billions, its obvious counterpart and most frequent comparison, enjoys in the detailed high-pitched investment, Succession purposely hand-waves the micro until the macro–both the bird’s-eye view and the primal foundation–is all that’s left. Logan cherishes to insist that Waystar Royco is a family corporation; it’s a lie in the sense that Logan invokes genealogy only when it dress him, but a truth in that all of Waystar’s high-level maneuverings are little more than an amped-up sibling squabble. And like us mere mortals, the Roys tend to be caught in the same dynamics for years on end, reproducing them ad nauseam but unable to change–until all of a sudden, they’re not.

Kendall’s turning on Logan is not, in and of itself, new. All of Season 1 hinged on his unsuccessful coup against his aging and potentially addled father, elicited when Logan moved back on his promise to retire and hand over the reins. Logan broke Kendall with some good old-fashioned blackmail, then returned him to the fold as a agent even more relied than before, allotting his capsules like Game of Thrones’ Reek once scraped Ramsay’s neck. What’s different about this second, much more fundamental split is that Kendall isn’t make it with an nose toward supplanting Logan as heads of state of Waystar Royco. He’s burning that connect, though doing so ironically acquires him the kind of “killer” Logan can respect, hence the final-shot smirk. Hopefully, his approval won’t undo Kendall’s emotional progress. There’s a genuine indicate of moral outrage to his indictment of his papa, and a Roy with enough awareness to see–and reject–Logan for what he indeed is has been a possibility so razzing it’s virtually hard to believe. Shiv’s short-lived independence turned out to be a( literal) diversionary tactic, and the mistrust she’s learned the hard way is a tough instinct to shake.

The hour leading up to Kendall’s would-be sacrifice contains one of Succession’s most well-worn situations. Logan musters his family and deputies together, then has them turn on one another with a minimum of stimulating, unleashing the self-preservation and venality he’s trained into instinct. As everyone takes turns shedding everyone else under the bus, one can’t help but flash back to the Summer Palace brainstorm, or Boar on the Floor, or any of the other umpteen times this backbiting has played out, leaving everyone except Logan in tatters. This time, however, “This Is Not for Tears” presents an alternative terminating. Much like Logan, Succession maintains us on our toes, situation us to expect one upshot so it can better surprise us with another.

Familiarity is one of television’s most powerful implements. It’s what outlines us in week after week in search of comfort, and what leaves columnists a blueprint for replicating a successful formula for years on end. On Succession, it’s also depicted just how deeply ingrained the Roys’ need for Logan’s approval, and mistrust of one another instead of solidarity against their shared tormentor, indeed is. But acquaintance can also turn stale and predictable; as we start to anticipate what a demonstrate has in store for us, boredom rectifies in, and our eye starts to wander. “This Is Not for Tears” deploys knowledge and oddity in equal, and professional, meter. The chapter intentionally invokes what’s come before to set up, then subvert, our possibilities. Succession’s people is also available caught in a curve, but manager into a months-long hiatus, the audience has no idea what will happen next.

Disclosure: HBO is an initial investor in The Ringer.

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