From ancient tales to contemporary dramas, the themes of power struggles within families remain a compelling and timeless narrative that resonates deeply with audiences. These dynamics filled with conflict, betrayal and ambition reflect the intricate nature of human relationships, making them universally relatable across generations. Shakespeare’s iconic tragedy, King Lear, with its raw portrayal of familial discord strikes a chord even today. Essentially, it’s a royal mess—one that, if Shakespeare were alive today, might feature a Netflix adaptation with far more foul-mouthed insults.
Now, fast forward to today, and you’ll find the same darkly entertaining themes in shows like the Emmy-winning Succession. The super hit HBO series is King Lear for contemporary times brimming with corporate jargon and expensive Prada suits (and some “foul-mouthed insults”). The show navigates the tension between family loyalty and the insatiable hunger for power, with each of Logan Roy’s children vying for the big chair. It is a classic tale of sibling rivalry where instead of fighting for the TV remote, they fight for the control of a multi-billion-dollar company.
Succession is King Lear for the modern age. At their core, both stories explore the same narrative—families love each other but they’d also stab each other in the back to come out on top and leave us feeling grateful that our family feuds are restricted to fighting over who ate the slice of the pizza and not multi-billion-dollar empires. Let’s dive in and see just how much the Roys resemble King Lear and his daughters.
LOGAN ROY AS KING LEAR
Both Logan and Lear have a thing for handing over their empires to their children in the most catastrophic way possible. They are like twins separated at birth, each raised to believe that their children would wreak havoc in their kingdoms without their divine presence. At their core, Logan and Lear are all about pride—pride in themselves, pride in their families, pride in the empires they’ve built. This pride is so inflated that it could fuel the national economy of a country.
Lear decides to divide his kingdom among his three daughters, Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia, but oh no, not on merit—on flattery. Who can use the fanciest words to win my empire over? That’s the test, folks. Lear learns the hard way that having a way with words isn’t the best criterion for choosing your successor. Logan Roy, on the other hand, in a modern yet equally peculiar twist, forces his children, Kendall, Roman and Shiv, into a Hunger Games-like situation for control of Waystar Royco.
In the end, Logan and Lear teach us a powerful lesson about the dangers of unchecked pride—and the consequences of trying to hold on to power far longer than is healthy. Power, unchecked and unchallenged, is extremely harmful—and whether it’s a kingdom or a corporate empire, it’s always the family that pays the price.
KENDALL ROY AS EDMUND
While it is tempting to think of Kendall Roy, Logan’s eldest son, and his “#1 boy”, as Cordelia, Kendall’s ambition and tragic flaws align perfectly with Edmund, Gloucester’s illegitimate scheming son. Edmund and Kendall could easily join forces and form a support group for overachievers who are too desperate to prove that they are worthy of inheritance, no matter how many moral boundaries they have to cross.
At their core, they’re just two guys with an unquenchable thirst for power who seek their fathers’ validation. They wake up in the morning thinking “I want to rule the world but I have to prove to my dad that I am not a total disappointment.” Both are unhealthily obsessed with their dads’ approval and validation but instead of asking for a hug, they take the most dramatic route and betray their fathers. Edmund, tired of being the illegitimate son, goes full Machiavelli, plotting to overthrow his father, Gloucester. Kendall’s betrayal of Logan is more of an awkward corporate coup that never fully reaches its potential, as his desperate moves are often restricted by his inner turmoil and fear of failure.
ROMAN ROY AS THE FOOL
Roman Roy and the Fool both are, in their own ways, the clown princes of their respective families. The Fool is the only one to tell Lear the hard truths, though he does it with a lot of riddles and mockery. Roman, on the other hand, wields his sarcasm like a sword, cutting through Logan’s ego with a wink.
Both characters are stuck in a kind of tragic comedy, trying to juggle between being the family’s comic relief and the only ones who tell the truth. The Fool’s constant mockery of Lear’s foolishness is delivered with a sad knowingness. Roman does something similar, but his sharp humour serves as a defense mechanism, as if the more he jokes about how awful things are, the less it stings.
Roman and The Fool mask their vulnerabilities with humour. The Fool is the one who sees Lear’s downfall coming, but instead of screaming “I told you so”, he cracks jokes about it. Roman, too, hides his deep insecurity and need for validation behind sharp one-liners. Neither of them gets the happy ending they deserve but they get a chance to make us laugh as they spiral into their tragic roles.
SHIV ROY AS GONERIL
Shiv or Siobhan Roy, the youngest Roy sibling and Goneril, Lear’s eldest daughter are two sides of the same coin except one struts around in Prada suits and Louboutin heels while the other wears lavish gowns with corsets tight enough to make breathing optional. Goneril’s plea to Lear, her father, to let her run the show sounds pretty similar to Shiv’s constant battle of proving she’s got what it takes to sit in the big chair.
Both women are masters of manipulation but Goneril goes for the kill, quite literary. She is scheming, hostile and would poison your wine if that’s what it takes to sit on the throne. Shiv, on the other hand, wraps her manipulation with a dash of corporate lingo. She’s got the air of “I am better than you” mixed with a desperate need of approval, much like her siblings Kendall and Roman.
Shiv and Goneril both seek one thing: control. Both women, despite their cold ambition, eventually find themselves tangled in a web of betrayal and failed plans, proving that when you aim for power without regard for others, you might end up losing it all.
TOM WAMBSGANS AS KENT
Tom Wambsgans and Kent are like two peas in a pod, both loyal, a bit pathetic in their own unique ways and willing to endure anything for their object of devotion, Logan and Lear respectively. Kent is the very first “ride or die” who disguised himself as a peasant just so he could serve his boss, Lear even after he banished him. Tom’s willingness to suffer through his status as Logan’s punching bag is nothing short of heroic and is ready to face any kind of humiliation (much like Kent) for Logan’s love (or a better position at ATN).
Both men are like long-suffering sidekicks, willing to take whatever insensitive remark comes their way for the sake of loyalty and in Tom’s case, also power. Kent, despite all the mistreatment, sticks with Lear out of honour. Tom, on the other hand, sticks with Logan out of ambition, because let’s be honest, “honour” doesn’t get you a seat at the table in the Roy family or Waystar Royco.
In conclusion, King Lear and Succession are basically the same drama, just with fewer crowns and more corporate jargon. Both stories feature powerful, stubborn leaders who make questionable decisions about handing over their empires, and their children are ready to stab each other in the back to take control — sometimes literally, sometimes just with a well-placed corporate insult.
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