Are Ted Lasso & Succession Two Sides Of The Same Covid Couch?
Do yourself a favor, and if you haven’t binged season three of HBO’s Succession, or if you need to catch up on Apple TV’s Ted Lasso—Do it. In fact, serve yourself up a combo platter. Because Lasso without Succession is not nearly as enlightening as the two up against each other. It’s a big commitment: Succession may make you feel like you need therapy, and Lasso may make you feel like you’ve been to therapy. Succession’s Roy family will remind you why tigers eat their young—while Lasso’s Richmond Greyhound staff will help you “be the ball” just like Dani Rojas, because football is life. But also, life is life. Or football is death, too? Things got complicated with that ill-fated penalty kick. Please keep your dog on a leash, sir!
The dim-witted narcissists populating Succession’s Waystar-Royco landscape don’t give us much in the way of redeeming characteristics, while Kansas native Ted Lasso and his gang are a bit more reflective of duality (and when Dr. Fieldstone shows up in Season 2, everyone—almost—gets to face their stuff). But, if you could combine the characters from these two worlds, you might find you arrive at something wonderfully three-dimensional. To see how these two shows are the mirror images of each other, look no further than how different the Ted Lasso intro changed to the Succession theme music on the clip below.
Fair warning, as you may have guessed, this article won’t make much sense unless you’ve watched a couple of the best series to come along since David Milch gave us Deadwood. And it’s full of spoilers. Sort of.
Neither show, of course, can compete with Deadwood’s sheer f-word artistry and Shakespearean underlay . . . although both give the former an effort (more on that). There’s nobody to like in Succession. We like just about everybody in Ted Lasso. But, despite the two sides of COVID-couch American life these dramas present, upon closer inspection, their characters share plenty.
Making Good Use Of The F-Word.
As stated, comparing either of these series with Deadwood in this category is just silly, as Deadwood holds the modern record with 2,980 "f--ks" and an average of 1.56 utterances of "f--k" per minute of footage. Shocking statistics unless you’ve spent any time in a parent party room at a Double-A Peewee hockey tournament.
While neither show will snatch Deadwood’s F-Word title belt, there are some .300 hitters here. Succession’s patriarch, Logan Roy, apparently has taught his children that “f--k off” is the equivalent of “talk to you soon”, and “nice to see you again.” But as the series winds into Season 3, Logan sounds like a one-trick pony. His youngest, Roman, plays it like an NHL pest, with plenty of neurotic chirping.
Meanwhile on the other side of the pond, surly Greyhound captain Roy Kent’s niece Phoebe gets rewarded with ice cream after blasting her grammar school classmates with creative profanity. Jamie Tartt has his moments of cursing brilliance, maybe? If we could only understand what he is saying in that Manchester accent more than 10% of the time. But the winner here is Roy Kent himself. Kent’s swear game is measured, it’s angry, and it’s delivered from under those psychotic eyebrows. When you can use the F-word, and this word only, to forgive someone for hitting on your girlfriend, you’ve got skills.
Daddy Issues.
Father knows best, father is flawed, father is just a complete tool—daddy issues permeate both shows. There’s Ted’s dad, who apparently was a good guy, but whose tragic exit from Ted’s life when Ted was 16 created a lifetime of problems for our hero. Again there’s Logan Roy, who seems actually to hate his children, and Kendall Roy, who nearly drowns in front of his neglected son while swilling cold ones on a floaty.
On the more positive side, we have Nigerian-wonder striker Sam Obisanya’s father, whom we never see, but who couldn’t be more proud of his son for single-handedly halting corporate environmental exploitation while still making time to score hat tricks and shag his boss. That’s my son! And we have Ted himself, a father now relegated (like his football team) to bittersweet FaceTime with his youngster across the ocean. But like a surly combination of Christian Bale in The Fighter and Eliza Doolittle’s father, Mr. James Tartt, Jamie’s father, takes the prize in this category.
If you ever find yourself (somewhat desperately) being cold-cocked by your star soccer player son in the locker room at Wembley Stadium, drunk, after he sets you up with prime seats so that you can cheer for the other team, you’ve officially done absolutely nothing right in life. As an aside, if Succession’s Tom Wamsgans and Shiv ever do actually have that test tube baby, Tom will win the worst dad award going away. That kid is screwed. But for now, congratulations to Papa Tartt.
Sisters And Brothers In Arms.
Ted Lasso himself was the inspiration for this category. Because when you can tell your usually sleeveless female boss, Rebecca Welton, that you’d love to see her arm wrestle with Michelle Obama, yet somehow avoid being escorted to the door by human resources, you’ve built some serious political capital in the workplace. Either that, or the rules are much different over in the U.K. We know the Richmond Greyhound players, who are professional athletes deserve mention here, especially Jamie in his early-series self- absorption, thinking Roy is impressed with his bicep work. As does Succession’s Siobhan “Shiv” Roy, who like Rebecca Welton, seems to have a mortal fear of any garment with sleeves. Skip the former first lady, the better card would be Rebecca versus Shiv. Shiv thinks she has her stuff straight, and doesn’t. Rebecca knows she doesn’t, but at least can admit it. We’d bet these two, as the hard luck Greyhounds do so often, would end in a draw.
I Think I Need Therapy.
Oh, where to begin. Almost every character in both shows warrants mention. The Roy family made a perfunctory run at group therapy at oldest son Conner’s place out west, until their “therapist” dove into the shallow end of the pool and wrecked his face on day one. So much for that. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Meanwhile in London, Lasso’s Dr. Fieldstone is so busy barking at Trafalgar pedestrians that she gets mowed down on her collapsible robot-bike on her way to Nelson Road to counsel the fragile Richmond egos. Note: borderline self-destructive behavior on the part of your therapist may call into question his or her general efficacy. The competition here is stiff—Lasso’s ball boy turned coach, Nate the Great, “the Wonderki(n)d”, will have a lifetime of family issues to unravel in Season 3. Kendall Roy may fall off the face of the earth if he doesn’t get help, and Ted’s assistant Coach Beard needs to read a Melody Beattie book or two. But clearly if you are texting pictures of your junk to a coworker, thirty years your senior in the middle of a board meeting, you need serious help. It’s Romulus Roy with a bullet, after his sexting misfire. As Wayne from Letterkenny would say: “sort yourself out.”
Mommy Dearest.
An interesting category, because two of the primary players here are played by the same actress, Harriet Walter. In Lasso, as Rebecca’s mother Deborah, she spends a lifetime returning to a miserable relationship, only to have her husband die before he can buy her another sports car. Then at his funeral she has to listen to her daughter tell her how she has ruined her life. In Succession, as Logan’s ex-wife and mother to three of the Roy children, the smarmy Caroline Collingwood, it is at her own wedding (“to a bowl of porridge” as Roman succinctly puts it) that she gets the same brutal honesty from daughter Shiv. Clearly, Walter’s being typecast. The dark horse here is Phoebe’s mom, Roy Kent’s sister, who according to Roy conceived Phoebe with “a living piece of s---“ and is so busy with her career as a surgeon, that she essentially seems to be letting Roy raise her daughter. No wonder the kid is drawing charcoal sketches of naked torsos in class. In the end though, it’s Collingwood. Enjoy her parenting skills on full display in the clip below.
Here’s to looking forward to fresh episode sets of both of these gems. And while a cross-over episode will never happen, we can still fantasize about Dr. Fieldstone spending couch time with the Waystar-Royco front office degenerates, or Nate and Roman bonding like long-lost brothers-from-another-mother, or Deborah and Caroline discussing the challenges of parenting strong-willed daughters . . . of course they’d have to film that in split takes. Personally, I’d like to see Logan Roy hire Roy Kent as a consultant. The blue streaks in those meetings might give Deadwood a run for its money.
