Why the volatile marriages of prestige TV prove time and again to be their show's most compelling relationships.
By Alexis Puthussery
Sarah Snook and Matthew Macfadyen in the season 2 finale of Succession / photo: HBO
“I wonder if the sad I’d be without you would be less than the sad I get from being with you”, Tom Wambsgans tells his wife, Shiv Roy as they sit beachside. He refuses to look at her while she can only stare at him, incredulous and taken aback by what he’s just said. It is one of the most honest moments in their painfully awkward and often awkwardly painful marriage. Their relationship is one of countless power plays and backstabs, of words flung like darts, each conversation made a game aiming to hurt. One is always afraid to stand up for the other, and so they never do, constantly watching as the other is taken advantage of or humiliated by those around them. Hugs and compromise and kisses and sacrifice are not missing in total, but they are rare and are immediately undermined by a verbal barb or manipulative business maneuver in the next scene. Yet through every hurtful word and betrayal, Tom and Shiv stay married as a miserable unit, steeped together in their growing resentment and dependency on the presence of each other in their lives.
They are also one of my favorite relationships on Succession.
With Succession being television’s current prestige TV darling, Tom and Shiv’s relationship is essential as they act as the “failmarriage” of the series. Almost every critically acclaimed show has theirs. Tony and Carmela Soprano, Don and Betty Draper, and Saul Goodman and Kim Wexler all preceded Tom and Shiv and proved to be some of the best dynamics in their respective shows. A dark sided “will they won't they”, failmarriages do not ask the question of whether a pair will get together, but rather whether an already established couple will fall apart. Screaming matches, empty reassurances, thrown objects across the room, earnest confessions of love, and packed suitcases at the doorstep of the home create these toxic relationships. It can get physically tiring to watch these couples go back and forth, yet at the same time their relationships often provide an odd catharsis and for me, often end up being the most interesting relationship on a show.
What’s the point of watching a relationship dripping with volatility? On the surface level, in most cases the actors playing these relationships have been phenomenal. January Jones’ and Jon Hamm’s quiet frustration for each other shone through their idyllic 1960s home. Sarah Snook’s and Matthew Macfadyen’s charged scenes together, filled with hurtful glances and faces red with shame are highlights of episodes. James Gandolfini’s and Edie Falco’s kitchen table escalations went down as some of the best scenes in television history. Who wouldn’t want to watch two incredible actors at the top of their game spar in excellently written scenes?
But there’s more to it than that.
There’s a certain catharsis in seeing the nastiest, most vicious parts of ourselves fleshed out and shown to us without having to reap the consequences. When we watch failmarriages, we end up watching our arguments that never were. We watch the petty comments that we held back and the passive aggression we kept at bay come to fruition on our screens. The infamous screaming match built on pent up frustration between Tony and Carmela from the Sopranos episode, “Christopher”, is a perfect example of this. As Carmela, in hysterics, lists the women Tony has slept with during their marriage, Tony cuts her off, pointing his finger in her face and bitingly says, “At least I never stole from you.” He doesn’t deny cheating, nor does he try to apologize for it. Instead he brings up something that Carmela did to him. It’s childish, but the viewer knows Tony is glad he can bring it up, that he has fuel in this battle of wrongdoings between the two of them. We watch the worst parts of ourselves unfold in scenes like this without having to actually go through with any of it. We keep our own lives in tact while watching theirs fall apart.
Even though there is a catharsis to be had, I don’t think the allure of it is completely in simply loving watching other people be horrible. Nietzche’s view of tragedy as described in Jennifer Gosetti-Ferencei's, On Being and Becoming states that, “the ancient Greeks excelled at the art of tragedy not because they were pessimistic people, but because they were overfull with life, a vitality that allowed for serene enjoyment of the tragic spectacle.” (84) It is this “tragic spectacle” that the failmarriage offers to the viewer. When watching the aforementioned Sopranos screaming match or Tom betraying Shiv as Nicholas Britell’s swelling score plays in the background, the viewer cannot help but be transfixed. These scenes are often the climax of their episode, season, or even series and it is the spectacle of it that contributes in part to making the failmarriage so important to the show.
The tragedy of the relationship is then entwined with a romanticism of the relationship and these two aspects are made inseparable from each other. The idea that despite every betrayal and targeted insult between the couple, there is still love for the other person underneath it all, is the romanticism of the failmarriage. The failmarriage is only tragic because of the genuine love there in the center of everything else. In the Mad Men series finale, Don Draper learns of his ex-wife Betty’s terminal cancer diagnosis. He breaks down crying and Betty gently asks him that he remain primarily absent from their childrens’ lives after she dies, as she wants to maintain normalcy for them when she’s gone. Don mournfully agrees. “Birdie”, he says tearfully over the phone, using his affectionate nickname for her, to which Betty responds with a resigned, “I know.” Even at the end of it all-- quite literally for Betty-- and despite their divorce, Don’s secrets, and his failings as a father and husband, there is a tragedy in this scene that can only arise from an earnest love from both parties.
And I suppose that’s really it. The failmarriage is earnest. The characters in the failmarriage may not be earnest with each other and the view of relationships that the failmarriage poses to the viewer may be jaded, but the failmarriage itself is earnest. It is earnest in its aggression, in its hate, in its love and in its despair. It is a flayed human being under an unflinching white light, laying everything bare for the audience to behold and even daring us to still want to see more. It captures the complete spectrum of who we are-- shame to pride, affection to aggression, hate to love. And it’s for this earnestness and brutal honesty of what may lie in the hidden recesses of our being that can only be brought to light by the horrifically right person that the failmarriage will never fail to allure me.
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