a splinter of beautiful w e i rd n e s s will wedge itself into
the Bowery, and not a moment too soon. When the New Museum
mounted its first show in 1977 , the soon-to-be-celebrity-architect Rem
Koolhaas was finishing up Delirious New York, his ode to a lunatic, dilapi-
dated metropolis. A few years later, the writer Luc Sante arrived in Manhat-
tan and gloried in the impression that nature was swallowing it whole. “If
you walked east on Houston Street from the Bowery on a summer night,
the jungle growth of vacant blocks gave a foretaste of the impending wilder-
ness, when lianas would engird the skyscrapers and mushrooms would
cover Times Square,” he wrote. The matched forces of wild creativity and
wild decay drove the city’s hysterical dynamic in those days. Three decades
later, when the New Museum opened its first made-to-order building on
the Bowery, it was a sign of profound cultural change. The legendary bou-
levard of flophouses and despair was, in a sense, the natural habitat for a
tough, idiosyncratic organization, but the move could happen only after the
street was safe not just for artists but for art consumers, too.
The design, by the Tokyo-based firm Sanaa, caught that moment of
inflection, the swing from misery to leisure as the area’s defining character-
istic. Foreseeing change, Sanaa declined to fit meekly into the existing
PHOTOGRAPH: streetscape and instead designed a boldly idiosyncratic presence, the kindPETER
KRAMER/HBO
but to the way inherited wealth forms a
nearly unbreakable chain of influence that
stretches across decades and centuries,
becoming something uncomfortably close
to the monarchies that democracies are
theoretically an alternative to. You could
call Logan’s decision to throw out the feast
rather than deliver it to a homeless shelter
or feed it to the estate’s dogs a middle finger
to karma as well as to the poor and nature
itself (especially since—literal spoiler
alert—we learn the smell had nothing to do
with the food), but only if Logan were the
sort of person to give the notion of cosmic
justice even a cursory thought. And, reader,
he isn’t—nor is any character who shares his
DNA or cashes his paychecks. The Roys are
a billionaire clan of barbarian capitalists
who travel in fleets of helicopters and limos
as if they were the despotic royal family of a
repressive empire. In one episode, they
“hunt” boar on the grounds of an old Hun-
garian château by climbing into sniper tow-
ers and executing the animals as they’re
herded back and forth. Logan is an unholy
combination of Rupert Murdoch, Walt Dis-
ney, and Sumner Redstone, a creature of
pure greed who exists only to acquire, crush
his enemies, acquire even more, and then
pass his empire on to his successors—but
only when he’s good and ready. Until then,
to use his favorite phrase, everybody who
wants his throne can fuck off.
Yet the jockeying for power continues in
earnest. The sharpest member of the next
generation is Siobhan “Shiv” Roy (Sarah
Snook), who has more-liberal political val-
ues and is appalled whenever the family
makes an especially cruel decision; but
she rarely goes further than voicing
qualms, and she acts against the others
only when they’re threatening to take
away money or power that she believes
should be hers. She consistently pushes
back against Logan’s alpha-male bluster
and he seems to respect her for this, but
when he indicates that he’s grooming her
to take over the company, you have to
wonder if he really means it, because (a)
he’s unthinkingly sexist, and (b) like a cer-
tain president whose name starts with T,
he sows rivalry and resentment in his own
inner circle to fortify his grip on power
and position every member as a potential
weapon against every other member, just
in case. Shiv’s husband, Tom Wambsgans
(Matthew Macfadyen), is a nattering boob
who accepts Shiv’s constant humiliating
infidelities because of the power, money,
and access their relationship provides. His
father-in-law installs him as chairman of
the company’s cable-news channel, a Fox
News–like geyser of right-wing dogma
whose main purpose is to influence gov-
ernment policy and the markets; the jointruns itself, which is why Tom’s incompe-
tence poses no threat to it.
Some parts of the company are more suc-
cessful than others, but it’s a testament to
Logan’s stewardship that there’s just so
much of it that the totality is still a sturdy
and terrifying conglomerate. And the indi-
vidual parts of the machine are on message,
financially and philosophically, to a point
where it scarcely seems to matter which
family member “supervises” them. Logan
had originally placed one of his underquali-
fied yet self-important sons, Roman
(Kieran Culkin), in charge of the company’s
movie studio, then switched him to the
aeronautics division, where he pushed for
the premature launch of a rocket that blows
up on the launchpad. (No one dies, but one
crew member loses an arm; the Logans
consider this a win.)
Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong), a drug
addict who’s in and out of recovery, was
once the heir apparent, but now he’s in pro-
bationary purgatory after killing a man in a
Chappaquiddick-like car accident at the
end of season one, a crime his father’s goons
covered up. Kendall had originally helped
mastermind the attempted takeover but is
now loyal to his old man, to the extent ofinterrupting a stay at a Scandinavian spa to
go on TV to announce that he has switched
his allegiance because “Dad’s plan was bet-
ter.” This is a bitter callback to the pilot,
where Kendall reacted with defensive fury
to any intimation that he took orders from
his father. Dad’s plan is to bend everyone to
his will, morality and kindness be damned,
and Kendall, like the rest of the gang, is fine
with it because, to quote a famous line from
Mad Men, that’s what the money is for.
The majority of shows about rich and/or
antiheroic characters encourage viewers to
feel sympathy for hollowed-out, corrupt
people like these via the simple alchemy of
watching them each week and identifying
with them over time. But the acid-bath
viciousness of Succession prevents the
usual mechanism of identification from
snapping into place. You feel for a Kendall
or a Shiv in the way you might feel for an
apex predator in a wildlife documentary
that fell off a cliff while chasing its prey.
You watch the Roys with something akin
to scientific fascination. We’re learning
about how the monsters live and repro-
duce and dominate us generation after
generation. They’re up in the hunting tow-
ers, and we’re the boars. ■Post-Delirious New York
Rem Koolhaas finally gets a big
Manhattan commission,
the New Museum expansion.
ARCHITECTURE / JUSTIN DAVIDSONaugust 5–18, 2019 | new york 67Y ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EICADVANCED FORMTRANSMITTED
________ COPY ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EIC1619CR_critics_lay [Print]_35566550.indd 67 8/1/19 6:05 PMa splinterofbeautifulw e i rd n e s swillwedge itselfinto
theBowery, andnota momenttoosoon.WhentheNewMuseum
mounteditsfirst showin 1977 , thesoon-to-be-celebrity-architectRem
KoolhaaswasfinishingupDeliriousNewYork, hisodetoa lunatic,dilapi-
datedmetropolis.A few yearslater,thewriterLucSantearrivedinManhat-
tanandgloriedintheimpressionthat naturewasswallowingit whole.“If
youwalkedeast onHoustonStreetfromtheBowery ona summernight,
thejunglegrowthof vacantblocksgavea foretasteof theimpendingwilder-
ness,whenlianaswouldengirdtheskyscrapersandmushroomswould
coverTimesSquare,”hewrote.Thematchedforcesofwildcreativityand
wilddecaydrovethecity’shystericaldynamicinthosedays.Threedecades
later, whentheNewMuseumopeneditsfirstmade-to-orderbuildingon
theBowery, it wasa signofprofoundculturalchange. Thelegendarybou-
levardofflophousesanddespairwas,ina sense,thenaturalhabitat fora
tough,idiosyncraticorganization,butthemovecouldhappenonlyafterthe
streetwassafenotjust forartistsbutforart consumers,too.
Thedesign,bytheTokyo-basedfirmSanaa,caughtthat momentof
inflection,theswingfrommisery toleisure asthearea’sdefiningcharacter-
istic.Foreseeingchange,Sanaadeclinedtofit meeklyintotheexisting
PHOTOGRAPH: streetscapeandinsteaddesigneda boldlyidiosyncraticpresence,thekind
PETER
KRAMER/HBO
but to the way inherited wealth forms a
nearly unbreakable chain of influence that
stretches across decades and centuries,
becoming something uncomfortably close
to the monarchies that democracies are
theoretically an alternative to. You could
call Logan’s decision to throw out the feast
rather than deliver it to a homeless shelter
or feed it to the estate’s dogs a middle finger
to karma as well as to the poor and nature
itself (especially since—literal spoiler
alert—we learn the smell had nothing to do
with the food), but only if Logan were the
sort of person to give the notion of cosmic
justice even a cursory thought. And, reader,
he isn’t—nor is any character who shares his
DNA or cashes his paychecks. The Roys are
a billionaire clan of barbarian capitalists
who travel in fleets of helicopters and limos
as if they were the despotic royal family of a
repressive empire. In one episode, they
“hunt” boar on the grounds of an old Hun-
garian château by climbing into sniper tow-
ers and executing the animals as they’re
herded back and forth. Logan is an unholy
combination of Rupert Murdoch, Walt Dis-
ney, and Sumner Redstone, a creature of
pure greed who exists only to acquire, crush
his enemies, acquire even more, and then
pass his empire on to his successors—but
only when he’s good and ready. Until then,
to use his favorite phrase, everybody who
wants his throne can fuck off.
Yet the jockeying for power continues in
earnest. The sharpest member of the next
generation is Siobhan “Shiv” Roy (Sarah
Snook), who has more-liberal political val-
ues and is appalled whenever the family
makes an especially cruel decision; but
she rarely goes further than voicing
qualms, and she acts against the others
only when they’re threatening to take
away money or power that she believes
should be hers. She consistently pushes
back against Logan’s alpha-male bluster
and he seems to respect her for this,but
when he indicates that he’s grooming her
to take over the company, you have to
wonder if he really means it, because (a)
he’s unthinkingly sexist, and (b) like a cer-
tain president whose name starts with T,
he sows rivalry and resentment in his own
inner circle to fortify his grip on power
and position every member as a potential
weapon against every other member, just
in case. Shiv’s husband, Tom Wambsgans
(Matthew Macfadyen), is a nattering boob
who accepts Shiv’s constant humiliating
infidelities because of the power, money,
and access their relationship provides. His
father-in-law installs him as chairman of
the company’s cable-news channel, a Fox
News–like geyser of right-wing dogma
whose main purpose is to influence gov-
ernment policy and the markets; the jointruns itself, which is why Tom’s incompe-
tence poses no threat to it.
Some parts of the company aremore suc-
cessful than others, but it’s a testamentto
Logan’s stewardship that there’sjust so
much of it that the totality is stilla sturdy
and terrifying conglomerate. Andtheindi-
vidual parts of the machine are onmessage,
financially and philosophically, toa point
where it scarcely seems to matterwhich
family member “supervises” them.Logan
had originally placed one of his underquali-
fied yet self-important sons, Roman
(Kieran Culkin), in charge of the company’s
movie studio, then switched himtothe
aeronautics division, where he pushedfor
the premature launch of a rocket thatblows
up on the launchpad. (No one dies,butone
crew member loses an arm; theLogans
consider this a win.)
Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong),a drug
addict who’s in and out of recovery,was
once the heir apparent, but now he’s inpro-
bationary purgatory after killing amanina
Chappaquiddick-like car accidentat the
end of season one, a crime his father’s goons
covered up. Kendall had originallyhelped
mastermind the attempted takeoverbutis
now loyal to his old man, to theextentofinterrupting a stay at a Scandinavian spa to
go on TV to announce that he has switched
his allegiance because “Dad’s plan was bet-
ter.” This is a bitter callback to the pilot,
where Kendall reacted with defensive fury
to any intimation that he took orders from
his father. Dad’s plan is to bend everyone to
his will, morality and kindness be damned,
and Kendall, like the rest of the gang, is fine
with it because, to quote a famous line from
Mad Men, that’s what the money is for.
The majority of shows about rich and/or
antiheroic characters encourage viewers to
feel sympathy for hollowed-out, corrupt
people like these via the simple alchemy of
watching them each week and identifying
with them over time. But the acid-bath
viciousness of Succession prevents the
usual mechanism of identification from
snapping into place. You feel for a Kendall
or a Shiv in the way you might feel for an
apex predator in a wildlife documentary
that fell off a cliff while chasing its prey.
You watch the Roys with something akin
to scientific fascination. We’re learning
about how the monsters live and repro-
duce and dominate us generation after
generation. They’re up in the hunting tow-
ers, and we’re the boars. ■Post-DeliriousNewYorkRemKoolhaasfinallygetsa bigManhattancommission,theNew Museumexpansion.ARCHITECTURE / JUSTIN DAVIDSONaugust 5–18, 2019 | new york 67