A
s Kendall
Roy, an heir to
a Murdoch-
like family
media empire
competing
with his sib-
lings for primacy, power and
paternal approval on HBO’s
“Succession,” Jeremy Strong has
gone through the wringer.
In two seasons, the actor, 40,
has embodied Kendall as he has
been undermined by his father,
tormented by his own short-
comings and misdeeds, and
hollowed out by addiction. All
the while, Strong has made us
care about this wealthy, jet-
NEW YORK
setting mess of a man.
Sitting in a modest conference
room in New York’s Hudson
Yards, sporting a scraggly beard
(he’s portraying Jerry Rubin in
Aaron Sorkin’s “The Trial of the
Chicago 7”), earth-toned clothing
suitable for a Yale English-lit grad
(which he is) and a silver neck-
lace bearing his 18-month-old
daughter’s footprint (his second
child is due as we speak), and
peppering his conversation with
references to writers and artists
(Balzac, Rilke, Twombly, Ferlin-
ghetti, among many others),
Strong muses on why audiences
are invested in Kendall and the
Roys.
“You can be human and also
reprehensible,” Strong observes.
“These people are wounded,
damaged by their legacy. I try to
bring as much empathy as I can.”
Why did “Succession” appeal
to you?
I had worked with [executive
producer] Adam McKay on “The
Big Short.” He’s slowly making a
composite picture of the maladies
afflicting American society. “The
Big Short” was an indictment of
the banking system, “Vice” of the
political culture. “Succession” felt
like his attempt to talk about the
cancerous families at the nucleus
of the power elite running the
country. Adam said the script was
like “King Lear” meets the media
industrial complex, and I’ve
always been fascinated by the
media world and the Shakespear-
ean dramas that play out in it.
People acting out of a desire,
maybe misplaced, for power to
fill some need in themselves felt
like rich terrain.
And Kendall?
Actually, initially I was drawn
to Roman [the role that eventu-
ally went to Kieran Culkin]. He
felt like this bon vivant [jerk],
and I thought, “Oh, I haven’t
done that before.” But [creator
Jesse Armstrong] was interested
in me for Kendall, and after
spending time with the script, I
realized this was the role of a
lifetime, an archetypal modern
antihero.
The show’s themes seem
timely.
We did our first-episode table
read on election night [2016] and
started the pilot the next day. The
world changed. Suddenly this
show felt more central because
it’s talking about that intersection
of politics, media, power and
dysfunction — and what happens
when a family with this much
power also has this credo of
domination, winning, success as a
virtue and aggression. Then that
aggression plays out on a global
scale like what’s happening in our
world. It’s going right for the
cultural jugular.
For instance?
In one of Michael Wolff ’s
books, one of the Murdoch kids,
Lachlan or James, said the only
language their father understood
was the language of strength.
That’s fascinating. What if
strength is not your native lan-
guage? Which is true for Kendall.
Strength might be his father’s
native language. Logan is a primal
force: dominating, ruthless,
savage and primitive. But his kids
are more sensitized and damaged.
I also draw on Shakespeare.
There’s a line in “Richard III”: “I
am in so far in blood that sin will
pluck on sin.” This idea of the
erosion of any ethical core, moral
boundaries that Kendall crosses
again and again to get what he
wants.
Also on a personal level it’s
essential to bring yourself fully to
a role. That’s been the biggest
challenge. Kendall’s at the ninth
circle of hell; the worst things
you could imagine have befallen
him. Trying to embody that has
been difficult.
Playing Kendall must cost a
lot personally.
It also gives you a lot. It’s
exhilarating to lose yourself in a
scene. But there have been
scenes, and months, where I felt
like the light had been extin-
guished in Kendall’s life and tried
not to permit myself to have any
light either. While everyone is
having fun on set, I rigorously
held myself to the stricture of the
deficit of those things that
Kendall had. Rereading “Crime
and Punishment” helped me find
that sense of isolation. And you
take it home with you.
But you need to bring life-
and-death stakes to the material,
to treat it like it’s your life. Nor-
wegian writer Karl Ove Knaus-
gaard, in “My Struggle,” said, “I
have taken great risks by not
pretending.” This is pretend, but I
want to embed within it some-
thing deadly serious and real. 8
Michael NagleFor The Times
SAG AWARDS | TELEVISION
He feels for
a scoundrel
In ‘Succession,’
Jeremy Strong
endeavors to create
real empathy for
a struggling but
powerful media heir.
BY AMY REITER
S36
THE ENVELOPE LOS ANGELES TIMES TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2019