Binge Watching 'Succession' Isn't Political or Self-Care – It's Just Fun

Last weekend, I spent most of my time in bed. I had a prolonged headache and my response to any sort of under-the-weather-ness is to behave like a woman with a fainting disease who has to eat only crisps in order to survive. Unfortunately, however, as my banging head refused to let up for a couple of days, I needed something other than Co-Op Spicy Thai Style Crackers to occupy my time, so I did one of my favourite things: binge watching a new show.

The thing about binge watching is that it is, quite simply, one of the best ways of spending time ever conceived of (late capitalism, thank you.) My proclivity for it is almost certainly borne out of the fact that watching TV has been one of my favourite activities since I was a kid, and would cuddle up alongside my grandparents basically every weeknight with a saucer of Jacob’s crackers ft. Cathedral City on my lap, waiting eagerly for more Emmerdale b2b Coronation Street b2b Eastenders action than any eight-year-old strictly ought to have.

I love the ritual of watching TV – preparing a snack beforehand, getting comfy – and generally enjoy TV shows more than films, just because I like immersing myself in complex, long-running narratives. During some frankly horrendous periods, I’ve turned to binge watching as a comfort and a distraction. Even now I think fondly of Gordon Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen (it’s quite possible that I’m the only person on the planet who ever thinks fondly of Hell’s Kitchen) and Gilmore Girls, both of which were rare sources of enjoyment during my worst depressive episode. Equally, however, I binge watch when I’m happy, because fundamentally – outside of any grand statements about “The Power of Binge Watching” or anything like that – I just think it’s really fun.

I’m not the only one. According to a 2018 poll carried out in the US by the Hollywood Reporter and research company Morning Consult, 60 percent of the TV-watching adults surveyed said they binge watch (which they term as watching two or more episodes of a show in one sitting) at least once a week, with 50 percent of the Gen Z respondents, and 38 percent of millennials admitting that they’ve cancelled social plans to carry on watching a TV show (which, mood.) Binge watching has mass appeal because as long as there are episodes of a show online, you can binge watch it – it accounts for all tastes, and its continued relevance to our cultural moment was even referenced by an episode of Euphoria recently, when Zendaya’s character Rue’s storyline involved binge watching old episodes of Love Island.

It takes all sorts: in the past couple of months, I have binge watched Stath Lets Flats, GameFace, and Gemma Collins: Diva Forever either alone or with friends, but last weekend it was the turn of Succession, the HBO family drama from Peep Show co-creator Jesse Armstrong. If you are yet to succumb to the approximately twenty people in your life going “omg watch Succession” at you, a brief overview is that it is a fast-moving ensemble show about the Roys, a media clan with Murdoch-levels of power, influence and money, where Kieran Culkin – in what may be the performance of his life – swears a lot. It features a pacey narrative and god tier insults (“Dickless Dickleby”) and if I am to be truly real with you, as I type this right now I am not thinking about the Craft of Writing at all (I am sorry to have failed you), but instead am just fantasising about how excited I am to go home and watch Succession.

While this is, admittedly, not great for some of the other areas of my life (for example the ones that involve socialising), the sign of an effective TV show – in particular a show with a fictional narrative – is that it gets under your skin in some way. In the case of Succession, this has basically just very quickly manifested in having to stop myself from telling everyone who speaks to me to “Fuck off” like literally every character in the show (save for sweet Cousin Greg, #GregHeads stand up), but weirdly, this just feels like part of the pleasure of binge watching – of being in that show’s particular bubble.

Succession lends itself particularly well to prolonged viewing because it’s so dynamic – though each episode is an hour long (so if you watch any more than two in a night it’s basically the same as watching the Fellowship of the Ring Director’s Cut, i.e. brilliant), it’s so snappy and eventful that it’s easy to want to watch another episode as soon as you’ve seen one – I truly cannot wait to see how the members of this family will stab each other in the back next, so much so that I load up another episode and the next thing I know it’s 2AM.

It’s trite to say that in an era where the news is terrible, the prospect of totally losing yourself in a narrative removed from your real life is attractive, but it is at least partly true (though of course, we have a responsibility to engage now more than ever – like, yes, you can definitely watch Instant Hotel for four hours, of course, live your truth, but at the same time it’s possible to also consider going on a climate strike or changing your approach to sustainability, right?) In a way, though, this also negates the pure fun of binge watching in and of itself – not to mention the fact that for me, Succession’s media world power plays are what I see scrolling Twitter every day, and yet some masochistic part of me is desperate to see what happens next.

There’s a type of simple self-indulgence inherent in binge watching, and as a deeply self-indulgent person, that appeals to me. I don’t wish to label the act of watching a TV show ‘political’ or ‘self-care’ or anything like that – I just really like it, and always have. And on that note, there are now only two hours and ten minutes until I can go home and watch Succession. Sweet, cutthroat relief.

@hiyalauren