In HBO’s ‘Succession,’ the Family That Preys Together

“Succession,” the new Sunday-night drama on HBO, is about the members of a very rich family, the kind who can afford to have every desire recorded on smartphones by trailing assistants and then carried out. (When the desires aren’t pure fantasy, or excessively illegal.)

There are families this wealthy in real life, of course, like the Murdochs, who bear a few resemblances to the show’s fictional Roy family. The Roys control the world’s fifth-largest media conglomerate, whose cable-news network leans conservative. The patriarch is a crusty octogenarian with roots in traditional journalism and the British Commonwealth. His two sons are jockeying for power at the company, Waystar Royco. His third wife is fierce, striking and non-Anglo (like Rupert Murdoch’s third wife, Wendi Deng, who was born in China).

But there’s another family that the Roys resemble nearly as much, not in biographical detail but in style and tone: the Bluths of “Arrested Development,” whose fifth season just arrived on Netflix. The sense of déjà vu is strong, especially in the earlier episodes of “Succession” (seven of 10 were available for review). There are frequent moments when the camerawork, editing (quick zooms in and out) and loopy, slightly surreal dialogue suddenly recall the Bluths in all their narcissistic, clueless, hilarious glory.

Which is interesting, or at least odd, because “Succession” is primarily a straightforward family-dynasty melodrama, wrapped in chilly but ostentatious displays of wealth and favoring overheated profanity as a communication method. The balance shifts away from satire and toward drama as the season progresses, but even well into the season — when one of the Roys conducts a family-business therapy retreat, ostensibly to heal the wounds of corporate battle but really to repair the company’s image — the Bluthian impulse is strong.

It’s an uneasy combination, and while the two sides of the show’s split personality are executed well — the creator is Jesse Armstrong, who worked on the great British comedy “The Thick of It” — they don’t amplify or enrich each other in the way that was presumably intended. You can sense both sides being reined in, especially the satire, which can’t go for broke in this context.

It might be an indication of where the show’s heart, or commercial instincts, truly lie that the cast, which performs admirably, is made up of performers who are not primarily known for comedy. Brian Cox is predictably fine as the patriarch, Logan Roy, whose absent-minded benevolence is often swamped by deep tides of anger and hurt pride.

Jeremy Strong and Kieran Culkin do good work as the sons who fight for power within Waystar Royco while hungering for their father’s approval, as does Sarah Snook as their sister, a political consultant who watches from the sidelines. The distinguished Arab-Israeli actress Hiam Abbass provides some gravity as their stepmother, Roy’s apparently loyal wife, who will almost certainly turn out to have her own agenda.

These actors carry the water in the main story line, where Kendall (Strong), the older brother, tries to bring the company into the digital age (and stay sober) despite his father’s conservatism. It’s a struggle that turns bloody, and requires the taking of sides, when Roy’s health issues present Kendall with a chance to shake things up.

Meanwhile, a second set of performers, in their own connected but distinct plots, provide the comic relief: Alan Ruck as the oldest sibling, son of Roy’s first wife, who makes a show of staying out of the business while sticking his nose in wherever he can; Nicholas Braun as a bumpkin cousin who stumbles into a role at the company; and especially Matthew Macfadyen as the sister’s fiancé, a feckless suck-up out of a Waugh novel who’s Armstrong’s most original creation.

But the Roys’ battles over board seats, trusts and emotional codependence are meant to be taken seriously, and the problem with “Succession” is that the drama, while proficiently made and well acted, doesn’t have enough of a charge. The stakes don’t feel high enough, partly because the strong element of satire leaves us with the nagging feeling that everyone involved (except Logan) is a lightweight or an idiot. The Roys are halfway between the Bluths and the Corleones, which, as it turns out, isn’t that interesting a place to be.