Transfer (season 4) ★★★★★
Constituent: Jesse Armstrong
Address: Mark Mylod, Becky Martin, Lorene Scafaria
Distribution: Brian Cox, Jeremy Strong, Sarah Snook, Kieran Culkin
Country: United States of America
Duration: 56 and 84 min. (10 episodes)
Year: 2023
Gender: drama
Season finale premiere: May 29, 2023 (HBO Max)
Jesse Armstrong, the creator behind Succession, sticks the landing by concluding the series with a bold finish rather than fading away. This fourth and final season unfolds as a sharp satirical drama that blends wit with moments of brutal truth. As Kendall (Jeremy Strong), Shiv (Sarah Snook), and Roman (Kieran Culkin) entertain ambitions beyond the family, Logan (Brian Cox) remains the unseen魷force shaping outcomes. The season presents one decisive episode after another, jolting expectations and forcing reappraisals. When it seems the siblings might pursue a fresh venture, it is the patriarch who reasserts control, delivering a finale-like twist that reshapes the entire arc. A clear balance is challenged, and those who disrupt it tend to prosper.
Logan endures off the screen in a lingering way whenever the story returns to him, offering a powerful final note that could mark Kendall as the successor or merely underline the endurance of his father’s imprint. The season teases possibilities of extended influence and even echoes of modern media tricks, but keeps its feet on the ground with tangible scenes and enduring questions about power and loyalty. There is a moment where Connor’s vast, quasi-political project stands in for a broader commentary on legacy and control within a family business.
There is a sense, at every turn, that the opening line of the documentary-style opening quote about experience rings true: true experience is messy and unresolved, never neatly wrapped. The season’s voice, led by Armstrong, reminds viewers that endings and transitions rarely offer clean breaks. Even as relationships shift—Shiv and Tom’s uneasy closeness reappears after a rocky start—the show refuses to simplify the stakes. The balcony scene in a pivotal episode remains a standout moment that lingers in memory, signaling complexity rather than closure. The story does not end with a single decisive move; it hints at ongoing, imperfect evolution.
satire and humanity
The closing chapters balance sharp satire with intimate emotion. The plot moves through a spectrum of events—unsettling weddings, elite gatherings at GoJo’s Norway retreat, and the first post-election gathering without Logan at the helm—creating a tapestry where humor and heartbreak coexist. The season asks whether a brutal joke can coexist with genuine feeling, and the answer is often yes, sometimes uncomfortably so. The best satire sits beside the most human moments, a pairing that feels inevitable here.
As the finale approaches, melancholy threads deepen, drawing sympathy for characters who are pushed to their limits. Roman finds himself confronted by the consequences of Logan’s death, struggling to deliver a meaningful tribute, while Connor, once the butt of jokes, reveals glimmers of depth in moments of unexpected candor. The larger lesson surfaces in the way outcasts navigate a world that expects conformity—learning to live with family love withheld while still seeking dignity.
Yet the show remains grounded in reality and does not shy away from danger. The political undercurrents are clear in episodes that mirror real-world pressures where power, competence, and ambition collide with a fragile democratic process. The portrayal of flawed leaders and compromised loyalties serves as a timely critique of ambition without romanticism.
End of a bitter party
Any ending would unsettle the world of Waystar and the broader landscape that the series has charted. The choice between an old corporate regime and a new tech-front may seem like a mere shift, yet Armstrong treats it as a reminder: behind monumental decisions lie simpler, sometimes absurd, impulses. The finale underscores the tension between big, history-shaping moves and the everyday, human instincts that drive people to act.
Before the last act, it becomes clear that the Roy siblings struggle to share a room without friction for more than a moment. A delayed confrontation at a key meeting exposes the pain and confusion that simmer beneath a polished surface. If the scene feels cathartic, it does so without offering a neat purification or liberation for anyone involved. The experience remains intensely human, messy, and true to life.
The final episode, nearly ninety minutes long, invites a mix of tears and admiration. It leaves room for interpretation while delivering a verdict that the show has earned its place as a sharply written, richly orchestrated study of late capitalism and family dynamics. The phrase end of an era lands with weight, yet the narrative insists on its ongoing relevance—an enduring testament to the series’ impact and ambition.