“When you’re born with a silver spoon in your mouth, people are going to assume you’re an idiot,” says Henry Muck, as he nurses a glass of wine in one of London’s most exclusive, dimly-lit dinner spots. His father used to tell him this all the time, apparently.
Henry, played by Kit Harrington, is a new character in HBO’s Industry—a drama that follows the messy lives of financiers at London-based bank, Pierpoint. After two episodes of the third season, we’ve learned that Henry is an old-money nepo baby. (Or as he said himself: a “posh c–t.”) But as the CEO of green energy startup Lumi, he is also desperate to fill his late father’s shoes.
Henry’s arrival in Industry feels like a purposeful move toward dissecting the show’s central theme of strained parent-child relationships. Most of the characters are dealing with a parental figure who has disappointed, abandoned, or abused them. (And some are doing that to their own kids, too.) On the face of things, it might seem that the HBO drama is all about money and dodgy dealings—or even kinky, drug-fuelled sex. But it's also a compelling study of mommy and daddy issues. (Or, for the majority-British cast, “mummy” and daddy issues.)
(Warning: Spoilers ahead for Season 3 of Industry.)
Harry Lawtey and Kit Harrington in Episdoe 2 of Season 3 of Industry.
Simon Ridgway/HBOYasmin Kara-Hanani (Marisa Abela) is the main character in Industry’s third season. We last saw her falling out with her father, Charles—a wealthy and sleazy publishing magnate who, at the end of Season 2, cut her off and changed the locks on their west London townhouse after she challenged him on his behavior. This season kicks off with another blazing row between Yasmin and Charles—this time, aboard their family yacht in the mediterranean—where Yasmin walks in on her father and a pregnant stewardess having sex in her bed.
We then fast-forward to months later, when Yasmin’s father has disappeared off the face of the earth amid an embezzlement scandal. The rumors are that he fled the yacht on a dinghy to escape the authorities. And now, tabloid photographers are stalking Yasmin’s every move, portraying her as a party-girl heiress who is spending daddy’s stolen money, when in reality she’s broke and traumatized.
Throughout the season, we see more flashbacks of what really happened on the yacht. In Episode 2, Yasmin’s father gets on top of her and throws a glass of red wine all over her. (In response, she spits in his face.) We soon learn more about their messed up, abusive relationship. When Yasmin finds sanctuary in Henry (a wealthy aristocrat with his own baggage), it’s clear she has a habit of repeating these dynamics with men, who oscillate between objectifying and underestimating her.
The other characters in Industry are similarly defined by their parental relationships. At the start of the season, Robert Spearing (Harry Lawtey) once again seeks out Nicole, a wealthy (and foul-mouthed) Pierpoint client who engages in inappropriate behavior with younger employees. There is a touching class solidarity between Nicole and Rob—two people from poor backgrounds, who now run in elite circles—but she still uses her seniority in age and financial status as methods of controlling and, often, demeaning him. In Episode 2, as the pair sleep next to each other, Nicole suddenly dies, leaving Rob devastated as he relives the death of his mother. He asks Yasmin: “Do you think I’m cursed? It’s just that everyone dies.”
Then there is Harper Stern (Myha'la Herrold). In the Season 2 finale, the show’s former Main Character was unceremoniously fired from Pierpoint by her mentor, Eric Tao (Ken Leung), who revealed that she lied about being a university graduate on her job application. Now, she’s on the hunt for redemption and revenge. Harper seems to have a talent for ingratiating herself with father figures like Eric, or billionaire Jesse Bloom (Jay Duplass), who took her under his wing last season. Harper’s relationship with her own father was destroyed by his addiction issues, which might be why she is so determined to get even with Eric—a paternal figure who she feels betrayed by.
Speaking of Eric, Industry’s third season also shows us parents who are doing their best to fuck up the next generation, too. In the midst of an acrimonious divorce, Eric’s drinking and conduct at work becomes erratic. Trapped in a midlife crisis, he neglects his own daughters, turning his junior staffers into babysitters as they appear on the trading floor at random intervals.
And finally we have Rishi (Sagar Radia). Pierpoint’s resident foul-mouthed chauvinist has an out-of-control gambling addiction. As he puts himself in increasingly risky situations to settle his debts, Rishi’s wife and baby son are ignored at home. (Things only get worse for him as the season continues. Much worse. Like, whew.)
This type of familial trauma tends to be a theme of shows dissecting the lives of the super-rich. In Succession, the Roy siblings are all scarred in different ways by their relationship with patriarch media mogul Logan Roy. And in The Crown, Netflix’s dramatized royal history, Britain’s most elite family frequently go to war behind the gilded palace doors. From The White Lotus to Knives Out, toxic family dynamics are central to “eat the rich!” satire, too.
In the pre-“eat the rich!” era, one of my favorite lines in Desperate Housewives came from Wisteria Lane’s most spoiled and savvy housewife, Gabrielle Solis. When she hears the phrase “money can’t buy happiness,” she replies: “That's just a lie we tell poor people to keep them from rioting!”
Marisa Abela
Nick Strasburg/HBOThis proverb, which scientists also suspect is statistically untrue, seems to be one of the central theses of Industry, where most characters are rich and miserable. Perhaps the show’s loudest truth is that it’s not possible to maintain generational wealth without also passing down trauma. And the third season makes clear that its characters would rather have both, and remain in the elite fold, than have neither.
In the second episode of Season 3, Henry Muck’s Lumi stock goes public. Despite his desperation to step out of his late father’s shadow, the IPO kickstarts a downward spiral. While all of this chaos unfolds, Yasmin becomes overwhelmed by the constant shouting and ringing of the telephone, so Eric gives her a pep talk. “This is just people pushing buttons,” he explains. “This is all smoke and mirrors, but it’s indivisible from reality. We make reality.”
At various points in Industry, it’s easy to assume that money isn’t real and is instead generated by knowing a bunch of made up rules, buzzwords, and, crucially, the right people. But this is shattered when the show focuses on the human price of being at the top. The entitlement that money gives people to hurt others—even, or especially, their own offspring—is chillingly real. Generational trauma is a cost of doing business.
