Once, early in the process of making the pilot for Succession, one of the actors asked me: “Who is the showrunner on this thing?” The answer was that I hoped I was. But I knew why they asked the question. I didn’t entirely feel like the showrunner, nor was I perhaps acting like one yet. But that’s one of the odd things about the term – it is a position without definition or even formal recognition. It doesn’t say “showrunner” on the credits at the end of a TV show, nor is the position listed on the call sheets of each day’s shoot. As a role it’s a little like being a cult leader: you might not hold an official title, but everyone knows who you are, and you are the figure finally responsible for setting the tone of the endeavour – whether, overall, it will tend to promote human kindness and understanding, or lean more in the direction of taking folks into the jungle as you start to break out the Flavor Aid.
Peter Biskind has plenty of examples of every style of showrunning in his enjoyable new book about US television, Pandora’s Box: The Greed, Lust and Lies That Broke Television, from the It’s Garry Shandling’s Show writing room where writer Janis Hirsch had “a flaccid penis… placed on my shoulder, you know, just for laughs” to Alan Ball’s Six Feet Under room, which Transparent creator Joey Soloway recalls as having been “like a therapy group”.
Content from our partners
