Summary
Succession with salmon is a decent enough elevator pitch, but Billionaire Island is a different, more restrained show that lacks the immediate tension and thrills but offers some depth if you’re willing to fish for it.
When you think of islands and billionaires, you probably think of Jeffrey Epstein, so it’s probably a bit of a relief that Billionaire Island, Anne Bjørnstad and Eilif Skodvin’s six-part Norwegian Netflix series, is just about salmon.
Not just about salmon, obviously; it’s also about families, especially dysfunctional ones, and the interplay between industry and nature, the haves and have-nots, the powerful and the powerless. But salmon is pretty important to all of this.
Personally, I like the idea of Billionaire Island as a new reality survival show where 1%ers are left to fend for themselves, which would probably also stream on Netflix now that I think about it, but no such luck there either.
This show is instead a dry, witty dramedy about salmon farming that takes clear inspiration from Succession for its premise but Norwegian culture in general for its humour. It doesn’t have the same broad appeal as HBO’s all-timer, then, but does largely operate on the same basis – a dysfunctional family drama interwoven with the perils of corporate might, the island setting being a major player in the global fishing industry, with two wealthy families warring for total control.
On one side is Marlax, run by the Lange family, who sense an opportunity when a shareholder of their rivals, Meyer Fjordbruk, dies. Cue, naturally, tense boardroom negotiations, corporate gamesmanship (and espionage), PR stunts, major violations in ethics and standards, and so on, and so forth.
Billionaire Island doesn’t have the pace of Succession. It’s not slow or plodding by any means – it only runs six episodes and they’re all under 50 minutes – but it’s content to let things build before paying them off. That undermines the elevator pitch somewhat, but not necessarily the show, which isn’t beholden to pure imitation. There’s a slightly different vibe to things here.
It’s less sleek, for a start. There’s an earthiness about the production that feels true to the setting, and especially the Meyer family feel like relics. The Langes make a stark contrast, more glass and Range Rovers, which is the point. The age-old battle between progress and traditionalism exists in the margins, but there are more similarities between the families than meaningful differences – which, again, is the point. The Meyer patriarch, Gjert (Svein Roger Karlsen), is oppressively brusque and irritated; the Marlax CEO, Julie (Trine Wiggen), is oppressively successful.
The dysfunction spills outward and trickles down. There are overlooked children hoping to be noticed, trapped in the long spectre of familial reputation. Being noticed is a prize worth any sacrifice, so morals and ethics and lifelong connections are all fair game. A certain amount of money and power shows people who they really are.
Billionaire Island’s greatest trick is that nobody in it is that bad. The Succession comparison breaks down again when you realize this, that the show is taking a softer viewpoint that isn’t trying to relentlessly mock and condemn. The restraint is admirable if not entirely advised in the binge-watch era, when a show’s finer points and deeper nuances can’t always sustain an audience when an alternative is just one click away.
But I think it’s worth the investment. There are enough small comic and character moments to keep you going, and once you settle into the idea you’re dealing with something a bit different from what you likely expected, you’ll find a good, intriguing story here. It might not catch immediately, but recast a line and give it a while. You’ll get a bite eventually.
If you’re not worried about spoilers, I broke down the ending of Billionaire Island in depth and discussed how it sends up a potential second season.
