Ahead of its season four premiere, I spent the entire week watching all three seasons of HBO’s Industry for the first time. It’s the perfect cross between Succession and Euphoria (if it was well written and every single character was sexually fluid).
I was completely enthralled by its story of characters navigating the cutthroat world of the London financial sector. Particularly, I’m drawn to the core two female leads: Harper Stern (Myhal’a) and Yasmin Kara-Hanani (Marisa Abela), who come from very different backgrounds and underwent separate traumas in their youth, which tests their complex relationship and shapes their conviction to maintain power in this realm, sometimes stepping on each other’s toes, if not outright stomping on the other along the way. They’re the epitome of the “Are They Lovers? Worse” meme. And then there’s the other core player: Eric Tao (Ken Leung), whose growing twisted fatherly kinship with Harper has been one of the beating hearts of the series since its pilot.
By the stirring third season finale, the office imploded, Harper and Yasmin starting new chapters. Harper goes out on her own company managed by ruthless Otto Mostyn (Roger Barclay), and Yasmin gets engaged to Henry Muck (Kit Harington) for financial security.
Transforming into a high-octane digital conspiracy thriller in an ambitious season four, this new chapter for Industry is the series at its sharpest, thrilling, and most mature to date, cementing itself as one of the best drama series currently on television.
Harper, now head of Mostyn’s short-only fund, faces an impasse, feeling she’s on a leash to protect his political career when she wants to truly become independent or at least work with someone who realizes her potential. Enter: Eric Tao whose retirement following Pierpoint’s dissolution goes as short-lived as WNBA player Tiffany Hayes.’ In one call, Harper gets her former mentor off the golf course and into business. Together, they maximize their joint short-only slay in Sterntao, targeting sketchy businesses and acting like financial vigilantes of the digital market. Meanwhile, Yasmin or “Lady Muck” sees her marriage falter as she’s become moreso Henry’s mother than his wife, as he’s been engulfed by depression and relapsing into a drug addiction caused by losing a MP vote and his 40th birthday (the age of his father’s suicide, which he witnessed).
In Season four, creators Mickey Down and Konrad Kay accomplish the rare feat of subtly renovating their world, creating a season that is as much a bolder continuation of the series as it is a standalone chapter and on-ramp for new viewers. Season four is packed with new cast members like a showstopping Max Minghella, Charlie Heaton, Kiernan Shipka as Whitney’s timid assistant Hayley, whom Yasmin gets involved with, and Toheeb Jimoh as Harper’s employee who she casually sleeps with. The freshman group gives strong performances that are boosted by sharp, character-driven dialogue. Even Sweetpea (Miriam Petche), the sole sophomore player and season three standout, develops a robust sense of conviction, particularly in the powerful episode “Eyes Without a Face.”
The series’ true essence has always been Harper, Eric, Yasmin, and even Sagar Radia’s Rishi, trying to carve their space in their competitive world. However, they are all confronted with critical turning points when they fall out of the frying pan (Pierpoint) and into the fire, under a more espionage-like environment in a world perpetually changing, with a concurrent fascism-affected state and a culture rife with grifters and fraudsters.
Season four challenges each essential player’s limits and moralities, leading to jaw-dropping twists, turns, and painful heartbreak. Even season three’s darkest story turns end up topped. Some of the characters — who were initially portrayed as hardened — gradually shed their scales and reveal their vulnerability unlike ever before. Industry is one of the few shows these days to treat its characters as growing individuals.
Eric, Harper, and Yasmin in particular demonstrate a well-known sense of trust and concern for one another, attempting to reconcile from the trauma and deep flaws based on their past and/or present. This aligns with the interpersonal transitions they each experience this season, including regret, aging, and grief. More specifically, the dynamics between Harper and Eric and Harper and Yasmin have evolved to a point where they’re able to recognize their insecurities. The poignant dialogue, together with the stellar central performances, lead to earnest, tearjerking scenes exemplifying the kinship these characters share with one another.
This show belongs to Myha’la, Marisa Abela, and Ken Leung, and they all produce exceptional work that is both emotionally intense and impactful. Harper Stern remains one of the best Black antiheroes in TV history, alongside Olivia Pope and Annalise Keating. Myha’la continues to astound in peeling back Harper’s psyche and relationship with her womanhood in a new challenging environment. Yasmin’s marital odyssey with Henry enables Marisa Abela to remain at the pinnacle of her abilities. Leung, who imbues Eric with such nuanced wisdom and grit, delivers the most powerful, emotional work he’s ever done in the series, particularly in key later episodes paramount to the overall SternTao dynamic.
I’ve often respected how when characters are revealed to be sexually fluid, it’s not the tired “gotcha” reveal but an added layer to their character. The season sees Henry in a love triangle involving his wife and Whitney, as he becomes more entrenched in Tender and she sees herself become second fiddle. However, my heart will always be with YasHarper. But everyone knows that being a YasHarper shipper — like Myha’la — is both a blessing and a curse. They really embody vulnerability together, in tender, subtle ways. The scene from the trailer that includes the line “can you look after me tonight,” when put in context, is a beautiful culmination of their relationship’s odyssey up to that point. It rips your heart out of your chest. Again: “Are they lovers? Worse.”
Industry’s substantial growth in emotionality — combined with a broadened scope and genre overhaul that amounts to the best Michael Mann movie never made — cements it as one of the best shows currently on television. I hope its creators and day-one core cast finally receive the belated recognition they deserve in both the future awards space and viewership, as they should have since the beginning of the series.
