Some characters change. Some think they change. Some never change — they only learn to hide themselves better. In this section, the focus is no longer on who they are, but on what they suppress and what they dare to reveal. What truly defines a person is not what they do, but what they choose not to do. And often, the heaviest burden is that of what remains undone.

The distance between what they project and what they carry inside shapes their transformations, contradictions, and conflicts. Behind the masks lies betrayal, a show of power, or simply the struggle to exist. In Part 3, our focus is hidden in these cracks: the suppressed alter ego and uncontrollable desires.

Better Call Saul (Jimmy McGill / Saul Goodman)

Jimmy McGill’s story is not so much a fall as it is a slowly eroding decay. At first, he follows the rules, tells small lies, and tests the boundaries; but over time, that boundary fades and eventually disappears. Jimmy’s real problem is not the system; it is himself. For him, being seen, accepted, and validated is a primary need. Being belittled by Chuck and not taken seriously by the legal community does not just make him resentful; deep down, it instills the message that “I cannot exist by conforming to the system.” This breaking point shapes Jimmy’s subsequent choices and gradually reveals the deepening of his internal conflict to the audience.

Saul Goodman is not a persona Jimmy created; he is an escape. His colorful suits, quick comebacks, and boundary-pushing behavior are a wall he builds to hide his fragile inner self. But this wall always cracks. Whoever believes in his good side, Jimmy still tries to preserve it; yet he no longer believes in it himself. This duality is felt in every move, in every line; Jimmy does not act on what he knows is right, but on what is inevitable. Saul, therefore, does not serve as a salvation, but as a mask that conceals the character’s inner conflict.

Jimmy’s drama offers the audience an experience that is both captivating and unsettling. His successes and failures are not about breaking rules; they are about making peace—or failing to make peace—with his own identity. Every choice reveals his suppressed desires, fears, and vulnerabilities. Jimmy struggles not to overcome the system, but to endure himself. In this journey, the audience experiences not only legal and ethical conflicts but also the boundaries of human nature, internal dualities, and the power of the suppressed alter ego.

Banshee (Lucas Hood)

Lucas Hood’s world is a field where suppressed physical and mental emotions explode. Hood’s identity is not a mystery; on the contrary, he knows exactly who he is, and for that reason, he cannot escape himself. Every name change, every attempt to erase the past fails, because a person cannot run from themselves. The violence inside him is the language of what has been suppressed. Every fight, every outburst, every loss of control is an expression of his inner world, directly showing the audience his chaotic state of mind.

Hood’s complexity is not simply a matter of “good versus evil.” He uncontrollably manifests his suppressed desires, insecurities, and struggles with belonging. When he tries to run, he sabotages himself; even when the possibility of a normal life appears, his inner chaos pushes him back. This internal conflict shows the audience that Hood’s freedom is limited, and chaos is the only familiar order he knows.

In Banshee, chaos is equivalent to the character’s language and reality. Hood’s outbursts are not just action; they are the visible form of what has been suppressed. The audience, witnessing each loss of control, confronts his freedom while also questioning their own suppressed emotions. For this reason, Banshee is not merely a crime or action series; it is a character study built on the uncontrollable desires and suppressed alter ego within a human being.

House of Cards (Frank Underwood)

Frank Underwood is not fragile; he is inherently consistent. He has no cracks, and for that reason, he is completely distinct from other characters. Watching him is unsettling because he is entirely in control. Inside, there is no conscience, guilt, or moral dilemma; people and events are merely tools for him. He is aware of emotions, but he uses them not as personal weaknesses, but as instruments for manipulation. Since Frank’s nature does not involve inner conflict, the tension in the series does not stem from his internal struggle, but from the effect he exerts on the outside world and those around him. What makes viewers uncomfortable is how this immorality aligns with efficiency and effectiveness; in moments of success, his actions appear justified, disrupting the moral compass.

Frank’s power does not come from instinctive reactions or emotional impulses. He bases every move on long-term strategy. He carefully observes people, their weaknesses, and fears, waits for the right moment, and by the time he acts, the game is already over. His plans are not just one step but encompass dozens of moves, often concluding before others even notice. Therefore, the most unsettling aspect of watching Frank is that he is always several steps ahead; viewers are not witnessing someone losing control, but a master who calculates everything. His outward expression magnifies the already broken and decayed system. Every manipulation makes the system function more rigidly and efficiently, and he does this without changing himself.

Ultimately, there is no change in Frank Underwood; the only thing that changes is the world around him and the impact he exerts on it. The system is corrupt, human nature is dark, and Frank simply uses it. His tragedy is not his own, but his cold-blooded perfection. The sense of unease he evokes comes from the visibility of his control over power and relentless consistency. Frank is more than a character; he is the most potent expression of a decayed order, and watching him is an experience of setting aside moral judgment to witness efficiency and strategy in action.

Succession (Kendall Roy)

Kendall Roy’s story is the tragedy of inner emptiness. His problem is not gaining power; it’s the unfillable void within. The shadow of his father, Logan Roy, is ever-present, invisible yet omnipresent; in every decision, Logan’s voice echoes, critical and disapproving. Logan is not only an authority figure but also an internal measure that makes Kendall constantly question his worth.

Kendall’s alter ego is both a willing and desperate agent of destruction. The emptiness he tries to suppress surfaces unexpectedly. In public, he appears strong and decisive; in private, anxiety and despair dissolve his façade. Each rise, each success slightly breaks him; each loss makes the void more visible. This is no ordinary power struggle—it is a man waging a constant battle with his inadequacy, his father’s shadow, and his own fragility.

Watching Kendall is like witnessing a child’s incompleteness transplanted into an adult world. His father’s harsh, manipulative nature fuels fear and anxiety in every move. Sibling rivalry pushes him toward both gaining power and defending himself. The tragic truth: he seems successful and confident externally, but internally he fights the same fears and insecurities he had as a child.

For Kendall, power cannot fill the emptiness; his alter ego, a product of self-defense and revenge, operates beyond his control. No matter how high he rises or how much he wins, the void never fully closes. This is what makes Succession and Kendall unique: success is external, but inner incompleteness and suppressed vulnerability remain visible.