The Changing Landscape
As it expands and proliferates, TV will continue to run into the same issue with greater friction. Not a year will go by without countless lamentations regarding who was and shouldn’t have been nominated, and who wasn’t and should’ve. Or who should have won, and who shouldn’t have. A Downton Abbey lookalike will always replace a show of The Americans quality (high) and audience (miniscule). There will always be a Jeff Daniels recognized, even though the likes of Michael Sheen, Aden Young and countless others will remain without a single nomination.
That is not the fault of Emmy voters, entirely – how could it be? It’s the natural consequence of a medium that grew into something respectable, then enviable, then overwhelming. We’re at the point where nobody can watch everything, and where late-inning nominations and awards are becoming more an acknowledgment of years of work than a single season. It’s why Friday Night Lights suddenly became a heavy-hitter in its final years, and why Breaking Bad won Outstanding Drama Series for its final two years of eligibility, with masterpieces to spare in the losing column. If you look at the winners of the last decade or so, they are – holistically – the definitive (not necessarily best) drama series of the American canon. It just took some a while to get there.
This was a big year for TV. Broadcast television’s greatest success stories – critically and commercially – were accentuated by their diversity, their range and their uniqueness. How to Get Away with Murder fared extremely well in the ratings as a salacious thriller, all while giving one of the finest actors alive – Viola Davis – one of her most varied and complex roles to date. Empire, the biggest network TV hit in decades, told bold stories of class and sexuality within an exceedingly melodramatic aesthetic, and – flawed as it may have been – mined unprecedented levels of truth and impact in the process. American Crime righted the wrongs of The Slap and many (many) others, revitalizing the limited series for broadcast via a prescient confrontation with race and community.
On cable, the season’s major narratives continued to reflect the splintering of outlets – Amazon got into the game, Netflix began launching a new series per month, and all of a sudden Cinemax, Pivot and Starz had top-shelf series that were worth more than a look. Transparent, the breakout launch on Amazon, demonstrated in subject matter and in tone what this new economy could do for storytelling. The end of Mad Men, concluding to lower ratings but equal acclaim, nodded to the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. Despite their remarkable seasons, and despite the noise that critics made, neither The Americans nor Rectify – nor, depending on who you ask, The Leftovers or Bloodline – were the story. They stirred passion and are considered harbingers of quality, but as with other media, their artistic value can no longer be defined by their cultural impact. There’s too much out there; sometimes, even the best show on TV can’t make the necessary dent in the Zeitgeist.
The Turning Point
It’s easy to point to the Emmys for all they get wrong – for honoring Jeff Daniels over Jon Hamm and Bryan Cranston, or for honoring a fine but unremarkable sitcom in Modern Family for years over more creative offerings like Veep, Louie and Parks and Recreation. But it’s safe to say that, as for any judge of television, their job is incredibly difficult.
The Emmys don’t recognize quality, exactly – unintentionally but not pointlessly, their awards go by “Outstanding” rather than “Best.” Their job is to reflect a moment captured – whether by a series, or an actor, or a spellbinding episode. Modern Family hasn’t been TV’s best comedy in a while – some might (not inaccurately) argue it never was – but its astonishing winning streak reflected a difficult transitional period. TV comedy was changing, and its audience was dividing rapidly. Even the baton-passing from Everybody Loves Raymond to The Office to 30 Rock – the only Outstanding Comedy Series winners from 2005-2009 – reflected this adjustment, as with each winner came lower ratings. Modern Family could be gathered around, acting as a relic of sorts. Though that effect faded by year three, there was nothing else culturally that could take its place.
Veep and Transparent battled last night for Outstanding Comedy Series. The former is a political satire with unusual bite for an Emmy champion; the latter a different beast entirely. Save a pair of nominations that didn’t result in victories, Modern Family went unmentioned.
Veep became only the second cable series to win the big Comedy award in history, following in the footsteps of the tremendously successful and overtly groundbreaking Sex and the City. Veep’s win signals something far greater. Looking at the fall network TV slate, I’m not seeing a comedy that will rival Veep or Transparent – or other cable nominees like Louie, Silicon Valley and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt – in the coming years. We’ve entered the new era. Change never happens overnight.
Veep emerged victorious, an honoring of its ever-increasing cultural capital as well as its beloved shepherd, Armando Iannucci, who churned out four eminent seasons of political comedy before finally earning the medium’s top award. (He will not return for Veep’s fifth year.) Julia Louis-Dreyfus set a new performance Emmys record with her fourth consecutive win for Outstanding Lead Actress – there may always be worthy contenders in her company, but there remains no doubt in her dominance – while Tony Hale won his second supporting prize in three years. The show’s brilliantly civic-minded finale won the writing award, too, snagging it away from reigning champ Louis C.K. Due in part to the newly-established popular vote, but also to its incremental growth in the ratings, with critics and within culture, this was very much the year for Veep.
But Transparent’s outsized role in the conversation this year was far from overlooked. For his career-defining (and, arguably, era-defining) performance, Jeffrey Tambor won Outstanding Lead Actor and gave a tender, sensitive speech to put the night in appropriate perspective. More impressive – and an indication of how close the top race really was – was Jill Soloway’s triumph in Best Director, the deserving but under-the-radar nominee among several stand-out entrants. Soloway, too, dedicated her award to the trans community, and together with Tambor the ceremony made for a powerful acknowledgment of the series’ social impact.
New Voices, New Opportunities
By adapting to an evolving landscape, the Emmys also made room for Amy Schumer and her eponymous sketch comedy – a direct endorsement of her brazen feminist approach. Her category win contrasted with the farewell trifecta – talk show, writing and directing – for old-school variety champ The Daily Show, a rather ideal juxtaposition in terms of the genre’s shifting paradigm. Jon Stewart said goodbye with a heavy heart, while Schumer – who gave her thank-yous with crisp, teary gratitude – made her way to the big stage for the first time of likely many.
Olive Kitteridge dominated the longform categories to an extent that hasn’t been seen since Angels in America’s total sweep in 2004. The HBO humanist epic was directed by Lisa Cholodenko, written by Jane Anderson and toplined by Frances McDormand – as woman-driven a production as you can get, and as awards bodies across media have utterly neglected. This year, the trio swept, with Cholodenko joining Soloway to create a female majority among directing winners for the first time ever (and remember, Oscar has honored exactly one woman in its entire history). Both were the clear choices in unusually strong categories. Richard Jenkins, the great character actor who came in somehow without a major industry award, finally broke through with Outstanding Lead Actor, while – benefiting from the popular vote – Bill Murray outdid better competition for the supporting win.
Perhaps the night’s most unexpected win came in the one longform category I’ve yet to mention – Outstanding Supporting Actress. There, you had Kathy Bates and Angela Bassett competing as popular ballot favorites; Olive Kitteridge’s Zoe Kazan in case Olive carried her through; Oscar-winner Mo’Nique in a role as big as it was acclaimed; and Sarah Paulson as the Critics’ Choice representative. But it was Regina King, a superb, underrated actress ubiquitous to TV for many years, who snuck through for her small but pivotal role in the aforementioned American Crime. King was one of many actors of color – including Michael K. Williams, Khandi Alexander and Niecy Nash – to score their first nomination after over a decade of acclaimed work on the small-screen. (That none had been nominated before is, to be blunt, ridiculous.) Her win signals an overdue and crucial shift.
Of the 12 acting winners last night – and the 16 in total – a full quarter were actors of color, a radical improvement from what we’ve been seeing in the film industry and even in TV. Reg E. Cathey won the previous week for his guest work on House of Cards; on the main stage last night, King was joined by Uzo Aduba, a repeat winner for Orange Is the New Black (Outstanding Supporting Actress) and, most notably, How to Get Away with Murder’s Viola Davis (Lead). Davis, in a cathartic, stirring victory speech, asserted an idea that encompassed the emotional wins of King, Aduba and finally herself: “The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity.” TV, like any form of media, has a long way to go, but the diversity on-display last night was irrefutable. Years of discussing “trends” and “breakthroughs” seemed to finally yield a tangible, meaningful outcome.
Better Late Than Never
A moment of equal emotion came in Jon Hamm’s expected, but no less breathtaking, victory for Outstanding Lead Actor. Mad Men’s quiet night was not entirely surprising; indeed, its diminished audience hurt it in the popular vote, as did its near-extinguished cultural dominance. But Hamm took it anyway, climbing on the stage (literally) with grateful, somber eagerness. His speech, for a notoriously goofy figure, was shockingly sincere. Hamm deserved the award long before – probably multiple times – but as a cumulative acknowledgment of one of TV’s most iconic creations, this particular Emmy meant something. His measured tone and silent pauses echoed far and wide.
The Americans did not win an Emmy, aside from a comically undeserved one. Neither did any of the phenomenal actors on Rectify or Bloodline or The Leftovers. Safe to say, this was not the best TV had to offer.
Game of Thrones cleaned up the drama races, as opposed to those superior aforementioned hour-longs, for what’s been uniformly dubbed its weakest season. It won writing for its uneven finale; stole directing from Steven Soderbergh of all people; and repeated in Supporting Actor (Peter Dinklage) over standouts including Ben Mendelsohn and Jonathan Banks. Thrones has been the runner-up premiere drama series in American culture over the last half-decade or so – it ran behind the end of Mad Men’s dominant run, then that one transcendent Homeland season, and finally those explosive final years of Breaking Bad. It hasn’t really had a chance to win, even though its combined commercial and critical success points to a show that, put simply, has (and should have) Emmy written all over it. Its best days are behind it – but, again, Breaking Bad didn’t win for its best seasons, either.
In other words, Game of Thrones fits the narrative, too. It gathers audiences and critics like no other drama series of the moment, and was considered an overwhelming favorite accordingly. (I wildly overestimated Mad Men goodwill.) Its scope and reach, beyond anything TV has done before, deserves that recognition. Hopefully, we can move on now.
Many changes in the very definition of TV were cemented last year. It’s becoming more diverse, more niche and more artistic – and consequently, many of even the best, most ambitious series are struggling to stand out. For worse but more emphatically for better, the Emmys reflected these definitive shifts. And if the comments of Viola Davis are any indication, that’s a notion worth celebrating – with caution.