Wherefore Art Thou, Emmy?

by Eric Peterson

I hated myself for staying up and watching the Emmys until the end. After all, I had a busy day at work the next day, and could have used the sleep. And yet, it's not like this was a typical Oscars show that flirted with midnight (Eastern Time) before the awards were all handed out and the L.A. after-parties could begin.

And I was liking the show. No, the Sean Spicer cameo didn't sit well with me. First of all, I could have written that joke. Secondly - and perhaps more importantly - he doesn't deserve a warm welcome anywhere after facilitating the complete destruction in Americans' faith in our own government for six months. Finally, I could have written that joke. But I was liking the rest of it.

Aziz Ansari & Lena Waithe win an Emmy

I particularly enjoyed the diversity of the winners. I didn't enjoy the television industry's love letter to itself with regard to how inclusive they were. Because whatever. But the folks who actually walked up to receive trophies were a diverse bunch, and that was cool. Lena Waithe was the first black woman to win an Emmy for writing a comedy series. Aziz Ansari (an "Indian kid from South Carolina" was how Waithe described him) shared that award. Donald Glover was the first black person to win an Emmy for directing a comedy series. Sterling K. Brown was the first black actor in over two decades to win for Best Actor in a drama series. Reed Morano was the first woman in over two decades to win Best Director for a drama series. Riz Ahmed, a British actor of Pakistani descent, was the first South Asian actor to win an acting award at the Emmys.

Of course, some of my warm and fuzzy feelings about the rainbow of honorees were dimmed slightly when the producers of the Emmys cut off Brown's microphone before he finished his speech. Sure, this kind of stuff happens, but Nicole Kidman had just delivered what seemed like a lengthy list of thank-yous moments before, and the orchestra didn't make a peep. And moments later, they let Elisabeth Moss finish. Just sayin'.

But I liked the show, even though I haven't seen a lot of the shows and performances that were nominated. My own ignorance on this point was on my mind, because two days before, Variety published an article called, "Almost Nobody Watches Most Emmy-Nominated Shows," and that knowledge made me feel less alone.

And, it also seemed completely normal to me. There's just way too much television today for any one viewer to consume everything that might appeal to them unless they are lucky enough to get paid to watch television.

And, it also reminded me of the one reason why I like awards shows. Despite the fact that only 5% of television-watchers in America have ever watched Master of None (for which Waithe & Ansari won a writing Emmy), The Handmaid's Tale (for which Morano won her directing Emmy), or Atlanta (for which Glover won his directing Emmy) -- they might, now. If it weren't for Emmys or Oscars or Tonys or Grammys, or Pulitzers, the only television (or movies, or plays, or music, or books) that we'd ever see would be that which is explicitly designed to make the most money. Basically, every movie would be aliens blowing up the halls of Congress, every TV show would be cheaply made reality television, and every book would be Twilight. The fact that these awards shows exist make it somehow profitable for networks and studios and Broadway theaters and publishing houses to invest in quality. Because after a show or a movie or a play or a song or a book wins an award, there's a sizable audience out there who buys tickets or pushes the "download" button. And hopefully, quality art continues to be made by industries for whom the ultimate incentive is and always will be money.

So no, I'm not going to stay up to watch every award show until it's over. When I do watch, I will rail at the foolish choices of those voters and pontificate loudly upon why their choices were so, so wrong (still not over Brokeback Mountain losing - but that's another post for another day). But I'm ultimately glad that these shows exist.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I need to go watch that episode of Master of None. It just won an Emmy.

My Current Binge

by Eric Peterson

I had a great time discussing how streaming TV is changing the way we're watching television on this week's show. We also talked about the "binges" that we've really enjoyed in the past, including my personal favorites, Jessica Jones and Happy Valley.

There's another show that's captured my imagination recently; we didn't talk about it on the show because when we recorded that episode, I hadn't seen it yet -- but my current binge is another Netflix show: Ozark, starring Jason Bateman and Laura Linney.

Jason Bateman & Laura Linney in "Ozark"

One reason why the show is so good is its premise -- a financial advisor from Chicago who somehow got mixed up with a Mexican drug cartel makes a deal that involves moving his entire family from their urban life to the Missouri Ozarks. If it has any legitimate ancestor in television history, its closest relative is probably HBO's The Sopranos. With a dash of Green Acres.

Like The Sopranos, it flip-flops effortlessly between crime drama and family drama, focusing much of its energy on an anti-hero patriarch who does very bad things while at the same time trying to be a good dad (he doesn't expend nearly as much effort in the husband department, but there are reasons for that). But unlike James Gandolfini, you spend the first half of the season wondering why the hell Michael Bluth is even here. And eventually, yes -- we get around to that. He's perhaps not quite so miscast as he initially appears; in fact, he's pretty darn wonderful.

And while the very first episode had me worried that the amazing Laura Linney would be simply "the wife" in a story that belonged, in every way, to her character's husband, she very quickly came into her own, playing a character that is worth an actor of her considerable talent.

Julia Garner

While I'm gushing about the cast, I also want to say one tiny word about Julia Garner as local criminal genius Ruth Langmore. When she appeared in Ozark, I thought I'd seen her before and couldn't quite place her; a quick trip to her IMDB page reminded me that she was the granddaughter to Lily Tomlin's acerbic grandmother in Grandma (a terrific little indie if you love Tomlin or sharp-tongued grandmothers or both). She's just as good here, if not better.

Like any good binge, each episode ends with a moment that makes me hunger for more. Sometimes, it's a genuine cliffhanger, other times it's just an "oh-shit" moment that nonetheless incites a viewer's curiosity; I tune in to the next episode as soon as I can because I just have to know what happens now. The final shot of the very first episode simply shows the newly relocated family standing by a lake in Missouri, surrounded by trees. The camera moves back, to reveal a puzzle of forests and lakes that's so expansive, it seems never ending. Also, you can't help but notice that the cliff they're perched on is a lot higher than you originally thought it was. A bit obvious in its symbolism, maybe -- but it served the story and worked for me, and I was immediately hooked. The second episode ended with a simple declaration of fact, spoken by Laura Linney to her two children. It's only shocking because most television mothers would have lied at this particular moment, and she doesn't. And I couldn't click on Episode 3 fast enough.

But mostly, I think this show succeeds because of a singular artistic vision. As I've just noted, it's very aware of its episodic structure -- at the same time, it feels more like a 9-hour film in ten installments than a series of 10 separate episodes about the same people. And it does things and goes places that a 2-hour film just can't. Jason Bateman probably deserves most of the credit for this; he's an executive producer on the show and directed 4 out of the 10 episodes. In addition, the show's creators (Bill Dubuque & Mark Williams) along with two other writers (Paul Kolsby and Martin Zimmerman) do the lion's share of the writing. Other writers have popped in for an episode or two, but these four were involved in scripting all 10 episodes of the first season. And that kind of consistency matters when you're telling a story about characters you think you know, only to find out three episodes later that there's a side to them you had no idea about.

If you're watching Ozark, leave a comment, here or on our Facebook page, and tell us what you think. Or, tell us what you're binging these days and why. After I finish the last couple episodes of Ozark, work my way through HBO's Big Little Lies, then polish off Season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I might give it a look.