Yes, the Emmys Were a Literal Trash Fire

During Sept. 20’s surreal, socially distanced Primetime Emmy Awards, Jennifer Aniston tried to douse a flaming envelope on stage with a fire extinguisher. It did not quite go as planned.

It was, in a way, a fitting metaphor for what this Emmys telecast represented. For anyone hoping for the Emmys to honor a great show that was even remotely family friendly, those hopes went into the trash and up in flames.

Of all the scripted shows given Emmys last night, do you know how many were rated TV-MA, TV’s equivalent of an R-rating? All of them. HBO’s Watchmen nabbed two statues in the Limited Series category, and it’s littered with problematic content. Ozark, The Morning Show and Succession piled up Emmys in the dramatic series categories, and all have some serious content issues.

Even in recent years, Emmy has given a little of its love to a show or two that, at least, lands in TV-14 territory. But this year, Schitt’s Creek (which is rated TV-MA on its rebroadcasting home on Netflix) swept the category. And the show’s very title tells you pretty much all you need to know about how much it cares about family audiences.

Perhaps the most telling award, though, went to Zendaya, who won an Emmy for her work in HBO’s Euphoria. Zendaya, a former Disney princess who’s absolutely charming in almost everything I’ve seen her in. But she got her Emmy for her work in one of the darkest, most depressing, most problematic shows on television.

Apparently, quality, in Emmy’s eyes, is synonymous with sex. With blood. With profanity.

This is not to say that television is lacking family-friendly content: Because the television landscape is so broad these days, moms and dads can find shows suitable for their children. And maybe they can even find a few that the whole family can watch together. And a tiny fraction of those, perhaps, are quite good.

But for those looking for Emmy-winning shows—dramas that won’t let go or comedies and won’t stop making you laugh—and don’t want their senses pounded with skin and gore and the sort of language you read on the walls of a high-school bathroom, the television landscape is, indeed, truly a vast wasteland, at least according to the Emmys. It demands that those of us who care about such things either sacrifice their standards or settle.

Moviemakers seem to be able to make strong, award-winning products without the problematic flotsam. Three of last year’s nine nominees for Best Picture were rated PG or PG-13. Why can’t television creators do the same?

But perhaps that’s not quite the right question. Perhaps a better question would be: If someone created a fantastic show without all of those issues, would Emmy even take notice?