Lifestyle
Ahead of the Emmys on Sunday, NPR’s TV critic presents The Deggy awards
Reservation Dogs is Eric Deggans’ pick for Best Comedy. Above, Bear (D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai), right, Elora Danan (Devery Jacobs), Cheese (Lane Factor) and Willie Jack (Paulina Alexis) in Season 3.
FX
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FX
As TV gets more complicated and Hollywood gets more desperate, it seems we ask this question every ceremony: Can the Emmys get any more confusing?
Fortunately, you are now reading a guide for cutting through all the nonsense: My very own TV awards with a long, distinguished history, The Deggys.

Yes, it’s only been nine months since the last Deggys, thanks to strikes last year which pushed last year’s Emmy telecast all the way to January of this year. But Sunday’s contest promises to put everything back on track – though I’m a little worried about seeing two comedic actors, the father-son duo of Eugene and Dan Levy, hosting the Emmys at a time when only experienced, pro-level MCs like Jimmy Kimmel seem to get it right.
Here’s my take on how to straighten out the many messes facing this year’s 76th Primetime Emmy Awards, starting with what should be a simple question: What exactly is a TV drama, anyway?
Best Drama Series: The Bear
Jeremy Allen White as Carmy in The Bear.
FX
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FX
What’s that, you say? FX’s The Bear is currently the Emmys’ most-nominated comedy, with 23 nods for its second season? Not in the land of the Deggys.
I say this with all due respect to my friends at FX, who have fought the is-it-really-a-comedy backlash heroically since the show first began scooping up awards. But it is obvious the core of The Bear’s storytelling centers on chef Carmy Berzatto’s dramatic, anguished struggle to transform his family’s greasy spoon restaurant into a fine dining establishment, while learning how much of his driven nature comes from his family’s unhinged passions, abuse from a toxic mentor and his brother’s suicide. This is a streak of dramatic excellence no number of cool, comedic cameos could possibly overcome. The Bear is not only a drama, it is the best drama on TV.

What will actually win? FX’s Shogun. This is also a no-brainer – with no shade intended for fellow nominees like Fallout, Slow Horses, 3 Body Problem and Mr. & Mrs. Smith. FX stepped up with a new take on James Clavell’s 1975 novel, outpacing the 1980 miniseries by de-centering the British white guy at the heart of the story, while spending millions to authentically recreate the look of feudal Japan. The Television Academy rewarded them with the most nominations of any series – 25 nods – and a record-breaking string of victories at the Creative Arts Emmy Awards last weekend. I’m also expecting loads of success at the mothership Emmys. But Shogun’s Deggys haul will come in another category.
Best Comedy Series: Reservation Dogs
Elora Danan (Devery Jacobs), left, and Bear (D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai) in Reservation Dogs.
Shane Brown/FX
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Shane Brown/FX
This is the last year the Emmys can honor this groundbreaking coming-of-age comedy about four indigenous teens in rural Oklahoma sorting through life, with the help of elders, spirit guides and more. Showrunner Sterlin Harjo, who co-created the show with Taika Waititi, ended the series last year, just as some TV fans were discovering their amazing mix of absurdist comedy and poignant drama. That their work showcases so much indigenous talent in the cast and crew is a wonderful plus but not entirely the point: Reservation Dogs is just funny, compelling and revolutionary, all the things a Deggy requires.

Honorable mention: To Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building, which somehow manages to stay witty and entertaining despite a ludicrous premise – occupants of a Manhattan apartment building constantly solving murders for a podcast in their tony abode – with loads of celebrity cameos, including ace turns by Meryl Streep and Paul Rudd.
What will actually win? The Bear. As the second-most nominated series, with 23 nods, it is a favorite of the Television Academy. FX wisely positioned it as a comedy, initially, to avoid the crushing past dominance in drama of HBO’s Succession – which itself was a dark comedy – and now to make room for Shogun’s triumph. In truth, there should be a better way of sorting through programs with equal footing in drama and comedy like The Bear and fellow best comedy nominee Hacks. Until there is, the Deggys must suffice.
Best Limited or Anthology Series: True Detective: Night Country
Jodie Foster and Kali Reis in True Detective: Night Country.
Michele K. Short/HBO
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Michele K. Short/HBO
Not only did True Detective: Night Country showrunner, Mexican director/writer/producer Issa Lopez rescue HBO’s anthology series by putting women – especially indigenous women – at the center of an evocative reinvention of HBO’s moribund cop show. But Lopez was classy and indomitable when the show’s original creator, Nic Pizzolatto, posted and elevated critical comments about the new version on social media. For giving Jodie Foster yet another amazing role and remaining above the fray even when some men lost their cool, I’m handing Lopez and True Detective a giant, shiny Deggy.
Another winner for Best Limited or Anthology Series: Shogun
Hiroyuki Sanada as Yoshii Toranaga in Shogun.
Katie Yu/FX
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Katie Yu/FX
And because this is my awards show, another Deggy in this category is going to Shogun. I know: Shogun is now a continuing series, because FX plans to make two more seasons of the show. But when it originally aired early this year, that plan wasn’t in place. So I’m using a technicality to hand out a Deggy in the category which often honors big budget, gigantic creative swings which prove that high quality TV created with authenticity and style can still make a mark. FX dominates as a platform still capable of generating the kind of landmark TV that HBO and Showtime once also regularly contributed, developing and greenlighting ambitious series because someone saw something unique and wanted to take a chance. Expect them to have a historic number of wins on Sunday.

What will actually win? Netflix’s Baby Reindeer will probably take this category, fueled by ace performances from creator-star Richard Gadd and co-star Jessica Gunning, along with ongoing fascination over the show’s roots in real-life stalking incidents Gadd says he experienced.
Best Supporting Actress in a Drama: Liza Colon-Zayas of The Bear
Liza Colón-Zayas as Tina in The Bear.
FX
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FX
At the Emmys, Colon-Zayas is nominated on the comedy side, in a category packed with stars like Carol Burnett (Palm Royale), previous winner Sheryl Lee Ralph (Abbott Elementary) and acting legend Meryl Streep (Only Murders in the Building). So she doesn’t have much of a shot this year. And I’ll admit I’m influenced by her standout performance in the third season of The Bear, which debuted in June. (Because the show rolls out new seasons after Emmy’s deadlines, Colon-Zayas was nominated for performances from the show’s second season, which aired last year). Since I have already declared The Bear a drama, I’m still giving Colon-Zayas props for stepping up in a way that every performer on this show somehow manages, regardless of how big their role is. I’m happy to give her a Deggy one year before she’s likely to earn an Emmy on her own.
Who will actually win? Elizabeth Debicki, whose unerring portrayal of Princess Diana remains the most remarkable element of an underwhelming final season for The Crown.
Best Talk Series: Hot Ones
YouTube
One of the only Emmy snubs I really cared about was the lack of a nomination for Hot Ones, a show on YouTube with a concept that feels like it was dreamed up during a pub crawl of chicken wing joints. But host Sean Evans elevates the simple concept of asking stars probing questions while they eat wings so hot their brains are scrambled. Evans delights in finding little-known nuggets to ask his guests about – he knew the crazy odd jobs John Oliver had before he got famous, for instance – and offers soothing words as they both eat chicken slathered in increasingly hot sauces. Because the industry needs new, entertaining formats for talk shows to shore up a declining late night universe, hopefully this Deggy will inspire more such innovation.
What will actually win? My money’s on The Daily Show, which not only managed to maintain its quality through a series of guest hosts, but has settled into a commanding, entertaining groove with the return of host Jon Stewart once a week. Stewart is backed by the correspondents, who seem to find new depths every time they each take the host’s chair.

Lifestyle
‘Alice and Steve’ might be a mess — but it’s also too fun to stop watching
In Alice and Steve, Jemaine Clement and Nicola Walker play long-time friends who turn on each other after he gets involved with her 26-year-old daughter.
Lara Cornell/Disney+
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Lara Cornell/Disney+
I grew up watching episodic shows on network TV, nearly all of them formulaic but some indelibly great. Then, like everyone else, I moved into the days of what my colleague David Bianculli dubbed Platinum TV, where series like The Sopranos and The Wire and Fleabag aspired to something higher. What both these eras had in common was that their shows were carefully crafted — they had an internal logic, and a tone, that held them together.
In recent years, though, there’s been a proliferation of shows that, possibly obeying some algorithm, care less for coherence than sensation. They lurch among tones, from cuteness to sentimentality to meanness, stirring in random plot twists along the way. Bouncing all over the emotional map, these shows depend on compelling actors and a few memorable scenes to make us overlook their loose construction.
A great example is Alice and Steve, an entertaining but sometimes exasperating six-part British comedy on Hulu about two 50-something best friends who turn on each other after he gets involved with her 26-year-old daughter.


While the premise is juicy, it’s also a tad yucky, and I mainly tuned in because its title characters are played by performers Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords and Nicola Walker, whom I’ve raved up on this show more than once.
The series starts poorly with Steve and Alice going on a cutesy bender after a friend’s funeral. Now, I always hate drunk scenes, which are an invitation to overact. As Clement and Walker bray their lines, we learn that Steve’s a divorced celebrity hair stylist who can’t find a girlfriend while Alice is a clothes designer with a doting younger husband, nicely played by Joel Fry, a sweetie-pie of a teenage son — that’s Tyrese Eaton-Dyce — and, of course, that 26-year-old daughter, Izzy, who has inherited her mother’s willfulness. Played by Yali Topol Margalith, Izzy kickstarts the plot by flirting with Steve. Predictably, he succumbs.

Almost immediately, they think they’re in love. While the weak-willed Steve wants to hide their romance — he knows it’s inappropriate — Izzy just blurts out the facts to her mom. Alice flips. And from hereon out in this series where the women are as alpha as the men are hangdog, Alice drives the action. Betrayed and violently angry, she’ll do whatever it takes to break them up — no matter who gets hurt. Her antics unleash Steve’s own malice. We’re in Beef territory.
At its core, Alice and Steve hinges on the way that platonic friendships are often richer and more powerful than romantic ones. It’s a fascinating subject, which may be why I found the script by Sophie Goodhart so frustrating. I wanted her to dig deeper. While the show’s got some very funny bits — Alice’s sharp-tongued mother is a blast — it’s often annoyingly lax.

If Steve really does the hair of Charli XCX, how come he’s a clueless older guy whose pop culture references are Willie Nelson and Woody Allen? If Izzy truly adores her mother as she claims, why does she keep rubbing her relationship with Steve in her mom’s face? Halfway through, one character nukes the other’s career, but this life-shattering event has no real weight: It’s barely even mentioned for the rest of the series.
That said, Alice and Steve is worth seeing for scenes like the one in which Steve spinelessly sells Izzy out or the lacerating discussion between Alice and her husband when he fully grasps that he adores a woman who views him as a reliable but dull concierge, not a man she likes hanging with. Most touching of all may be the lovely sequence when Alice, wise for once, smooths a romantic crisis between her son and his would-be girlfriend, a pair who are the show’s emblem of hope. For once, we understand why people love her.

While most viewers will find Steve more likable than Alice — the show takes pains not to make him appear predatory or creepy — the role doesn’t give Clement a whole lot to do except play variations on shambolic dread and discomfort. The show gets its galvanizing zing from Walker, a beloved star in England with amazing, luminous eyes. Her Alice is the kind of complicated, volcanic heroine that you don’t see in movies and rarely see on TV, one who shows her apocalyptic rage freely and in many different forms.
At least once in every episode, something would lead me to say, “Man, is this show a mess.” But that wasn’t a deal breaker. I kept watching. After all, life is messy, too.

Lifestyle
How to enter your Sporty Spice era : It’s Been a Minute
How to enter your Sporty Spice era.
Getty Images/quantic69/Olga Kurbatova/Anastasiia Zvonary/Photo Illustration by NPR
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Getty Images/quantic69/Olga Kurbatova/Anastasiia Zvonary/Photo Illustration by NPR
Reality dating and professional sports are not as different as you’d think.
Brittany is in her Sporty Spice era – she watched the NBA playoffs, she’s following World Cup games, and she’s watching the New York Liberty play their WNBA season. These games are daily – and so is the reality dating show Love Island. And she noticed that the two formats are not very different at all. Defector.com staff writer and co-owner Kelsey McKinney came to the same conclusion – so the two of them discuss why these games of athleticism and love can bring us together… and why they get valued differently in our culture.
For more episodes on sports and reality TV, check out:
Get rich or die trying: how sports betting is changing our love of the game
Is this the end of reality TV?
The ugly truth of America’s expensive homes
Support Public Media. Join NPR Plus.
Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluse
This episode was produced by Liam McBain. It was edited by Neena Pathak. Our Supervising Producer is Cher Vincent. Our Executive Producer is Barton Girdwood. Our VP of Programming is Yolanda Sangweni.
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