The Emmy nominations dropped on Tuesday, and it was a solid victory lap for Oregon creatives. Filmmaker Crofton Diack, whom we caught up with last summer in this very magazine, got a nod for her work on Nat Geo’s Life Below Zero. Wieden & Kennedy’s Colin Kaepernick-starring Nike ad was nominated for Outstanding Commercial. Documentary Now!, which shot several episodes in and around Portland this season, got a run of four nominations.
There was plenty of other good news for shows that are, we assume, already binges for vast swaths of Portland: dual writing nods for Russian Doll. A head-spinning 11 nominations for Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s so-good-you-overlooked-the-sex-and-recommended-it-to-your-mom Fleabag. A nod for BoJack’s eviscerating “Free Churro” episode, love for Schitt’s Creek and Killing Eve, and an opportunity for funniest-person-on-TV Julia Louis-Dreyfus to land her seventh Emmy for Veep.
But this is the internet, and it’s time now to steer this ship into the “this is bad, actually” harbor. Despite a healthy dose of Oregon love, the Television Academy overlooked Shrill and American Vandal, last season’s highest-profile (and best) Oregon-based projects. Shrill, at least, will get another shot at the gold next year, with its second season already in production. American Vandal, on the other hand, is lost to the world after Netflix made the choice to kill it on the vine last fall.
For me, though, the Emmys’ most egregious offense hasn’t hit yet. It will happen on Sunday, September 22 at the Microsoft Theater in Los Angeles, California.
Now, awards don’t matter to me in the way that health insurance doesn’t matter to me; I don’t feel like I need any, but I would like to make sure that Amy Adams has some.
The 2019 Emmys were supposed to be her moment. HBO’s Sharp Objects, helmed by newly-controversial auteur Jean-Marc Vallée (last seen in these parts working on Wild), features Adams at her steely, wounded best. Across eight episodes, she gives gut-wrenching life to journalist Camille Preaker, with an acid tongue and drinking problem that would border on cartoonish in less-capable hands.
Adams has already received well-deserved SAG and Golden Globe nods for Sharp Objects. She lost both to Patricia Arquette for her work in Escape at Dannemora (which was literally directed by Ben Stiller—no, stop, of course I haven’t seen it). Both women are up, once again, for Best Leading Actress in a Limited Series. I fear we all know what’s going to happen.
This is how it works when you’re Amy Adams. You solve intergalactic crises with your linguistic chops. You bring spiky warmth to the Blue Collar Boston Woman™. You duet with Miss Piggy in a song that is sort of like that one Carly Rae Jepsen song. And what do you get in return? Five unfulfilled Oscar nods for Best Supporting Actress, a Golden Globe for Big Eyes (!!!!!?????), and the deranged support of gay journalists the internet over.
A sincere congratulations to Crofton Diack, Wieden & Kennedy, Documentary Now!, and all the other PNW creatives repping our rich, deep talent pool on television’s biggest night. Enjoy your well-deserved ticket to the Emmys—just be sure to give Amy a hug if you bump into her in the bathroom.