Why Award Shows Still Have Purpose: The Emmys & Personal Joy

Televised award show ratings have declined consistently and dramatically for several years. Viewership declines. Best case scenario: the gags fall flat and take up time that ticks away mercilessly to those giving speeches. Worst case scenario: Someone commits assault. The audience doesn’t watch the same films or television shows. Niche content expands. Celebrity exceptionalism and privilege is scrutinized. So why, with all these problems, do we still need award shows? 

I won’t pretend like all award shows have the same function. For example, Broadway has a high barrier to entry - and that’s just for the audience. For those unable to fly to New York and pay hundreds for tickets, they can see at least one song from every major musical. At any award show, you can learn more about who works on your favorite project - directors, designers, writers, cinematographers, sound mixers, etc. In fact, you can learn what a cinematographer even is. I grew up watching award shows long before I was old enough to watch the material being celebrated. Living in a small town, I otherwise would never be exposed to terms like manager, agent, sound mixer, or cinematographer. Because award shows are often broadcast on major networks, audience exposure and education serves as an indirect benefit. 

Initially, I thought my love of award shows came from the fanfare. The ritual of a once a year celebration makes anything feel special. As I watched this year’s Emmys, I was reminded of what actually draws me back to award shows every year - the personal joy of the most unsuspecting and humble of winners. 

Sheryl Lee Ralph’s speech is the single biggest argument for why award shows still have a purpose. We could easily pivot to a showcase format (if audience exposure is our goal) or a non-televised party (if internal industry recognition is our goal- and there are plenty of those). However, either option would remove the one thing that social media cannot replace: a real-time, formal platform to collectively watch someone receive recognition for a lifelong dream. Sure, they could live stream on social media the moment they found out they were recognized by their peers. They could post a video with a thank you speech for their program’s fans. None of these things would replace the moment someone is surrounded by their closest plus one and work colleagues (no sarcasm intended) as they reach a major career and personal milestone. 

I realize award shows recognize one industry and are slowly narrowing further on what they recognize. We see less technical award recognition in the live show and more speeches are pushed to the pre-show schedule. That is only an argument for expanding, not limiting, award shows. While many of us cannot relate to the lifepath of one who wins an Emmy, we can relate to personal joy. We can relate to the unbridled feeling of accomplishing what we once thought impossible. Her joy is the other half of representation. It is not enough to see all types of people represented in the characters they play, but to see the real people whose struggles are equally, and possibly more importantly, worth seeing. 

Sheryl Lee Ralph’s vulnerable, personal joy is worth rooting (and watching) for.