Emmys 2021: 10 Best, Worst, and Most WTF Moments

The night started off on a high note, literally, as host Cedric the Entertainer paid tribute to Biz Markie, who died in July at the age of 57, with a twist on the rapper’s beloved single “Just a Friend.” Celebrating humankind’s loving but codependent relationship with the small screen in these tempestuous times, he tweaked the lyrics, singing, “TV, you got what I need!” Soon enough, various celebrities in attendance joined in, from actual rappers LL Cool J and Dave Burd (of FXX’s Dave) to, uh…Rita Wilson? It was a fun, energetic start to the ceremony — too bad the rest of the show couldn’t keep up. JS

Even if you weren’t one of the many diehard fans — and Emmy voters — who’ve fallen for Ted Lasso, it was hard not to be charmed by Hannah Waddingham exclaiming, “Jesus Christ on a bike!” as a kickoff for the first acceptance speech of the night. Every single shoutout that the Supporting Actress in a Comedy winner gave was memorable, from her impassioned thank-yous to Jason Sudeikis and the Ted Lasso writer’s room (“I’m so grateful to even be in your gaggle”), to her declaration to co-star Juno Temple that if she could gift her one of the Emmy statue’s arms, she would. Waddingham, who’s had terrific song performances in each season of Lasso, ended her speech by advocating for more West End theater alums like herself to appear onscreen: “We won’t let you down,” she promised, bringing heaps of theater-kid energy to the stage. CS

For every nominee or presenter of color who appeared onscreen or spoke during last night’s ceremony, there was a white actor, writer, or producer who ultimately took home the trophy in nearly all categories. (One especially hollow moment came when the show brought out the cast of FX on Hulu’s Reservation Dogs to speak on the issue of Indigenous representation on television, only for them to present an award to yet another white showrunner.) Accepting the award for Outstanding Competition Program for RuPaul’s Drag Race, RuPaul became the most-awarded Black artist in Emmys history — he was also the night’s first person of color to come away with a win, and we were nearly two hours into the proceedings. Debbie Allen was next to the stage to accept the Governors Award, but only after Television Academy president Frank Scherma (seen here) monologued about the importance of diversity that his organization was failing to honor in real time. CS

If Ted Lasso was the comfort food that viewers were craving last season, then HBO’s Hacks was the biting, complex cocktail we chased it with. The former’s near-sweep was broken up by three wins for Lucia Aniello, Paul W. Downs, and Jen Statsky’s series about women in comedy — including writing, directing, and lead actress. The latter went to the great Jean Smart, who notched her fourth Emmy win for her turn as acerbic stand-up stalwart Deborah Vance. In a moving speech, Smart paid tribute to her late husband, who died in March; meanwhile, Aniello publicly announced that she and her co-creator Downs had gotten married the week before. “We wanted to make a show that honors anybody who struggled to tell their stories, especially women who never got to tell their story at all because the world wasn’t listening,” Aniello said. We’re happy to report the world is listening now. JS

Remember the fly that landed on Mike Pence’s head during the vice presidential debate last October? Yeah, we almost didn’t either, until it showed up in an Emmys segment almost a full year later. While the night’s host Cedric the Entertainer was great during his live opening monologue (“Pfizer is the Neiman Marcus of vaccines”), things quickly devolved into the weird and the boring once the pre-taped skits and backstage sketches started happening. Bits that could’ve been funny either went on for far too long (the cameo-laden “Never Won an Emmy” support group, featuring Scott Bakula and Dr. Phil, among others) or fizzled out without warning (Cedric confronting his three “TV wives” from past sitcoms). But by and large, the gags’ biggest crime was being forgettable. That, and mining their comedy from memes that aged like expired milk. CS

If anyone’s truly earned the title of multihyphenate, it’s Debbie Allen. During her 50-year career onstage and in television, the dancer, choreographer, actress, television director, singer-songwriter, and producer has done it all, breaking barriers along the way. Following a pretaped segment recapping Allen’s body of work, Jada Pinkett Smith, Ava DuVernay, Ellen Pompeo, and Michael Douglas came to the stage to pay a sweet tribute to her breakout role in the musical series Fame, tapping canes to the floor as her dance-teacher character Linda Grant used to. But it was the woman herself who reminded the audience of her star power when she accepted her Emmy, refusing to yield her time (“Turn that clock off!”) so that she could properly thank all her fellow artists that she’d worked with over the decades. Most poignantly, Allen made sure to deliver a message to the next generation of artists at home: “It is time for you to claim your power, claim your voice — Say. Your. Song. Tell your stories. It will make us a better place.” CS

You’d think that a seasoned industry pro like The Queen’s Gambit creator Scott Frank would know basic awards show etiquette, such as: When the music starts playing, you wrap up your speech. Going a little long is one thing; but he decided to go over — like, way over — in his acceptance for the limited series outstanding directing award. When the music first started playing, he paused in his rote, printer-paper speech to offer a snide, “Really? No,” followed by, “Seriously? Stop the music.” Frank went on for what felt like a small lifetime, reading a laundry list of thank-yous over two additional music cues. It’s true that we’ve all gotten pretty bad at reading social cues in these isolated times; but read the room, my dude. Or better yet, read the literal giant red sign at the back of the room (as captured for our edification by Underground Railroad nominee Colson Whitehead) that says “STOP.” JS

Michaela Coel’s widely acclaimed limited series I May Destroy You may not have garnered the Emmys sweep that many thought it deserved, but Coel’s win in the Writing for a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie category nonetheless felt like one of the most satisfying victories of the night. (Especially after the show was completely snubbed by the Golden Globes earlier this year, receiving exactly zero nominations.) In sharp contrast to the self-indulgent, slow-paced speech from The Queen’s Gambit creator Scott Frank that preceded it, Coel’s time at the mic was concise, deliberate, and a mark of succinct wisdom. “Write the tale that scares you, that makes you feel uncertain, that makes you feel uncomfortable,” she advised, reading from a single notecard. “I dare you. In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible — for visibility, these days, seems to equate to success — do not be afraid to disappear from it, from us, for a while, and see what comes to you in the silence.” CS

CBC and Pop TV’s Schitt’s Creek made history at last year’s Emmys when it won in every comedy category. Stylish as ever, the show’s Rose family (Eugene and Dan Levy, Catherine O’Hara, and Annie Murphy) came up to present two awards — and, with their easy stage patter, reminded us why they’re comedy royalty. The foursome squabbled over a blank teleprompter as Eugene admitted that he got in hot water with the Emmy writers, and O’Hara revived her singularly weird Moira Rose accent when the captions came back on. Given how strained so much of the other presenters’ banter was, the return of the Schitt’s clan served as a reminder that awards ceremonies can be funny if you don’t force it; all you have to do is fold it in. JS

Talk-show icon Conan O’Brien wrapped his nominated TBS series Conan after 11 seasons this past summer. And after he lost the variety talk series Emmy to HBO’s Last Week Tonight With John Oliver, he apparently decided he had nothing else to lose — because that’s when his campaign of chaos began. When Television Academy president Frank Scherma came out to give his (deadly dull) speech about the state of the biz, O’Brien went full heckler, saluting and clapping until he’d whipped up the whole audience into a confused standing ovation. Later, he raced onto the stage with Stephen Colbert and his Election Night 2020 team when they accepted the variety special trophy, shouting and hugging the actual man of the hour. “Wow, I haven’t met some of these people before,” Colbert joked at the start of his speech. This is the kind of unhinged, why-the-hell-not energy that awards shows have always needed — and Conan was just the guy to bring it. JS