9 Emmy nominations we really want to see

It’s frankly criminal that Rhea Seehorn hasn’t already won an Emmy for , let alone not even scored a nomination in all these years. AMC’s brilliant drama might’ve started out as the origin story for how Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) transformed into Saul Goodman. But the show simply wouldn’t work without Seehorn’s calculated, riveting performance as Kim Wexler. Her acting prowess further elevates BCS, especially as Kim begins (ahem) breaking bad too. In season six, Kim goes to the extreme in order to seek revenge on Howard (Patrick Fabian). With each cunning move, Seehorn adds more complexity to her character. And despite her shady plans, it’s easy to root for Kim’s success thanks to the actor’s inherent charisma. She may be up in the supporting category, but Seehorn’s a BCS lead in her own right. [Saloni Gajjar]

This is the last chance for to nab the Emmy it so rightfully deserves. (The series was nominated in the Comedy Series category last year, but, alas, no win.) There are a lot of reasons for the show to earn a statuette, but a big one that sticks with me is how a premise that seems tailor-made for a sketch—two thirtysomethings (creators Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle, who have an irresistible chemistry) playing grade-school versions of themselves while surrounded by actual grade schoolers—can be stretched over two glorious seasons and reach such emotional depths. Never afraid to double down on cringe comedy or creativity (I love season two’s recreation of that ), it’s the Hulu show I’ve most loved to date. [Tim Lowery]

Adam Scott has been a small-screen workplace icon since sharpening his comedic chops on Party Down and Parks And Recreation. But finally let the actor apply his more dramatic talents (think his performance on Big Little Lies) to the job. As the manager of Macrodata Refinement, Mark Scout becomes the reluctant leader of a rebellion against Lumon Industries. Scott’s nuanced approach to Severance’s conflicted protagonist, whose initial uncertainty grounds much of the first season, adds some essential complexity to the show’s more obvious symbolism. Plus, the actor’s natural relatability helps sell so much of the drama in one of the best new shows this year. [Alison Foreman]

Without a doubt, Apple TV+’s is one of 2022’s most visually stunning and powerfully written TV dramas. So it would be an egregious snub if the show doesn’t get nominated for an Emmy. Spanning across time and countries, Pachinko focuses on generations of an immigrant Korean family as they adapt to global, cultural, geographical, and economic changes. Their intricate personal narratives seamlessly tie together with the dark history of Japan-occupied Korea. Showrunner Soo Hugh (who brings Min Jin Lee’s bestselling novel of the same name to life) casts Pachinko with an ensemble that can carry the intense material without missing a beat, from relative newcomer Minha Kim to Oscar winner Youn Yuh-jung. Everything about Pachinko—music, direction, cinematography, costumes—hits the right note. [Saloni Gajjar]

HBO’s  hit the jackpot with its masterful ensemble, so it’s no wonder that a lot of the cast have been up for (and will certainly score more) Emmy nods. However, no one deserves acclaim for their work in season three more than Nicholas Braun, who skillfully morphs his Cousin Greg over nine episodes, striking the necessary comedic balance required to be a bumbling mess while adapting to the manipulators he calls family. As , the actor’s potent performance fully sells a convincingly chilling line like, “Souls are boring,” a stark contrast to the demure Greg we’ve known and rooted for so far. Braun would be up against co-stars Matthew MacFayden and Kieran Culkin in this category, but what better ode to Succession than letting the cast compete with each other, right? [Saloni Gajjar]

Peacock’s starts and stops with the superstar performance of executive producer Emmy Rossum. So it should go without saying that if she is not simply pelted with statuettes for her titular role, then something has gone horribly wrong. However, in addition to honoring Rossum with an Emmy all her own, Angelyne ought to be recognized as a uniquely successful limited series backed by an embarrassment of talents. We gave it an “A” at the time of release and explained our overarching love for the series there. But to sum it up: Angelyne delivers everything you need to know about its inspiration in a way that’s entertaining, respectful, and resonant. The jaw-dropping costuming, makeup, and production design are just bonuses. [Alison Foreman]

Pamela Adlon carried FX’s comedy for its entire run, closing it out with a pitch-perfect fifth and final season. Loosely based on her own life, she plays Sam Fox, an actor and single mother to three daughters. As she has done expertly since season two, Adlon directed each of the 10 episodes this time around, using vivid imagery to tell a larger-than-life story. Yet even in simple moments—ones where Sam is cooking a scrumptious meal, or Max (Mikey Madison) is cleaning the house, or they’re all hosting a patio dinner—Adlon’s direction is pretty remarkable, honing in on the cast’s harmonious chemistry. It would be a shame if her work goes unrecognized yet again. [Saloni Gajjar]

Last Week Tonight With John Oliver has won this category six years in a row. Maybe it’s time for some new blood? And better yet, how about some new blood that has yet to even get a nomination? And even better yet, how about some new blood that’s very, very funny? Now in their , Desus Nice and The Kid Mero have an uncanny comedic chemistry, an ability to riff on, say, dumb videos—and there are a lot of them—in incredibly quick and sharp ways, showing some real improv chops. (Mero losing it—and there is a lot of that, too—is incredibly infectious.) If bringing the funny is worth anything in this category (and it ought to be, right?), these guys should be shoo-ins. [Tim Lowery]

Horror auteur Mike Flanagan may be best known for adaptations like The Haunting Of Hill House, Gerald’s Game, and Doctor Sleep. But he’s at his best when he’s working on original material, and is some of top-shelf Flanagan. Netflix’s terrifying miniseries is thematically anchored in the uncertainty of faith, narratively centered around a young man (Zach Gilford) grappling with guilt and a zealous priest (Hamish Linklater) aiming to revitalize a town’s spiritual conviction. Flanagan deftly explores that slippery subject area with gorgeous cinematography and an unflinching approach to grim scenes. [Alison Foreman]