Where to stream the 2021 Emmy nominees

It’s never been easier to get caught up with the —provided your pockets are deep enough for multiple subscriptions and/or you have a handful of free trials you’ve yet to cash in. Not only do streaming originals continue to be a dominant presence among the Television Academy’s picks for the year’s top programs, but plenty of the broadcast and cable nominees will wind up on , , , or a corporate-sibling platform prior to the September 19 awards telecast. are waiting for you at their new home on Roku!So while it’s obvious where Emily In Paris, Ted Lasso, and WandaVision can be found on your smart TV, mobile device, set-top box, or laptop, not every title nominated in ’ scripted series categories has been calling out to you from a homepage for several months. Read on and learn where to stream all the shows nominated for Outstanding Drama Series, Outstanding Comedy Series, and Outstanding Limited Or Drama Series this year.Note to desktop users: If you’d like to read this in a scrolling format, simply narrow your browser window.

Even faster-than-sound superheroes can fall a little behind the times. Take Homelander (Antony Starr), the sadistic and disturbed Superman who leads America’s team of ostensibly heroic do-gooders, The Seven: Halfway through season two of , Amazon’s pitch-black deconstruction of superhero tropes (based on Garth Ennis’ equally dark comic series), the narcissistic caped crimefighter realizes social media is turning against him. Used to being universally adored, he can’t understand why his $100 million PR campaign is being undermined by memes and viral tweets. “Emotion sells. Anger sells,” the person responsible for his crumbling image explains, as though reading the business strategy of Fox News and its many-headed hydra of 21st-century imitators. “You have fans. I have soldiers.” As wannabe authoritarians have always known, why strive for goodness, when hate is so much more effective?The best thing about the second season of The Boys is how smartly it adds complexity and depth to its characters and stories. The show began as a fun but fairly weightless exercise in gory, meta nihilism: tough guy Billy Butcher (Karl Urban) and his nebbish of a new recruit, Hughie (Jack Quaid), seeking to get revenge for the deaths of their loved ones at the hands of the publicly noble but privately craven superheroes of The Seven, a team paid for and run by the nefarious Vaught corporation. The show derived a lot of wit and energy from its gonzo premise, but didn’t do much beyond gruesome action and playing with the subversion of tropes that had already been subverted since Alan Moore’s Watchmen came out in the ’80s. (As of its premiere, “The Boys is all about tearing down false idols, but it doesn’t build up anything in their place.”) []

My dears, what do you think? In the lavishly picturesque world of Regency-era England here in Bridgerton, the new social season is about to begin in earnest. As I, Lady Whistledown, will faithfully be depicting in my popular scandal sheet, all of London’s eligible young lovelies are about to be presented to the court to hopefully extract the favor of the queen before being set forth to swim among a sea of hopeful suitors. Of course, the diamond of this year’s season is the porcelain-skinned and auburn-haired Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), the first of her family’s four daughters to come forward and whose romantic exploits will undoubtedly take up much of my reports this season. (Also, I hear the queen’s husband is, shall we say, under considerable strain as of late, so perturbed is he after the loss of the colonies several seasons ago.) []

The first season of The Crown debuted with a clear sense of purpose: To introduce us to the world of the Windsors and to chart the rise of Queen Elizabeth and the decline of Winston Churchill. Since then, however, the show has struggled to recapture that same level of focus. Season two stumbled by centering on marriage. And while season three found greater success with the theme of “transitions,” it still felt a bit fractured and aimless. To some degree, The Crown is limited by how much interesting history happened to take place during the period it’s covering each season. And the 1960s and ’70s just didn’t provide the most intriguing fodder for the series to build from.Thankfully, season four doesn’t need to worry about that problem. It’s bursting with historical events and—perhaps more importantly—famous historical faces. “Gold Stick” doesn’t waste any time introducing us to two of the most well-known women in modern British history: Diana Spencer (Emma Corrin) and Margaret Thatcher (Gillian Anderson). The fact that they’re both prominently featured on the indicates The Crown knows we’re here to see them as much as we are to follow the ongoing saga of the Windsor family. And Maggie and Lady Di both get introductions that suggest The Crown might be aiming for a new level of camp this season—whether intentionally or not. []

 debuted to critical acclaim in 2017, winning eight Emmy Awards, including Outstanding Drama Series. Bruce Miller’s adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel was similarly met with praise from critics () at the start of its second season, but subsequent premieres have elicited more ambivalence than anticipation. Season two started off strong before getting bogged down by misery and repetition, as the series became increasingly desperate to keep June (Elisabeth Moss), then known as Offred, in Gilead’s Christofascist clutches. The third season, which premiered in 2019, maintained the torture porn, , and strained logic of its predecessor, .Season four of The Handmaid’s Tale doesn’t make up for all of these missteps (it actually perpetuates some), but it does confront them, as June comes face to face with her past. In some ways, the fourth season acts as a retrospective, a kind of “June Osborn, This Is Your Life” reel, only much more gutting—June sees her doubles everywhere, women who represent different stages and traumas from her own life. []

When asked to describe HBO’s Lovecraft Country during their Comic-Con@Home panel, cast members Jurnee Smollett and Courtney B. Vance described the highly anticipated drama as a story about family, and how the atrocities and sentiments of Jim Crow America are still present today. Adapted from Matt Ruff’s highly regarded 2016 horror novel, the 10-episode series centers on Atticus Freeman (Jonathan Majors) who teams up with his friend Leticia (Smollett) and his uncle George (Vance) to search for his missing father, Montrose (Michael Kenneth Williams). The group enters a region teeming with both cultural horrors and monsters seemingly ripped from an H.P. Lovecraft tale. Executive producers Misha Green (who developed the series) and Jordan Peele cemented their status as paragons of creative Black expression with Underground and Get Out, respectively. A sci-fi wonder in the hands of such an ideal team-up should prove to be a resonant event. []

Part of the thrill of The Mandalorian—at least for [the] premiere episode—was that it appeared that audiences were going to be treated to a corner of the universe where the Force was still the stuff of hokey religions and there was nary a mention of the dysfunctional Skywalker clan. Wise guys, crooks, bounty hunters, and rogues were going to be the order of the day, and the series would be more inspired by Tales Of Mos Eisley than Heir To The Empire. All of that went out the blast door with the introduction of The Child, a force sensitive “Baby Yoda” who became the focus of the show and a pop culture sensation.The first two seasons of Mandalorian have found the team seeking inspiration from countless classic films (Lone Wolf & Cub, Yojimbo, The Wild Bunch), so it was only natural that the Star Wars Film School would eventually pay homage to one of the most culturally impactful pictures of all time: Star Wars. []

When it debuted in 2018, Pose set a history-making record by employing the largest cast of trans actors television had ever seen. Janet Mock became hired to write on a television series and went on to in the first season. Billy Porter became the the first openly gay Black performer to be nominated for and win in the Emmy leading actor category. But Pose shouldn’t just be remembered for its firsts. It should be remembered for its over-the-top and bright ballroom scenes. It should be remembered for its outstanding performances. And it should be remembered for all the bold and joyful ways it celebrates the lives of its queers and trans characters of color, many of whom are HIV-positive. []

Looking back, season five managed to cover an impressive amount of storytelling ground. It introduced a trio of new babies, wove Uncle Nicky firmly into the family fold, and delivered a bunch of reckonings around Randall’s identity. At the very least, season five will forever be a time capsule of this incredibly strange year and a half—with one truly great to show for it. []

Kenya Barris’ Black-ish survived —which saw the end of Black-ish spin-off Mixed-ish, among others—but only by a nose. , the series has been renewed for an eighth season, but that’ll be it for the award-winning show and Black-ish will end for good after that eighth season. Barris has , noting that it’s “rare” these days for the team behind a show to get the chance to decide when and how to end it, so he’s grateful to ABC for this opportunity. []

A series of flashbacks run throughout season three of Cobra Kai. Only, they don’t belong to Johnny Lawrence (William Zabka), adrift after his dojo was stolen from him and his best student Miguel (Xolo Maridueña) trapped in a coma following the brawl that ended season two. And they also don’t belong to Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio), struggling to keep his family and business together in the wake of his daughter’s suspension and the negative fallout from being the public face of a dojo whose students were deemed responsible for a school-wide riot. No, these flashbacks follow John Kreese (Martin Kove), Johnny’s former sensei and the show’s cigar-chomping villain, following him as an idealistic young man going to Vietnam in 1968, presumably so the audience can get a deep insight into his character and learn why he turned out so cruel and monomaniacal. But is there really anything to learn that would make us change our minds about such a sneering sociopath? As Daniel’s daughter Sam (Mary Mouser) says early on, voicing the show’s overarching theme: “Everybody’s got a sob story. Doesn’t give you the right to be a bully.”But that’s the Cobra Kai way: a long walk to confirm what you already knew. Luckily, there’s a lot of humor and good-natured theatrics accompanying the story this time around. After season two got and lost much of the series’ initial acidic insight, it looked as though Cobra Kai might have fallen victim to the very macho posturing it used to lampoon. And while that tension is very much still present this year—episodes can turn from comic to portentously cartoonish faster than a crane kick—the creative team seems to have remembered that what makes all the teenage chop-socky-infused drama palatable is a healthy sense of sardonic perspective on the proceedings. Taking all the soapy emoting at face value quickly gets tiresome, as last season demonstrated; now, the show is once more aware that something like a news announcer grimly reporting on the aftereffects of a high school’s “all-out karate riot” is pretty ridiculous. []

Lily Collins stars as Emily, a Chicago marketing wunderkind who suddenly gets sent to Paris when her company buys a smaller French firm. Her boss (a woefully underused Kate Walsh) was supposed to go, but she got pregnant, and in the Emily In Paris world, women can’t fly even in the first trimester. Emily arrives at the Parisian marketing firm to offer a fresh, American perspective on apparently alien things like social media, to the consternation of her constantly sneering, smoking new colleagues. Despite her humble Midwestern roots and mere handful of trunks, Emily looks like she just walked out of Teen Vogue, never repeating an outfit, Carrie Bradshaw-style (trust us when we say that no one in all of Chicago dresses like she does). A bland Windy City boyfriend shows up so briefly we wonder why he’s there at all. []

Fraught and funny, Hacks is the kind of show that understands how rich women’s lives are at any age. Deborah Vance is the role of a lifetime, and yet Jean Smart makes this feel like it’s just the beginning. It can’t be easy to square off against such a consummate pro, but Hannah Einbinder holds her own. Hacks tests Deborah and Ava’s ability to “hack it”—to endure, to roll with the punches—in a culture where few people, let alone women, thrive. But instead of merely being an exploration of survival, the show helps them find a way to rise above. []

The Flight Attendant lands on HBO Max this week with a look and feel that fairly screams Hitchcock homage—initially, at least. Chris Bohjalian’s novel of the same name might be the source material for Steve Yockey’s adaptation, but it’s far from the only inspiration. Strangers meet on a train, er, plane, a beautiful blond slowly loses her grip on reality, and there’s an unreliable narrator at the center of a possible international conspiracy. But as this lively pastiche unfolds, it recalls a different type of thriller altogether, the kind of blue sky series that made USA Network the (ultimately temporary) home of the breezy watch. []

Sitcom impresario Chuck Lorre continues to draw Oscar-winning talent for his recent Netflix experiments; hot off the cancellation of Kathy Bates’ Disjointed, Lorre has roped in Michael Douglas and Alan Arkin for his single-camera shot at the “old guys saying funny, cranky stuff to each other” crown. Douglas plays a veteran acting coach who spends most of his time sleeping with young women, while Arkin is his agent and buddy, dealing with the recent death of his wife. Lorre looks to be going for somewhat realer emotions here than he usually taps into, while cast additions like Nancy Travis, Sarah Baker, and Lisa Edelstein do their best to help the Method feel like more than just “, but for dudes.” []

Hulu’s sublime  manages to turn the most awkward kind of humor into riveting and relatable comedy. Created by , Anna Konkle, and Sam Zvibleman, the half-hour series stars Erskine and Konkle, who play their 13-year-old middle school selves. Their performance is unnervingly accurate, adding to the heightened cringe factor of the show. In its second season, Pen15 waded into the emotional trenches of Maya and Anna’s coming-of-age, including pursuing crushes, discovering the pros and cons of working on the school play, and briefly believing they’re both witches in episode three, “Vendy Wiccany.” []

Before it premiered, Ted Lasso was a punchline of Peak TV: Had the race for content gone so far that Apple would green-light an adaptation of an (entertaining) Jason Sudeikis NBC Sports commercial? But when it premiered in August, well into the COVID-19 pandemic, Ted Lasso was rightly hailed as the perfect show for a difficult moment. Transformed into a deep ensemble with the help of Scrubs creator Bill Lawrence, the series combined the wit and wordplay of Sudeikis’ ad with the thrill and camaraderie of a sports drama, and redefined Coach Lasso as a beacon of positivity and belief. And yet, it’s important to recognize that Ted Lasso’s hype is not solely the result of “pandemic goggles.” It stands as one of the year’s finest comedies regardless, as each character is allowed to grow and show vulnerability without ever losing their ability to be funny. With a concept that could be played for satire, Ted Lasso took the riskier path of grounding itself in the belief that good people doing good things can drive a comedy series. And while that choice undoubtedly struck a nerve, Ted Lasso will resonate just as well when we catch up with AFC Richmond again under (hopefully) better circumstances. []

The limited series, which has offered some of the buzziest shows in recent years, reached new heights with Barry Jenkins’ adaptation of The Underground Railroad. Based on Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer-winning novel, this 10-part historical fantasy drama is equal parts gripping and meditative; an operatic tale () limned by truth and sunlight. The radiant Thuso Mbedu leads the show as Cora, whose arduous trek from the antebellum South to the only slightly less foreboding North serves as the backbone to the story. The eponymous novel, along with centuries of U.S. history, provides the foundation for this engrossing story. But Jenkins’ lens remains inquisitive, seeking out the heroes, villains, and witnesses, the camera resting on their open or shuttered expressions in his signature style. By eliminating the distance between the viewer and the characters, The Underground Railroad effectively bridges the gap between the past and the present, leaving no room for denial or myth-building. []

Mare Of Easttown kicks off with a murder mystery, but that question mark quickly fades, overshadowed by Kate Winslet’s monumental performance. Sure, the series nails the gloomy Pennsylvania town, DelCo accents, and the regional snacks. But Winslet commands all the attention as Mare Sheehan, a detective, town hero, and grieving mother. She’s surrounded by a solid supporting cast: Evan Peters as Mare’s earnest young partner, Guy Pearce (Winslet’s Mildred Pierce co-star) as a flirtatious, enigmatic writer, and best of all, Jean Smart as Mare’s no-nonsense ma. The detective uncovers one unsavory truth after another as she inches closer to solving the crime, but the real revelations involve Mare herself, as she finally comes to terms with the thorny path her life has taken. Watching an actor as well-known as Winslet disappear into her character is nothing less than astonishing, and will likely pay off during awards season. []

The Queen’s Gambit is a biographical portrait so detailed, it’s hard to believe that it wasn’t about an actual person. But Anya Taylor-Joy’s portrayal of chess champion Beth Harmon is both completely fictional (based on Walter Tevis’ novel of the same name) and entirely believable. Beth is a taciturn young orphan with addiction issues who also happens to be a chess wunderkind, and these two elements of her life vie for control throughout the series, as writer/director Scott Frank and editor Michelle Tesoro skillfully make the chess matches riveting even for viewers who wouldn’t know a King’s Gambit from a Sicilian Defense. Beth’s brave and often lonesome climb is gripping to witness, aided by meticulously detailed mid-century décor, from her modest Kentucky home to period-perfect opulent hotel rooms in Las Vegas, Mexico City, and Russia. Her ensembles also get more glamorous the higher she rises in the chess ranks, often in stunning black-and-white outfits that echo the game that rules her life. Though surrounded by compelling supporting performances from Marielle Heller, Moses Ingram, and Thomas Brodie-Sangster, Taylor-Joy commands every single scene as Beth, so that we can’t help but cheer her on as she learns to control her demons as well as the chess board. []

Where some series add, Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You hosts a singular conversation on sexual violence and the path to healing. The HBO series is a deeply personal work for the multi-hyphenate, which lends it a great deal of power, but Coel isn’t interested in monologuing. In its important and nuanced discussion on victimhood (imperfect and otherwise), trauma, and recovery, I May Destroy You makes room for all manner of survivors, including male victims who are too often stigmatized. Even more impressively, the series gives interiority and vibrancy to all of its characters, refusing to define them solely by what happened to them. And Coel establishes herself as one of the most consummate storytellers out there, building the series from the inside out—she gives a bravura performances as Arabella, moving effortlessly from impishnness to devastation to rage, taking from a scene just as much as she brings to it. I May Destroy You even provides its own compelling look at Black British life, from navigating adolescence in predominantly white schools to the house parties that can break out into colonizer discourse. Despite the tacit promise of its title, I May Destroy You is one of the most life-affirming series of the year. []