In the penultimate episode of The Crown season four, Diana (Emma Corrin) and Charles (Josh O’Connor) perch in silent discomfort inside a palace drawing room, each contemplating the inevitable death of their marriage. You imagine they’re finally going to rip each other to shreds and euthanize this sham of a union, but they’re soon led into an even stuffier parlor to be dressed down by the queen and Prince Philip. Queen Elizabeth (Olivia Colman), solemn and precise, isn’t interested in her son’s or daughter-in-law’s health — rather, she’s concerned about the integrity of the monarchy. If a royal marriage fails, according to her, so does the public’s faith in their ancient institution. Diana devotedly absorbs the scolding, even when Elizabeth shames her for casual dalliances with low-born men while her own son carries on a brazen and long-term love affair. The young woman promises to do better, love Charles better. She submits, lying to herself just for a bit of meager affection or tolerance from a trusted elder.
The Crown posits that a vulnerable 19-year-old like Diana chose this family, seemingly the most rock-solid coterie in all of Britain, after growing up in a broken and neglectful home. She wanted roots, so she grafted herself to the most dendritic and deeply entrenched family tree in all of Western civilization. The series emphasizes that, regal or not, an individual doesn’t typically marry just a singular person but an entire ecosystem of personalities, emotions and egos. This is something Meghan Markle, the real-life daughter-in-law of Princess Diana, has sadly learned all too well over the past few years.
The concept of “chosen family” — the people you form close bonds with even though there’s no biological tie — means lots of different things to lots of different people, and this broad theme is at the pith of this year’s Emmys race. While family of choice remains concomitant with the needs and cultures of some queer people ostracized from their own, it also applies broadly across TV storytelling. Many of the 2021 drama series contenders project a heartening viewpoint of chosen family, reminding us that found connections can help people rebuild their lives and identities anew after trauma. Conversely, others showcase that the “chosen family” of who we marry can also end up entrapping folks while hopes for a future die on the vine.
Feeling emotionally disoriented is more an opportunity than a detriment for characters on Disney+’s space Western The Mandalorian, NBC’s family melodrama This Is Us and HBO’s steampunk fantasy The Nevers. While these dramas are steeped in the suffering caused by intergenerational abandonment and orphandom, their writers never treat their protagonists like lost little lambs. Instead, the leads eventually find some measure of comfort or power in accepting their fates and inviting new people into their lives.
For The Mandalorian‘s eponymous bounty hunter (Pedro Pascal), a lone wolf covered head-to-toe in intergalactic armor at all times, this means begrudgingly adopting a telekinetic toddler he initially was going to sell to a baddie.
For the damaged folks orbiting the ever-lovable (and sometimes crazy-making) Pearson clan of This Is Us, this means letting go of past pains to embrace new kith over old kin.
The young women of The Nevers may live a sort of sci-fi Dickensian existence as superpowered waifs residing on the margins of Victorian London society, but they’ve made a home together at an orphanage/boardinghouse for people who share their gifts.
Cultivating support systems with others who have both loved and suffered like you can be a vital lifeline for wounded people, even if the rewards of newly found human connection don’t always save the day. Horrifying loss and abuse connect the ensembles on Amazon’s revisionist superhero dramedy The Boys, Hulu’s dystopian thriller The Handmaid’s Tale and FX’s life-affirming queer celebration Pose.
On the first two seasons of The Boys, a group of revenge-seeking misfits work together in secret to take down the corporate and Disneyfied caped crusaders who have ruined their lives
On season four of The Handmaid’s Tale, lead character June (Elisabeth Moss) similarly leads an underground resistance network of fellow trafficked Handmaids and other Gileadean victims to topple the theocratic regime that has enslaved them.
The family you take on as an adult doesn’t always bring joy, solace and solidarity, unfortunately. As evinced throughout The Crown, multiple non-Windsors beyond Diana make sacrifices to enter and stay in the royal family, but at a high personal cost to them. Prince Philip (Tobias Menzies in the most recent seasons) must give up his inherent machismo and sense of adventure so his wife can lead a nation. Princess Margaret’s (Helena Bonham Carter) photographer husband refuses to do the same, leading to the end of their coupling and the start of her demise, which plays out in the fourth installment. I cannot wait to see what the series does with Fergie.
The desperation to be loved and accepted in a new marriage and family also propels much of the pathos in Netflix’s period romance Bridgerton, which sees a chaste debutante (Phoebe Dynevor) eventually welcome the carnality of newlywed life. Conflicts with her emotionally detached husband (Regé-Jean Page) and revelations about the dark-hearted bloodline he comes from, however, spur problems that seem to imprison her in uncertainty.
In contrast, entering a life of crime, debt and off-the-grid homesteading was exactly what The Mosquito Coast‘s Margot Fox (Melissa George) signed up for upon marrying anti-consumerist fugitive Allie (Justin Theroux). When the U.S. government tracks them down, it’s up to Margot to protect her family and the future she envisioned when she chose Allie.
These questions of chosen family feel especially potent as we confront a shifting pandemic in the U.S. During the past 18 months, people across the world have had endless time to rethink their relationships and what they value most in a partner or kindred spirit. Some of us are still learning how to choose wisely.
In the past 20 years of the Emmys, the first seasons of a show have won the drama series prize just four times: Lost in 2005, Mad Men in 2008, Homeland in 2012 and The Handmaid’s Tale in 2017. More than half of the victories since 2000 have gone to the same three series: The West Wing, Mad Men and Game of Thrones, all winning for four consecutive seasons.
So what does that mean for 2021? Last year’s winner, Succession, isn’t eligible, so it won’t be a back-to-back win for that HBO darling. Netflix, still looking for its first victory in the category, has The Crown’s fourth season in the race and could have the upper hand, though there are other veteran shows — former winner The Handmaid’s Tale for its fourth season; This Is Us’ for its fifth; and Pose, for its third and final season — vying for a trophy. And of course there are several new shows — including Lovecraft Country, Bridgerton, The Mosquito Coast and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier — hoping to defy the odds. — Rebecca Ford
This story first appeared in the June 16 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.
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