Look, I get it. Michaela Coel was absolutely robbed. The lack of recognition for her show, I May Destroy You, by the Golden Globes is absolutely egregious. Her performance in the BBC series is astounding. The programme itself is a rule-breaking, boundary-pushing work of absolute genius. She, and it, should have been nominated in every category for which it was applicable. The fact that it is not speaks to the hugely flawed nomination system by the 90 - yes, only 90 - voters, and the fact that Hollywood celebrates work that fits the moulds that they are comfortable with rather than those that dispense with them completely. However, I have a bugbear about one way in which the rage felt on Michaela's behalf has manifested. I am greatly concerned with the Emily In Paris bashing that has led the discourse. Specifically, the focus on Lily Collins.
Cards on the table: I really enjoyed Emily In Paris. It was light, fluffy fare that really kept me entertained for the week of its release. I found it charmant. Snappy. Delightfully warming. Does it deserve to be nominated over I May Destroy You? No, it does not. Is Lily Collins' performance superior to Michaela Coel's? No, it is not. Even Deborah Copaken, a writer on Emily In Paris, has gone on record saying that I May Destroy You's snub is unacceptable. But as we debate the values of the arts, must we tear down one woman while raising another up? Surely not.
Lily Collins is, actually, very good in Emily In Paris. The character, on paper, is insufferable. We have talked and talked about how she behaves horribly, how she is ill-prepared for work and a bad friend to Camille. And yet, we kept watching. It was all anyone talked about for a fortnight. We long for the promised season two. Why? Because Lily elevated the character with her pluck and charm. And her eyebrows. Much like Sarah Jessica Parker with the actually awful Carrie Bradshaw, Lily made us love a flawed woman. That is not as easy as you might think.
You may disagree, which is your right. But regardless, yesterday morning Lily woke up and found out that she was nominated for a prestigious - despite its flaws, the Golden Globes are prestigious - award. She deserves to celebrate, to be thrilled and proud of herself. She does not deserve to log on to social media and see herself held up as the symbol of the award system's inherent flaws. In this scenario, she is Taylor Swift at the MTV Video Music Awards, standing on stage at her moment of glory. Twitter is behaving like Kanye West, storming the podium to rail against an error and, in the process, humiliate a wholly innocent woman. Lily's fellow nominees in the category - Kaley Cuoco, Elle Fanning, Catherine O'Hara and Jane Levy - are not receiving the same level of backlash, presumably because we subconsciously see Lily as an extension of Emily herself: innocent, naive, easily mocked, fair game.
I'm sure Lily will lose no sleep over this. She did a good job, and she has been acknowledged accordingly. She deserves to be pleased and proud of herself. We have every right to complain until the proverbial cows come home that The Hollywood Foreign Press have shown themselves as fools by not appreciating I May Destroy You and its star. But we also need to find a way to vent this frustration that doesn't lead to collateral damage.
Michaela, you're a genius. Lily, you're a TV dream. The shame lies with those who couldn't find space for both.
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