The disparity is a source of a great deal of online outrage given the reputation of Louie—which some expected had a chance to break through—and Parks and Recreation—which was nominated last year—among both critics and the people who follow them. However, it reveals a consistent tension between the part and the whole when it comes to evaluating television in this capacity. While the writers who decide the nominations in this category are pushed to focus on individual segments, those nominating series or performers are supposed to be focusing on entire seasons; of course, this requires them to have seen entire seasons. It’s no secret that most Emmy voters don’t watch as much television as critics or other engaged viewers, which often leads to presumptions that they don’t actually bother watching anything at all.

However, let’s give the Emmy voters a bit more credit: instead of watching nothing, what if they watch the episodes provided for them? At this stage in the race, networks send screeners to Emmy voters, but they usually only send a representative sample, selecting a handful of episodes—while networks have sent out entire seasons before (which helped DirecTV break into the Emmy race with Friday Night Lights), generally speaking even the more diligent Emmy voters who sit down to watch the material sent to them will only see a sliver of the seasons under consideration.

On this note, allow me to float a theory regarding the big story of this year’s awards, which is PBS’ Downton Abbey dominating the Drama Series categories. I discussed the series’ problematic definition as a Miniseries during last year’s awards (a discussion we could have again regarding FX’s category fraud with American Horror Story), and PBS managed a stunning collection of nominations moving into the main race, including six acting nominations (most among Drama Series), Writing, Directing, and a nomination in Outstanding Drama Series (knocking off the only commercial broadcast series in contention, CBS’ The Good Wife). While many predicted the series to break into the race after its success last year and its increased profile in season two, supporting nominations for Mr. Bates, Mr. Carson, and Anna were never part of the conversation.

For me, there are two factors to consider here. First, while the series is now in its proper category, there’s a certain degree of genius in PBS’ accidental Emmy gamesmanship: by launching first in the safety of Miniseries, Downton took advantage of the prestigious but sparse nature of the Movie/Miniseries categories, gaining considerable profile in “high-class” categories before trying to break into the series race. While shows like Mad Men had to share the Drama Series narrative with shows like Friday Night Lights and Boardwalk Empire last year, Downton swept Outstanding Miniseries/Movie and the attached writing and directing categories despite strong competition from the HBO machine and Mildred Pierce.

However, more importantly, PBS treated Downton like a Miniseries even while submitting it in the Drama Series category. They only submitted a single episode for consideration in Writing/Directing—the season-ending Christmas special that brought the season’s storylines to a romantic and tragic conclusion respectively— where other series submit 8-10. However, they simultaneously sent the entire season to Emmy voters, meaning that those who desired to consume the whole series could do so (more quickly than with longer runs for shows like Mad Men or Homeland). Its ability to be both easily reduced and easily consumed makes for a strong combination, and it seems to have worked: the presence of Michelle Dockery—prominent in the Christmas Special—over Oscar nominee Elizabeth McGovern (who was nominated last year), and the dual nominations for Brendan Coyle—whose Mr. Bates was wrongfully convicted of Murder in the episode—and Joanne Froggatt—playing his wife—would both suggest that the Christmas Special was at the forefront of voters’ minds when they cast their ballots, meaning that voters either started at the end or made it there eventually.

I raise this point not to cast aspersions on Downton Abbey’s nominations—although my punny title may betray my thoughts on the series’ second season—so much as to understand the context in which they appear in such number. While some could suggest its presence in these categories as a win for populist, non-commercial television, that its reputation was born in the highbrow Movie/Miniseries category frames its presence here very differently. Additionally, it is a presence that could very well be framed by a single episode, either as a standalone installment or an emphatic end note to a short-run season viewed in its entirety.

At this point in the race, the Emmy Awards become all about selection: actors and actresses submit a single episode of exemplary work (which is aired in its entirety for Lead Acting nominees and edited into only scenes featuring the nominee in Supporting), while series submit three sets of two episodes with each Emmy voter receiving one of the three at random. While this does mean that no show is ever judged based on an entire season, and no actor is ever considered based on a larger body of work, it does mean that Downton’s focus on a single episode or an entire season is no longer so easy to control—whether they have three sets of two episodes that can equally wow voters now becomes the question of the hour.

[For more analysis of the awards, see News for TV Majors’ Roundup post.]

Fast forward two years and I finally got around to watching the series and my viewing happened to coincide with the program’s tenth anniversary. In the decade since its release, BOB has become a phenomenal success on DVD – it has generated upwards of $250M in DVD and Blue-ray sales – while drawing consistent audiences in rerun showings. So what is the key to the miniseries’ enduring appeal?

It is difficult to come up with a straightforward answer to this question. Certainly, the fact that this story is grounded in a concrete sequence of historical events featuring a group of visible characters lends the program a compelling degree of immediacy and authenticity. At a time when we are losing our last tangible connections to World War II, the story of “Easy Company”, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment assigned to the US’ army’s 101st Airborne Division resonates broadly. The story of this tight band of paratroopers is notable and somewhat familiar thanks to Stephen E. Ambrose’s popular history , Major Dick Winters memoirs, and the posthumously published war memoir of David Kenyon Webster. There is also We Stand Alone Together: The Men of Easy Company, a documentary that features surviving members of the company describing their experiences in the war in a somber manner (this was included on the DVD release of the miniseries). All of this material lends a certain heft to the dramatization of the battalion’s experiences, particularly given the way that each episode opens with relevant reflections from unidentified company veterans. This has the effect of establishing that this account has been sanctioned by those who suffered through the events depicted.

The program itself is beautiful in appearance and impeccable in its plotting and detail, albeit with a fair bit of poetic license and the odd inaccuracy. Executive Producers Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks evidently took a great deal of care in mapping out the story and the result is a taut, exceptionally well-paced series that manages to feature a variety of perspectives while maintaining its focus and momentum. The episodes trace Easy Company’s progression from its initial training period in Toccoa, Georgia to England and D-Day and the subsequent Market Garden and Bastogne campaigns. The final episodes, which see the company taking Hitler’s ‘Eagle’s Nest’ in the Bavarian alps and then functioning as an occupying force provide a welcome perspective on a seldom seen side of war.

Major Dick Winters is the ostensible center of this ensemble cast, but he is the narrative focal point of only three episodes (“Day of Days”, “Crossroads”, and “Points”). Other episodes focus on secondary characters in a manner that provides a well-rounded overview of life in the company over the course of these difficult campaigns. This is one of BOB’s major strengths as this technique provides multiple points of identification while highlighting the complexity of the events depicted. This variety of perspectives helps BOB to avoid the tendency to slip into a simplistic glorification of classic war tropes like courage, sacrifice, and duty. Depictions of soldiers dying through preventable accidents, attempting to avoid exposure to harm in the war’s later stages, and grappling with alcoholism undoubtedly contribute to BOB’s credibility in this regard.

One other quality of BOB bears mention: the camera has a way of stalking the soldiers whenever they are in a position where they might potentially encounter the enemy. The perspective provided by this practice ratchets up the tension in scenes where this is deployed. For example, Day of Days (Episode 9) sees a patrol head out to explore the woods surrounding the occupied German town of Landsberg am Lech. The camera moves through the trees around the small group of soldiers as an eerie quiet descends. Just when the viewer thinks that the group might be subject to ambush, the soldiers encounter a clearing wherein they see a Nazi concentration camp for the very first time. The viewer’s anxiety over a potential ambush gives way to a sense of horror at this discovery in a brief sequence that exemplifies the way that shot composition and plotting combine to produce moments of tremendous dramatic tension.

All of these these factors helped me to get past my skepticism and surrender to the narrative. Where I would normally be predisposed to a critique of the program’s overt nationalism and its depiction of historical events, I quickly became wrapped up in the trials and tribulations of Easy Company. This is a function of the factors outlined above, along with BOB’s superb production values and fine performances. Reflecting on the program, it occurs to me that perhaps the miniseries is the television format that best utilizes the medium’s strengths. The format allows sufficient space for a long-form narrative to unfold while its set length and budget shield it from the economic concerns so that so often come to structure television productions. In the case of BOB, it provided the means to create a perfectly contained storyworld that illuminates an aspect of the past in a manner that is often instructive and always entertaining. My experience with this program has motivated me to seek out other miniseries. While I think I will begin with The Pacific, HBO’s companion piece to BOB, I would welcome any suggestions readers might be willing to provide in the comments.

Those who follow the awards closely were less surprised, aware that AMC’s decision to delay the start of the fourth season until this month meant that they were skipping an eligibility cycle (as this year’s cycle ended in early June). While we are often quick to point out the flaws in the Emmy nomination process, lamenting the absence of our favorite programs, often the nominations are guided as much by these kinds of technicalities as by voter subjectivities.

The eligibility cycle is one of those technicalities that makes sense: it was chosen to reflect the traditional broadcast season, and was introduced in 1961 in part due to complaints in 1957 when Nanette Fabray won an award for The Sid Caesar Show despite having left the show late in its 1955-56 season. While cable scheduling complicates this structure, which results in Breaking Bad sitting out this year’s awards, it remains the most logical and functional way of determining eligibility.

Not many people are aware of the rules surrounding eligibility, like what happens with a show that straddles the eligibility period, in part because they rarely ever truly matter (although, for the record, if a show airs at least six episodes before the cutoff date, the subsequent episodes can also be submitted so long as there are less than six episodes). However, a quick glance at the nominations might raise certain questions about eligibility rules, given that they appear to be somewhat askew.

Case in point: Margo Martindale, who was billed as a guest star on Justified in its second season, was nominated for Supporting Actress in a Drama Series. Meanwhile, her co-star Jeremy Davies was also billed as a guest star, but was nominated for Guest Actor in a Drama Series. Another example: Cloris Leachman, who appeared in nearly every episode of Raising Hope’s first season, is nominated for Guest Actress in a Comedy Series where she competes with Kristin Chenoweth, who appeared in one episode of Glee – both were billed as guest stars.

While broad eligibility is something that the Emmys regulate, actors can submit in whatever category they would like (unless a series regular tries to submit in guest). Rob Lowe, a recent addition to the cast of Parks and Recreation, submitted as a Lead Actor largely based on his previous experience as a lead actor (or, at the very least, his previous experience pretending he was a Lead Actor on shows where he was not; see: The West Wing, where he also submitted as Lead alongside Martin Sheen).

The Emmys don’t have any rules about what constitutes a Lead or a Supporting role (and eliminated their “under six episodes” rule for billed guest stars back in 2007), believing – I presume – that the nominating process will sort that out: even if Lowe had been nominated by popular vote, the jury screening his submitted episode (which happens after you’re nominated) would have seen that it was a supporting performance, and chosen someone who was truly the lead in their show.

This presumes, of course, that the voters are paying attention at all. The oft-cited case of Ellen Burstyn’s 2006 nomination for a 14-second performance in Mrs. Harris reveals the trend towards established stars earning nominations based solely on their name, a trend driven primarily by the fact that most Emmy voters probably don’t watch everything they vote for. It’s how you get nominees like Oscar-nominee and Emmy-winner Paul Giamatti, who was nominated as a Supporting Actor in a Miniseries or TV Movie for a glorified cameo (albeit one that certainly takes up more than 14 seconds of screen time, meeting the new 5% rule instated after Burstyn’s nomination) in HBO’s Too Big to Fail.

We can chalk up most of these acting eligibility oddities to a harmless combination of strategy and technicality, with a little bit of voter ignorance thrown in – no harm, no foul. However, a larger issue of eligibility can be chalked up to a transatlantic divide. PBS garnered nominations for both Downton Abbey and Sherlock: A Study in Pink, while BBC America found success with Luther. All three are British imports, and more importantly all three are part of what the British consider continuing series: Downtown returns for a second series in the fall, Sherlock recently finished filming a second set of three 90-minute episodes, and Luther just aired its second series this summer. By Emmy standards, however, they were considered Miniseries (or, in the case of Sherlock, a TV Movie), a fundamental shift in form allowed based on different standards (you need six episodes to be considered a series by the Emmys) and broadcast inconsistencies (with Downton Abbey‘s seven episodes turned into four to fit the PBS Masterpiece timeslot).

It raises some logistical questions: when Luther and Downton Abbey return to America, will PBS and BBC America have to give them new names in order to submit them again in the Miniseries categories? They submit in these categories in part because they’re less competitive (none of these programs had a chance in the Drama Series categories), but how does this structural mutation affect their future chances?

While we can discuss whether the Emmys are relevant, and whether it’s worth getting up in arms about this snub or that undeserved nomination, I always find myself drawn to issues like eligibility that raise questions which go beyond “What was the best?” to “How was the best defined for those who answer that question?” It is in the latter we will find answers (albeit answers sometimes lacking in logic), while the former offers only acrimony and more questions.