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In this week’s episode of The Envelope podcast, the Welsh actor joins The Envelope for a conversation about his Emmy-nominated roles in “Widow’s Bay” and “The Beast in Me.”

Kelvin Washington: Hello, and welcome to this week’s episode of The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal and Mark Olsen here. We’ve been talking about it now for the last couple of weeks, but we’re less than a month away from the Emmys. Mariska Hargitay is gonna be the host. I’m looking forward to that because who’s living a better life than her? She’s nominated, of course. She’s hosting. And her Knicks won the NBA championship — she’s at this point an honorary Knick. I mean, it’s like she’s on the team.

Yvonne Villarreal: And she went to the Taylor Swift wedding.

Washington: That’s a good point.

Villarreal: Don’t forget that. And starring on Broadway.

Washington: So she is living her best life, yeah.

Villarreal: She’s living a better life than I am.

Washington: So I’m going to answer the question first. I’m gonna ask you, what are you looking forward to [at the Emmys]? Maybe some things you’re excited for. For me, it’s just seeing this culmination of all these things for her and just having a big moment there. I think she’s gonna own that space and I think everybody’s gonna enjoy it as well. What are you looking forward to?

Villarreal: I’m really, really excited to see my beloved Philip and Elizabeth Jennings as nominees — Matthew Rhys and Keri Russell. Not to be parasocial, but I just love that they’re both nominated. I just want a magical night for them both.

Mark Olsen: I don’t want to be a bring-down bummer here, but, you know, I find that the Emmys in particular, even more than the Oscars, kind of play favorites, and the same winners can happen again and again. It’s not as bad as it may once have been, but I’m always rooting for new blood, first-time nominees, people that it’s exciting to see them kind of get this platform. So nothing against your beloved, but I would be excited to see an underdog or somebody kind of an outsider. Say, for example, the rest of the cast of “Widow’s Bay,” which as you’ve said before, really came out of nowhere, [and] it’s become a bit of a favorite this season. And there’s some other performers there, Dale Dickey, Stephen Root, Kate O’Flynn, and I think any of them winning would be really exciting.

Villarreal: I won’t argue with that.

Washington: I was waiting on an argument.

Villarreal: We fight off camera.

Washington: And by the way, Mark, I mean, can good be good? Or great be great? If I’m great 10 years in a row, can I just be great 10 years in a row and win? You’re putting limitations on my victories.

Olsen: Yeah, but at some point, your shelf is full.

Washington: That’s true. Don’t worry about what’s going on in my mantle, all right?

That being said, we got Matthew Rhys, who you had a chance to speak to. Double nominee here, “Widow’s Bay” and “The Beast in Me.” Tell me a little bit more about your conversation.

Olsen: Just a rare double nominee, lead actor in a comedy series with “Widow’s Bay,” and then lead actor in a limited or anthology series or movie with “The Beast in Me.” And I think what’s exciting here is that these are just two very different performances. He’s this manipulative, maybe psychopathic real estate developer in “The Beast in Me,” and then this kind of harried, put-upon single dad and mayor of a small, cursed New England island in “Widow’s Bay,” and I think both of these roles show new sides of Matthew to audiences. But then when you take them together, it just feels like something else entirely.

Washington: All right, well let’s take a look. It’s M&M — Matthew and Mark — here now.

Matthew Rhys.

(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)

Mark Olsen: For the Los Angeles Times and The Envelope, I’m Mark Olsen. I’m here today with Matthew Rhys, who is nominated for an Emmy for lead actor in a comedy series for “Widow’s Bay” [and] lead actor in a limited or anthology series [or movie] for “The Beast in Me,” and another nomination as executive producer on “Widow’s Bay.”

Matthew Rhys: I forgot about the executive producer part. It’s an exciting time.

Olsen: And now being nominated for these two performances, which are very different performances —

Rhys: [whispers] They’re not really.

Olsen: Now tell me about that. You don’t think they are?

Rhys: Look, I think I was about to speak for a number of actors and I shouldn’t. I can only speak for myself. Sometimes there’s seemingly or feels like there’s very little difference in them. I’m not, I don’t pretend to be an enormously transformative actor, hunting for the “chameleon” praise.

Olsen: But do you consider yourself versatile? It’s so interesting to me to hear you say you don’t see these roles as that different.

Rhys: I wouldn’t say I’m versatile in that chameleon-like way or transformative way, I just try to work from a place… We’re already into it.

Olsen: That’s what we’re here for.

Rhys: I know. It always makes me nauseous. I do try to live in a place that feels real to me and that what we talk about, working from your center. So when I move away from that, things start to feel insincere, so I tend not to.

Olsen: With “Widow’s Bay,” a lot of the coverage around it has been talking about how it’s been a real surprise hit. And I’m just wondering, what is it that you think that audiences are responding to?

Rhys: You know, timing is everything. I do think there was a place that was ready for “Widow’s Bay,” whereby nothing of the sort had been around for a while. You hadn’t had “Twin Peaks,” although we were kind of slightly “The Office,” “Twin Peaks,” sprinkling of “Northern Exposure” maybe, but nothing I think of that sort had been for a while. So I think people were just ready for something different, and then we’re certainly different.

Olsen: Betty Gilpin, your co-star on the show, she is also a nominee, in a recent interview said that she feels like it’s as if audiences are rejecting this idea of a really sort of safe, algorithm-approved show. And do you feel the same?

Rhys: Absolutely, and it’s wildly refreshing to know that people are going, “No, we want something different. And we are intelligent enough to deal with it. So give it to us.” And that I found very, very inspiring, very encouraging — that television and film should be pushing itself continually for that original material and not relying on remakes.

Olsen: When did you realize that the show was connecting in the way that it is? I’ve seen in some other interviews you say that even when you were shooting it, you weren’t totally sure, didn’t totally think that it would connect with people.

Rhys: No, none of us — a lot of us were like, “Are we getting the tone right? Is this right? Is this going to work?” It was a swing. It was an absolute swing. A kind of beautiful one, nonetheless. But we were all concerned — not concerned, maybe just intrigued — as to how it would be received. And it was a little bit more word of mouth. Friends were saying, “Oh, I’ve seen your show.” And then throughout my career, it’s probably the job I’ve been stopped most for. And I’m not saying that happens often. But at least twice I’ve been stopped for it. So that’s been refreshing.

Olsen: And people are really talking a lot about this mix of tones. It’s a horror-comedy that’s both very much funny and scary. What was the challenge of getting that mix right?

Rhys: Making both real, ultimately. I know that sounds very obvious and stupid, but it’s true. And also Katie Dippold spoke to this, the creator and writer, where she said she kind of thought one can almost relieve the other. When there’s incredible tension from horror, when the laugh comes in, it’s almost a big laugh because it’s the relief of being allowed to laugh. So she says sometimes that can pay off in a way. It’s much harder the other way around, but it also works the other way around where you catch an audience off guard because they’re laughing and then you hit them with horror. So I think both bizarrely can help each other.

Olsen: I’m thinking about something like the episode that’s mostly on a boat, that gets very sort of slapstick-y at moments, but then there’s still something very terrifying about what’s happening there.

Rhys: Yes, we’ve hit the nail on the head. That kind of tone I found very hard. There are these borderline farcical moments of wrestling with a man who’s 400 years old and it becoming kind of very comedic physically and yet it has to remain that there’s this element of danger or threat that’s very real and palpable. And so those are the moments you try and ground in a way so that the extreme elements can also live in a real place.

Olsen: Because you mentioned a man who’s 400 years old, the mythology of the show gets more complicated as it goes along, right up until the very last episode. Were there moments where you had to sort of step aside and ask people to explain it to you?

Rhys: No, because I think the chronology is laid out beautifully throughout the series and you’re kind of led in a way where it unfolds very organically. So I was very relieved that to be the case that there’s no kind of, “Wait, where are we? What’s, who’s this?” So that I thought was kind of beautifully executed. And because of that, because of the detail in the backstory, then the story I think pays off far greater.

Olsen: The final episode really lands it so well as far as being both funny and scary and also the way that it sets up a next season, which happily is happening. The finale promises even more murder and mayhem for Season 2. I know the writers room is already hard at work. Do you have any insights on what at least you would like to see happen?

Rhys: No, I’m desperately intrigued as to what she has in mind because I wouldn’t have the first clue as to where to start Season 2. I’m very assured that the warped mind of Katie Dippold will helm us into a giddy storm.

Olsen: One thing I have to ask about “Widow’s Bay” is simply, in preparing to play this small-town mayor who’s very concerned about tourist season, did you refer at all to maybe the most famous other small-town mayor played by Murray Hamilton in “Jaws”?

Rhys: Well, I would like to say yes because “Jaws” is an enormous favorite of mine, but he’s a very different mayor, if you look at his mayor. He’s very assured. He gets a little frustrated with Brody, but he’s not that kind of cortisol-burning, wild-eyed panic that Tom Loftis is. He is far more assured of what he should be doing for the municipality than Tom is. I even said at one point, I said, “Can we get away with the jacket, you know, the anchor jacket?” And they were like, no, because that would be too obvious.

Olsen: I like that you had the impulse.

Rhys: A lot of my performances have some reference to “Jaws,” regardless of the piece, because I’m usually Quint. So I was very upset in the boat scene you referenced when obviously myself, Stephen Root and Hamish Linklater sat around and said, OK, Stephen Root, you are obviously Quint, what does that make Hamish and myself? Who’s [Richard] Dreyfuss and who’s Roy Scheider in this? And Hamish went, “Well, I’m Dreyfuss.” I was like, “I am not Brody.” They’re like, “You’re wearing the life jacket. Of course you’re Brody!” This is the kind of thing actors talk about.

Olsen: But you weren’t happy with that?

Rhys: I’ve always wanted to be Quint. I love Brody, but my heart lies with Quint

Olsen: Now, I came to realize that “Brothers and Sisters,” it goes back 20 years now that you were on that show. And I’m just so curious, working steadily in TV for 20 years now, how has the job of being an actor on TV changed in that time?

Rhys: I don’t think it’s changed, per se. From a personal point of view, it’s been incredible to play the wide variety that I’ve been allowed to. I think the scope of television has changed wildly in 20 years and the length and breadth of the variety there is kind of remarkable at times. And sometimes you wonder if it’s sustainable. If anything, it’s offered more opportunities, I think, for actors, but the kind of core fundamentals I think are still the same.

Olsen: Do you yourself watch a lot of TV?

Rhys: Yes, yes. I never watch myself, but yes. I tend to lean towards more documentaries than anything else. Fiction, I’m always like, “Oh, that’s the day job.”

Olsen: Because I know you’ve talked a lot about your interest in boats, and is there a lot of boats-and-restoration content out there?

Rhys: What, fiction or documentary-wise?

Olsen: I wonder what your algorithm is like.

Rhys: I don’t do much with Instagram but my algorithm is generally older men showing you how to kind of spile a garboard plank next to a keel, things like that.

Olsen: And are there a lot of documentaries about boats and restoration?

Rhys: There’s a lot on YouTube, none of which really hold your attention. What I think is like, where is the kind of “Chef’s Table” of boat restoration? That’s what I’m waiting for.

Olsen: I think you maybe have to be the one to make that show.

Rhys: I might have to, but I worry about the breadth of audience we’d have there. Or how to make boat restoration interesting to the masses. Therein lies the challenge.

Olsen: Well, they say niche markets sometimes …

Rhys: You can capture a zeitgeist moment.

Olsen: With your work on television, you have a really strong track record between “Brothers and Sisters,” “The Americans,” “Perry Mason,” now with “Widow’s Bay,” and also with “The Beast in Me.” For you, what goes into choosing a role?

Rhys: This is the real luxury of having a degree of choice. It’s not always choice, but more often than not, a project comes along that I’ll read and there’ll be a number of things. I’ll be like, “Ooh, I’ve never done it.” Like “Widow’s Bay,” I read it and I went, “The scripts are fantastic and I have never done anything like this in my life.” “Beast in Me,” the same, the writing’s so strong, but also that role is something I’d never done before. And the same, obviously, for “The Americans” and “Brothers and Sisters.” So if there’s an opportunity to try something very new, to me, it’s the ultimate luxury. And so that’s been a real driving force. And strong stories, the want of knowing how it ends, just simple storytelling.

Olsen: Do you find that your instincts have changed over the years? Are you looking for the same things that you feel like you were when you were starting in television 20 years ago?

Rhys: No, not necessarily. I always wanted, if I was fortunate enough, to do something that would challenge me, that would push me, that I hadn’t done, that’d scare me, that’d make me nervous every day on set, which a lot of these projects have done. I thought that would be all that I’d want.

Olsen: Because your character in “The Beast in Me,” again, I have to come back to this idea that you think these two roles are kind of similar, because your character on “The Beast in Me” seems so self-assured, like he has a confidence that Loftis does not have.

Rhys: Yes, that is very true and it was the observation of the wealthy that kind of led me there and especially uber-wealth, where there’s a real assurance of not having to try almost because there’s no need and this innate feeling that you will absolutely get your own way and people will bend to your will purely because of wealth.

Olsen: And now playing that role, getting a little taste of that, like, is that a nice place?

Rhys: What, self-assured?

Olsen: Is that a good position to be in, that people do what you want.

Rhys: Oh, I’m sure it’s great. I’ve never tasted it. It’s something I aspire to by the hour. And being riddled with all the cliched insecurities that every other actor, when you’re playing it, you go, “God, this feels great. To not even have to try with people must be so wonderful.” I’ve no desire to kind of glean the kind of affirmation from the person I’m talking to. Almost quite the opposite.

Olsen: “Widow’s Bay” has such a big ensemble, and then in “The Beast in Me,” really most of your scenes are just you and Claire Danes in this series of escalating conversations. Did you like that distinction? For “The Beast in Me,” did you like the pared-back intimacy of those scenes that the two of you have?

Rhys: Absolutely. I think that was the big draw of the piece, these two people who are kind of, they’re like two magnets in a way, they’re so drawn, they are so repulsed, they’re kind of images of each other’s shadow self, they see so much of each other while [being] polarizingly different. That to me was part of the great draw of that piece, with these two people and how they connected or seemingly didn’t.

Olsen: I don’t think you’ve worked with Claire Danes before?

Rhys: Prior to that, no.

Olsen: Because just in a practical sense, what is it like for two actors when you have so many of your scenes together? Like you sort of have to feel out not only how the characters are, but also how you as performers, as work colleagues, get through the day. What is that process like?

Rhys: I mean, look, with Claire, having known and watched her body of work, [I knew] she’s like a powerhouse and kind of brings that to set. And from day one of rehearsals, I kind of sat up and went, “Oh God, right, come on, let’s focus here,” because she has that laser that is on a switch. And when it’s switched, it’s on. And woe betide you if you haven’t prepared as well as she has. So that was very quick. The ascent of going, “Right, yes, A-game at all times, please.” Which is fantastic. It’s everything you want in a scene partner. It’s someone who kind of scares you and kind of raises your game and demands, you know, a kind of a better tennis game, although I’ve never played tennis. I’m sure it’s great.

Olsen: Do you feel like you’re that kind of actor too?

Rhys: No. I’m the one making fart jokes and then kind of going, “Will you concentrate?” I don’t think I have that kind of prowess, that kind of switch [that] is so alarmingly kind of night and day. I creak into it.

Olsen: Because there’s an intensity to your performance here. I mean, it goes big at times, there’s the “Psycho Killer” dance —

Rhys: The Achilles’ heel. I begged them to remove that scene because anywhere I see the scene direction “He dances” or “[Character] dances,” I can taste the vomit in my own mouth.

Olsen: And now did you choreograph that ahead of time?

Rhys: Nope, I just went for it. In fact a very charming woman came up to me on the street and she goes, “I love ‘The Beast in Me’ and I loved how camp your dancing was.” And I went, “Oh, it wasn’t meant to be necessarily camp.” Well, clearly it was to her. And also playing drunk, drunk and dancing, I was like, “Oh, some vicious planets are aligning.”

Olsen: And do you have a trick to drunk acting?

Rhys: Yes, I get drunk. It’s a very simple trick that most actors overlook. You just drink and then you’re drunk. The only time I venture into Method acting.

Olsen: But then about how many takes do you have in you?

Rhys: Two. No, no, I didn’t get drunk. I got tipsy. No, no it’s very different. It’s hard, it’s hard. That’s always a hard one because also we shot that over the entire day. So it started at like 8 a.m.And to be perfectly honest, sometimes you’ll do a take and it’s like, the drunk acting is too apparent. Let’s bring it back. Claire Danes nailed drunk acting from take one. And I was like, god— it! I mean, she’s done it again.

Olsen: And then also the chicken scene, how many chickens did you have to eat?

Rhys: I come into my own. Eating on screen is not and never has been a problem for me. I will take down any amount of food and I will not ask for a spit bucket. They were like, “Oh, we have a spit bucket.” I think, “No, I’m not spitting up perfectly good chicken” — and it was really good chicken. I think I went through about three chickens. What I loved about that scene, and this is what I love about all good writing, is when a brief element, usually it’s wordless, can say so much about a character or what the character is trying to do to the person in the room through a very simple action. So I loved that from what it did in that moment. He’s doing it overtly to try and intimidate her. It’s something which says so much about him and the way he does it, I thought it was an incredibly beautiful and shrewd piece of writing.

Olsen: Over the course of the series, how did you modulate how crazy to seem?

Rhys: Because it’s kind of present from the get-go. And that was a heavy reliance on the directors. We had some incredible directors on that. Antonio Campos, who kind of began and ended us, we had a little bit of a dial, and he was like, “Bring it back a bit” or “I think it needs a little more.” He was very good at truly kind of conducting in that moment. And we had the luxury of being able to do a few takes where he’s like, “Bring it up a bit” or, “OK, that’s good, let’s take it down a bit.”

Olsen: Were you happy with how that ended up?

Rhys: I don’t watch it. I haven’t watched myself in about 10 years. I get stuck on the wrong things. I become too concerned about the way I use my hands or how strange my walk is or the weird kind of idiosyncrasy of my mouth. So then when I’m doing it next, I’m like, “I am not going to do anything with my hands and I’m going to change my walk.” And then the director is like, “What is wrong with your walk and why are you sitting on your hands?” So I tend not to watch myself.

Olsen: You said 10 years ago. Did something really make you be like, “I’m not doing that anymore?”

Rhys: In fairness, it was more than 10 years ago. It was “Brothers and Sisters.” I started watching that and I was like, “Oh my God. Why has no one said anything? Look at my posture.” And then you become obsessed with sitting with better posture. And then everyone’s like, “Why are you sitting weirdly?” I was never clever enough to take from it a kind of positive critical foundation. I was taking the wrong things, usually physically attributed, that would get in my head when I was acting. And then that’s all I could think about while I was doing it, and I was on a road to ruin.

Olsen: So often you’re doing an American accent or a voice that is not your own and I know for myself I feel like I wouldn’t be able to think about anything but that, that’s all I would be able think about while I was performing.

Rhys: The accent is strange because I think in one way such an enormous part of my head is always working on the next sound to come out of my mouth. I think it stops you in a way from kind of acting, if that makes sense. It takes the self-conscious element out of you because you’re so busy working on something else. My acting teacher from drama school would always say, “Give yourself something to do to stop yourself acting.” It’s like you’re spending so much time thinking about the way you sound, it can relax you in a different way because you’re not thinking about acting.

Olsen: And then is it also a big challenge for you to try to make different American accents? How hard is it for you to do those different American sounds?

Rhys: It depends on the accent. I mean, sometimes the more extreme sounds are easier to hook into, like, you know, the Southern states or Boston or New York. Then you get, you know, California’s kind of softer, so it’s harder. It doesn’t have that extreme hook to find. And then there are just simply words in the American dialect that can take me down, like “murderer” or “world,” sometimes “girl” is tricky. But “murderer.” Which is unfortunate, because I played lawyers, spies who kill people. I’ve had to say it a lot. So I always go, “Can I say ‘killer’?” I just sound like I run out of battery.

Olsen: Do you find that living in America, has it helped you?

Rhys: Oh, without question, because going into a job, a couple of weeks before, I’ll be doing it — not at home, because it drives the kids crazy. They’re like, “He sounds so fake.” And then they’re like “Oh, here he is, he’s doing that again.” I’m like, “I’m not Dick Van Dyke, so I don’t know who you’re impersonating.” So yeah, you can go into the bodega and pretend to be American.

Olsen: On the day that Emmy nominations were announced, you did an interview with my colleague, Yvonne Villarreal, and you told her that you were meeting your partner, Keri Russell, also an Emmy nominee, at a mystery location. Would you mind completing that story? Where did you go?

Rhys: We went to the U.N. No, we didn’t, but I wish I could say that. We went to the Armory in New York with, oh God, I can’t remember the name of the exhibition. It was an incredible exhibition where three enormous tanks of water were filled with water and ceramic bowls and a current was introduced and then these ceramic bowls would clank into each other to make different noises in this incredible space. It was wondrous. Now, if the artist, for some unknown reason, watches this and goes, “I can’t believe he didn’t remember my name or the name of the exhibition,” I apologize profusely. But it was incredible.

Olsen: That sounds like a great way to spend the day.

Rhys: Yeah, it was. It was fantastic. And then we had a great dinner and celebrated and said, you know, “This is the high point, it’s downhill from here on out.”

Olsen: Well, the two of you were recently referred to as television’s first couple.

Rhys: I said that.

Olsen: And I’m wondering, I can only imagine you don’t walk around thinking of yourself —

Rhys: Oh, no, I do. I have a badge and a T-shirt, but no one believes me.

Olsen: But what does that make you think of when you hear yourselves referred to in that way?

Rhys: It kind of makes me laugh. You go, “Oh, God.” And also — and I hate to sound like I’m some bitter old fool, but I am — we’ve done it a long time. We’re of a certain age. You kind of know tomorrow there’s another first couple. So you go, “We’re today’s first couple, and it’s great. And we’ll take it and we’ll enjoy it.”

Olsen: Do you find, especially in the way that your personal and professional lives are intertwined, is it good that you have each other to keep yourselves in check?

Rhys: Yes, it also helps that you have a partner that fully understands what you do, because it’s a mad circus life and sometimes, you know, it’s hard, I think, for partners who don’t quite understand how crazy it is. So it is great in that respect that you fully understand what the other one is doing.

Olsen: And is that also part of where your interest in boats comes from? Is it something that’s totally separate?

Rhys: So she could kick me out of the house is why she bought me the boat.

Olsen: There’s something just totally separate from your work life.

Rhys: Absolutely, absolutely. And it’s something so other. … Opinions can vary so wildly, you know, critics can contradict each other in certain criticisms. The kind of more simple aspect, especially when I was restoring the boat, was that it felt a lot purer and simpler. That you can, at the end of the day, you look back at this piece of wood you’d be working on and go, “There we are, I did that.” And there’s no one saying, “Well, you could have done it this way.” You know what I mean? I always enjoyed the satisfaction it gave me in that sense.

Olsen: Wait, how many boats do you have?

Rhys: I only have one. She’s for sale, if anyone’s interested.

Olsen: Do you want to now find another boat to do this all over again?

Rhys: I don’t, because my wrists have given up. It was much harder than I thought it was going to be. It was an incredible journey, and it was kind of inspired by Hemingway, in a way, it was the same class of boat that he had. So I had all these giddy, kind of rose-tinted romantic notions of what I was doing until I was knee-deep in fiberglass, going, “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

The Emmys’ writing and directing categories sometimes offer a window into the eventual winners, as when “The Studio” swept through the ceremony last year. Other times, voters decide to go their own way. “Slow Horses” has never won the drama series Emmy, but it has won awards for writing and directing the past two years. Noodles for everyone!

The episode submissions this year are a little baffling, often not reflecting the series’ best work. But what do I know? Maybe those “Pitt” submissions primed the waterworks. Perhaps it’s politics.

What I do know are my own personal preferences. So here are my rankings of the writing and directing nominees for drama, comedy and limited series, ordered from least to best.

Comedy series directing

6. “The Ms. Pat Show,” “Give It Arrest”
Directed by Mary Lou Belli

If you haven’t watched Patricia “Ms. Pat” Williams’ unfiltered show, it’s been on BET+ for five seasons and this is Belli’s third nomination for directing. The fan base is nothing if not loyal.

5. “The Chair Company,” “Life Goes By Too F— Fast, It Really Does”
Directed by Andrew DeYoung

Cathartic cringe comedy for people who thought “Severance” was too lighthearted.

4. “Abbott Elementary,” “Ballgame”
Directed by Randall Einhorn

No small feat to shoot during a live baseball game, and the episode is so good (Kyle Schwarber blasts four home runs!) that, even as a Dodgers fan, I can’t say boo about the Philly-ness of it.

3. “Widow’s Bay,” “Welcome to Widow’s Bay!”
Directed by Hiro Murai

As the episode title suggests, it’s the table-setter. There were better episodes, but the last three aired past the eligibility deadline, so this will do.

2. “The Bear,” “Bears”
Directed by Christopher Storer

Tiff and Frank’s wedding, proof that Season 4 of “The Bear” had more than its share of high points. Another showcase for Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s acting and contains a powerful scene between Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) and Uncle Lee (Bob Odenkirk) that sets the stage for the show’s final season.

1. “Hacks,” “Hacks (Finale)”
Directed by Lucia Aniello

Who doesn’t like a fairy-tale ending?

Drama series directing

6. “The Gilded Age,” “My Mind Is Made Up”
Directed by Salli Richardson–Whitfield

Soapy, opulently costumed piffle with a beating heart.

5. “Paradise,” “Exodus”
Directed by Hanelle M. Culpepper

In which the show either jumps the shark or executes an intriguing reset.

4. “The Pitt,” “12 P.M.”
Directed by Noah Wyle

RIP Louie.

3. “Task,” “Out Beyond Ideas of Wrongdoing and Rightdoing, There Is a River”
Directed by Salli Richardson–Whitfield

Shootouts don’t come more chaotic — or devastating — than the 20-minute melee that opens this hour.

2. “Slow Horses,” “Scars”
Directed by Saul Metzstein

Could repeat the Emmy in this category just for that last shot of Lamb’s feet.

1. “Pluribus,” “We Is Us”
Directed by Vince Gilligan

The strange, unsettling series premiere was the best hour of television this year.

Limited series directing

4. “Black Rabbit,” “The Black Rabbits”
Directed by Jason Bateman

Do you even remember what happened in this series?

3. “Beef,” “It Will Stay This Way and You Will Obey”
Directed by Jake Schreier

Is it OK to become our parents if it’s the only way to pay the mortgage?

2. “Beef,” “Oh, the Comfort, the Inexpressible Comfort”
Directed by Lee Sung Jin

Basically “The Pitt,” but with an ethical dilemma involving Gatorade.

1. “DTF St. Louis”
Directed by Steven Conrad

Immaculately composed wide shots and an imaginative use of shallow depth of field are used to highlight the suburban weirdness hiding in plain sight.

Comedy series writing

6. “Jury Duty Presents Company Retreat,” “Mergers and Acquisitions”
Written by Anthony King

In which Anthony (Norman, not King, the episode’s writer) becomes the hero of the television season.

5. “The Chair Company,” “Life Goes By Too F— Fast, It Really Does”
Written by Tim Robinson and Zach Kanin

Season premiere goes straight into goblin mode.

4. “Abbott Elementary,” “Team Building”
Written by Quinta Brunson

The only instance where the words “team building” don’t make me shudder.

3. “Hacks,” “Hacks (Finale)”
Written by Lucia Aniello, Paul W. Downs and Jen Statsky

Too melodramatic with the whole Deborah death scare? Have you been watching “Hacks” for the last five seasons?

2. “Widow’s Bay,” “Welcome to Widow’s Bay!”
Written by Katie Dippold

A fine introduction to the cursed New England island as well as the show’s juxtaposition of comedy and horror.

1. “The Comeback,” “Valerie Does It All”
Written by Michael Patrick King and Lisa Kudrow

Can we laugh about AI being the death of us? For one brilliant episode, yes!

Drama series writing

6. “The Diplomat,” “Amagansett”
Written by Peter Ackerman and Debora Cahn

Come for the “West Wing” vibes, stay for the blindside reveal.

5. “The Pitt,” 12 P.M.”
Written by Valerie Chu

You can’t fault a show that hauls in 25 nominations, including two for writing. These are solid episodes, but they pale in comparison with the last four of the season, which offered an intense, emotionally charged run that culminated hours of careful, patient storytelling.

4. “Task,” “A Still Small Voice”
Written by Brad Ingelsby

Forgiveness brings relief.

3. “The Pitt,” “1 P.M.”
Written by Kirsten Pierre-Geyfman and R. Scott Gemmill

See earlier comment about “12 P.M.”

2. “Slow Horses,” “Scars”
Written by Will Smith

The best moment didn’t come from the book.

1. “Pluribus,” “We Is Us”
Written by Vince Gilligan

“Hello, Carol.”

Limited series writing

5. “All Her Fault,” “Episode 8”
Written by Megan Gallagher

If you like deaths in a series finale, this is the show for you!

4. “The Beast in Me,” “Sick Puppy”
Story by Gabe Rotter; teleplay by Gabe Rotter and Daniel Pearle

I was worried for the schnoodle more than any of the characters in the series.

3. “Beef,” “All the Things We’re Never Going to Have”
Written by Lee Sung Jin

Like healthcare, a home, peace of mind, bees that live when you try to save them …

2. “Death by Lightning,”
Written by Mike Makowsky

We could really use a James Garfield right about now.

1. “DTF St. Louis,”
Written by Steven Conrad

“No one’s normal. It just looks that way from across the street.”

Grammy-winning singer Jill Scott brought her “To Whom This May Concern” album — her first in more than a decade — to life at Inglewood’s YouTube Theater last week. Backed by a razor-sharp 11-piece all-male band (including background singers fittingly dubbed “Freeman”), Scott moved effortlessly through a two-hour set filled with songs from the genre-expansive album along with several fan favorites like “He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat)” and “Gettin’ in the Way.”

Enforcing a phone-free policy at her personal request, the North Philadelphia native kept the audience intensely locked in — hanging onto her every word and every seemingly impossible note she struck with ease. Before long, it was easy to forget that we didn’t have our devices. Smiles filled the intimate room. Couples danced together. Strangers sang to each other in joyful unison, while others closed their eyes or held their hands on their chest in complete awe of witnessing a veteran artist in her element.

Jill Scott is on tour for “To Whom This May Concern,” her first album in over a decade.

(Jada Imani M)

In her only interview during the tour thus far, we caught up with Scott backstage to talk why she never performs a song the same way twice, how removing devices makes concerts better and why she thinks “To Whom This May Concern” deserves several accolades.

I’m still coming down from all of the energy from the show. How are you feeling post-show?

I am hot from the inside, and it’s gonna take me hours to calm down. [Laughs]

You’ve always described music as an intimate, two-way conversation between you and the audience. For this tour, you created a strictly phone-free space. Why did you decide to do that and how did this shift the experience for you as a performer?

In a couple of ways. One part is that it’s terrifying because there’s no buffer between me and them, so that’s actually scary, but I embrace it. The other part of it is that it’s wonderful because people initially come in kind of nervous about not having a buffer between myself and the space or themselves and space. Then I watch them gradually release, and I get a kick out of that every night. That’s my favorite part.

I’m surprised to hear that it’s scary for someone like you who’s been performing at such a high level for so many years.

Because I care. It matters to me. I really want them to have a good time. I really want them to release some things, allow themselves to be. If you want to make out, if you want to dance, if you want to cry, if you want to shout, or put up your hands in the air, or sit still, I want them to be able to do that. I think it’s important. That’s the relationship. That’s the real relationship between artist and fans of the music. It’s the connection between the music. I’m here to [be of] service. I’m here to push the ship along, but it’s really their relationship with the music and I’m a conduit. That part is probably one of my other favorites. You have to relinquish your id and allow the thing to be the thing. I think sometimes you can practice the joy and the life out of a thing. We practice a lot, but then we forget everything we practice so that it’s alive. My musicians’ freedom is mandatory. It’s a part of the job. So if they show up and play the exact same thing in the exact same way every night, they’re probably not going to be around very long. I need them to be wide open and to rediscover the music every night from their perspective. It’s their 11 perspectives on stage, and then of course there’s the lighting designer. I need him to be free. Don’t give me the same light at the same time every night. Even front-of-the-house sound engineer as well as our in-ear monitors, everybody is playing a part. “What does she need? Let’s read her. Let’s, you know, pay attention. What does she want?” It’s a lot of fun.

You could see really feel that from you and your entire band.

Tonight was a different audience. They were very attentive. Last night they danced all night long from the very beginning. I couldn’t even see the floor. Tonight they were listening. I know it’s a Wednesday night. Everybody’s got to go to work [the next morning], but they were beautiful. The listening audience is probably my favorite. They get quiet and I’m like “Oh, it’s so scary. Am I doing the right thing?” [Laughs] But that means they’re listening. Who doesn’t want to be heard?

Your son came out with you tonight. How was that experience for you?

It’s beautiful to see. He told me Tierra Whack is not traveling with us because she has a new album out, “Whack’s Museum,” so she’s a little busy. He was like, “Mom, how do you feel about me doing the second verse?” and I was like “Be at sound check tomorrow with a mic in your hand.”

He looked so comfortable on stage.

He does. It’s kind of scary. Super exciting. I don’t know what he’ll want to do, but he’s working our set, so he’s a part of the crew. So after he does his performance, he puts back on his blacks and he does his job, and I love that for him, to have that sense of responsibility. He’s exceeding anybody’s and everybody’s expectations. He’s so good at this. All the clothes you see, he steamed up.

He’s really working his way up.

Yes, you must earn your way.

Your album “To Whom This May Concern” released in February, and it feels like a love letter from your favorite auntie. There’s lessons about learning from your mistakes, honoring your ancestors and loving yourself. Now that your fans have been living with these songs for several months, I’m curious if performing them live has shifted your relationship with them at all?

No. On a great night, I like telling the stories that I’ve read. I like embodying them in front of other people. I like watching them experience them in a new way. I’m a fan of that. It just makes it more and more true. Then I see how many people are singing along and how many people are looking at me, and I’m like “Yesss.” It’s reaching the people and I know it’s going to be different because there’s a different audience every night. So I’m thrilled about the project and how it’s touching people. You hope you don’t work this hard at a thing for it to fall on deaf ears, and I know how microwavable music has been, but I believe the cream rises to the top. It’s been a beautiful 26 years. I look forward to 26 more — in my way.

Your album has been receiving a lot of praise from fans and critics. There’s still a few months before the Grammy nominations are announced, but at this point in your career, how important is that recognition to you? Is it as important as it was when you first started your career?

I think I deserve it. That’s all. [Flashes a smile]

I mean everything about this project from beginning to end is blood, sweat and tears. I stayed up many nights just to write, a hunger in my belly and a savage appetite. And I mean it. Everything is true and I love that for me. That’s the kind of thing that takes time and I think musically, it’s incredible. I think the stories are awesome and intentional, and everything about it, from the planning of it to the marketing, has been from my soul, and I think it deserves several.

I spent my 10-year-old niece’s last week of summer freedom with her, jumping into and swimming in our family’s lake and overall being feral in nature.

She told me after our trip that she was dreading her return to school, communicating her Gen Alpha feelings via a simple broken heart emoji. It felt too soon for me too.

That energy is what inspired this week’s edition of The Wild, our weekly outdoors newsletter. Below I outline three great hikes around Los Angeles that are kid-friendly and great options to decompress after your family’s first week back to school (including if you’re a kid-free household with a tired educator). I hope you find these trails as rejuvenating as I did!

Before we dive in, a few quick reminders:

• You will not have cellphone reception for at least two of these hikes. Download trail maps ahead of time on your hiking navigation app, and also download an offline map of your driving route on your phone’s GPS navigation app.
• Pack extra water, especially if traveling to the San Gabriel Mountains, as mountain weather can be hard to predict, and it can be hotter than you anticipate.
• Take your time on twisting mountain roads; use paved vehicle turnouts to let faster traffic pass you, and watch out for cyclists; turn on your headlights when entering Angeles National Forest, regardless of the time of day.
• Let someone know where you’re going, including what time you’ll be back. Place a completed version of this form (or something like it) on your vehicle’s dashboard — just in case!
• And practice Leave No Trace principles, including not feeding any wildlife, picking up after yourself (including toilet paper) and not playing any loud music, as it bothers grumpy hikers like me and also the wildlife (the latter being more important than the former).

OK, now that you’re prepared to be safe and good to nature, let’s talk about those hikes!

The view of the L.A. area and our local mountains from Bee Rock in Griffith Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

1. Old Zoo — Bee Rock Loop (Griffith Park Explorer Segment 7)

Distance: 5 miles
Elevation gained: 930 feet
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed: Yes
Nearest to: Atwater Village
Accessible alternative: Rio de Los Angeles Park loop

The Old Zoo — Bee Rock Loop is a 5-mile hike that takes you up to Bee Rock, an epic lookout point in Griffith Park. The route is part of Friends of Griffith Park’s Griffith Park Explorer, which organizes official trails into 15 hikeable segments (rather than you getting lost or ending your hike far from where you parked — not that I’ve ever experienced that).

I have passed Bee Rock at least a dozen times and each time told my hiking companion, “I really need to hike up there sometime!” I finally did last week, and I am already itching to return.

After leaving, I wanted to know how this local monolith got its name. I went to The Times’ archives, where I couldn’t find a precise answer.

Bee Rock as seen from the Bill Eckert Trail in Griffith Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

“Bee Rock acquired its name from the millions of bees which store their honey in its tiny caves which honeycomb it,” a March 1940 Times story read. Seems reasonable.

Retired ranger Bill Eckert told hikers per a 1985 story that Bee Rock got its name “because bees were attracted to the sweets at the old zoo’s refreshment stands and made their homes in the rock’s crevices.”

Eckert has a trail named after him, so I did feel inclined to believe his story.

As I searched for a clear answer, I felt better when I discovered that even experts like Gerry Hans, president of nonprofit Friends of Griffith Park, aren’t sure.

“There are theories and legends,” Hans wrote in a blog post in 2022. “The first is that the outcrop simply looks like a beehive. Another tale describes maintenance workers at the Old Zoo dumping spoiled soda syrup off the cliff, which lured swarms of bees. A third theory suggests that bees naturally take up residence in the holes and pocks on the cliff side overlooking Spring Canyon.”

Hans wrote that he had seen bees in the rock’s small caverns, but to do so, you must have good binoculars.

Armed with those facts and maybe some binocs, you can head out on the trail.

To begin your hike, you’ll park at Merry Go Round Lot One and head to the Lower Beacon Trail just past the southeast corner of the parking lot. Take good care in selecting where to start, as there are about five different paths you could take here.

You will head west on the Lower Beacon Trail, briefly walk southwest along the Fern Canyon Trail before taking the Upper Zoo Trail for much of the way. You’ll reach the Bee Rock Trail at 1 mile into your hike.

Views from the Bee Rock Trail around golden hour in Griffith Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You will follow the Bee Rock trail northwest for a short jag before you come to what might feel like a dead end.

The Bee Rock Trail narrows and heads south. You will take a few switchbacks up, wondering how you suddenly became surrounded in tree canopy. Hopefully the sky is helicopter-free and you can hear the local chatter of acorn woodpeckers and California scrub jays.

You’ll arrive at a chain-link fence where you can take a narrow dirt path to the rocky outcropping atop Bee Rock. If hiking with children, it’d be good for the adults to go first, as there are a few spots where the fence has been cut, and the allure of venturing farther than one should out onto boulders is high.

The view is stunning, and on a Thursday evening, I had it all to myself as the sun lowered near the horizon. It was a clear day, and I could see a large swath of Glendale and nearby Mt. Thom and Tongva Peak in the Verdugos and farther away Josephine Peak, Strawberry Peak and several other summits in the San Gabriel Mountains.

From here, you can turn around and head back to your car, especially if the smaller hikers among you are tired, or continue onward to complete the loop. The rest of the trail is not challenging, as you’re either walking on a flat trail or headed downhill. And it’s generally not crowded. If you’re hiking with a teenager, the rest of the trail offers a quiet few miles to talk together about the school day.

One of the pools along Soldier Creek.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

2. Lewis Falls

Distance: About a mile out and back
Elevation gained: About 300 feet
Difficulty: Easy, but requires proper footwear
Dogs allowed: Yes
Nearest to: North of Azusa
Accessible alternative: West Fork National Scenic Bikeway

The 1-mile out-and-back trek to Lewis Falls offers hikers a gorgeous journey along Soldier Creek, lined with California bay laurels, oak trees and hulking old conifers. The trail runs mostly parallel to the creek until you reach its end, where you must cross the creek, rocks and logs to reach Lewis Falls.

You will start by finding parking, its own adventure, as there is no lot. Rather, you will need to find a spot along Highway 39 near the trailhead. I didn’t have any trouble on a weekday, but on a weekend, it might be more challenging. That is essentially the only real downside of this trail.

A large old conifer provides shade along Soldier Creek.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You will hike slightly northeast for about half a mile before reaching the falls. Along the way, you’ll have ample opportunity to take a dip in Soldier Creek, as multiple pools remain, even this late in our summer.

If you find yourself saying, “Wow, this trail is really steep,” you are likely on the wrong path. You will spot multiple spur trails, likely created by either an impatient human or dexterous deer. You can identify them mostly by looking them over and realizing they offer a quicker, more dangerous option than the trail before you.

Soldier Creek features several shorter waterfalls as well as nearby Lewis Falls.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Although it is generally called Lewis Falls by hikers, the cascade historically had a different name.

“Longtime San Gabriel Mountains visitors and old maps refer to Soldier Creek Falls as ‘Lewis Falls,’ in honor of forest ranger Anselmo Lewis, who once patrolled these parts,” former Times outdoors writer John McKinney wrote in a 1998 article.

Although this trail is short, it does require a bit of technical expertise but nothing too tricky. You will find yourself navigating boulders and, at one point, using a root to step down onto the rest of the trail. It requires just a little patience and looking ahead of yourself to determine the safest route.

I was greeted by small blue dragonflies as I hiked along the creek. Instead of racing back to my car, I lay down on a log and listened to the sounds of rushing water and chirping birds. Soldier Creek provides any hiker willing to slow down with an opportunity to reset, regardless of whether you have homework waiting for you at home.

And if you aren’t ready to go home, consider heading five miles north on Highway 39 to the Crystal Lake Recreation Area, where further adventure — and a snack at the Crystal Lake Cafe — awaits.

Once you reach Mt. Hillyer, you’ll be greeted by large rocks that are fun to scramble along.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

3. Mt. Hillyer via Silver Moccasin Trail

Distance: 5.8-mile lollipop loop
Elevation gained: About 1,100 feet
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed: Yes
Nearest to: About 45 minutes northeast of La Cañada Flintridge
Accessible alternative: Paved paths through Chilao Campground

This 6-mile jaunt along the Silver Moccasin Trail, which is just over 50 miles when fully open, takes you through high desert and pine trees.

Shaped like a lollipop, the trailhead sits about half a mile northwest of the Chilao Visitor Center, which is typically open on the weekend. You will head north for a mile before turning left (or west) off the Silver Moccasin Trail.

You will follow Horse Flats Road to the Rosenita Saddle trailhead, where you’ll take the trail southwest to Mt. Hillyer.

Views of the San Gabriel Mountains from the trail to Mt. Hillyer.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Keep an eye out for Jeffrey pines, which will have deeply furrowed bark and round prickly cones. Their bark smells like butterscotch or vanilla, which I always love pausing to sniff.

The trail also features Coulter pines that produce massive cones nicknamed widowmakers because of their size. The Coulter pine cones can weigh up to 11 pounds. If you’re in the area when it’s windy, please watch your head.

To reach Mt. Hillyer, you’ll follow a short spur trail about half a mile southwest from the Rosenita Saddle trailhead. Mt. Hillyer features several large boulders, perfect for kids to scramble and play on. It’ll also offer you sweeping views of the San Gabriel Mountains.

A hiker takes the path to Mt. Hillyer in the winter in Angeles National Forest.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You can make the trail a loop by continuing south until it jags back east, meeting back up with the paved road you previously took.

And for the ultimate weekend adventure, grab a first-come, first-served campsite at Chilao Campground, and then you can hike and check out the Chilao Visitor Center, which is open from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday through November. As a bonus, there’s a short, flat nature trail at the east end of the nature center parking lot where you can typically find massive Coulter pine cones to inspect. A seasonal creek flows through this area too.

Regardless of which option you choose, I hope you make great memories in our local public lands.

3 things to do

The Milky Way is seen in the western night sky near Mt. Pinos in the Los Padres National Forest.

(Raul Roa / Los Angeles Times)

1. Ponder astrophysics in Pasadena
Caltech will host a stargazing lecture from 8 to 10 p.m. Friday at the Cahill Center for Astronomy and Astrophysics (1216 E. California Blvd. in Pasadena). Philosophy professor Charles “Chip” T. Sebens will lecture about basic questions that remain regarding atoms. A Q&A and then guided stargazing will follow. The event is free, and no registration is required. Learn more at events.caltech.edu.

2. Improve insect habitat near Altadena
The Invertebrate Club of Southern California needs volunteers from 8 to 11:30 a.m. Saturday at Eaton Canyon. Participants will yank invasive plants to help restore the canyon. Volunteers must be 14 years or older. Registration is required. Sign up at signupgenius.com.

3. Peek at sandpipers in Pacoima
The San Fernando Valley Audubon Society will host a bird walk from 8 to 10 a.m. Saturday. Guests will meet at the ranger station (10965 Dronfield Ave. in Pacoima) before heading out on a 1- to 3-mile walk through riparian areas, grassy lawns and unique rock formations. Birders can expect to see 30 to 50 species. Learn more at the group’s Instagram page.

The must-read

Johnson’s Beach, along the Russian River, is one of the most popular spots along the lower Russian River.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The lower Russian River and the small communities along the watercourse in Sonoma County offer visitors every kind of adventure, whether you want to stay in a tent and simply float or you want a high-end outdoors experience. That’s what I gleaned from reading Times staff writer Christopher Reynolds’ article about how to get the most out of a visit to the Northern California sylvan paradise. “On summer weekends, thousands show up in Guerneville with kayaks, canoes, inner tubes — just about anything that will float, preferably with a cooler attached,” Reynolds writes. “Then they spend hours gliding downstream past scenery that might as well be a Northern California highlight reel: vineyards, redwood forests and eventually a beach scene full of driftwood and sea stacks.”

After finishing the piece, I immediately searched online for how far away L.A. is from Guerneville. It’s a long drive, but my colleague makes it sure feel worth it.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Everyone should feel safe to recreate and work in outdoor spaces. To better ensure Deaf and Hard of Hearing folks feel supported wherever you recreate or volunteer, consider taking CorpsTHAT‘s upcoming “ASL for the Outdoors” virtual classes. Classes run from September to November and range from beginner to advanced. The fee is $250 per student. You can learn more, including how to register, at the organization’s website.

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass’ terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad reelection campaign just got worse after Wednesday night’s debate in Sherman Oaks.

Bass came in as the clear favorite after toying with City Councilmember Nithya Raman the two times they faced off on the debate stage during the primary, as easily as the Dodgers sweeping the Angels.

Her Honor just needed to do more of the same: hail her own accomplishments, deliver well-timed zingers and keep as cool as a cucumber while baiting Raman into self-immolation.

Bass did none of that, while Raman stepped up the way she needed to.

This time, the challenger offered concrete answers instead of word salads. She mostly stuck to the allotted time limits while Bass repeatedly whined that she wasn’t given enough time. Raman effortlessly turned the mayor’s rhetorical traps around like Bugs Bunny twisting Elmer Fudd’s rifle right in his face.

Take the moment when Bass pointed out that Raman had missed the second-most votes among councilmembers during her six years in office. Raman responded that she missed many meetings while representing the city on the South Coast Air Quality Management District and other governmental boards. Bass’ clap-back — that Raman’s colleagues also had other official responsibilities yet “they find their way to work” — drew “ooohs” from the audience at the debate, put on by the Sherman Oaks Homeowners Assn.

If this were still the primary, Raman would have flustered her way to a non-answer. This time, she calmly said that she must not be such a bad councilmember, since Bass had appointed her to those boards.

“Well, we really need to look at that,” Bass stammered before asking Raman if she was “getting ready to resign” from them.

“I’m sorry?” Raman asked off mic as Bass challenged her to step down from all her boards. “No,” Raman then said firmly before shrugging and letting the moderator move on to the next question.

The moment was par for the mayor’s night.

Again and again, Bass went after Raman in the pettiest, most personal ways. She kept mocking the MIT graduate as a clueless egghead with no idea what’s going on in the city, stating twice that Raman governed as if L.A. were “an academic institution” — a line that sounded like a MAGA talking point and that was originally trotted out by Councilmember Imelda Padilla.

Bass tried to paint Raman as a member of an ineffectual city establishment, not a newcomer, which fell flat, considering that Bass has held one elected office or another for 22 years while Raman has been in politics only since 2020.

Bass frequently resorted to her trademark nervous laughter and repeated obviously crafted lines with all the enthusiasm of someone gulping down cod oil. Her furrowed brow and exasperated looks, which she had effectively used in previous debates, made her come off as embittered, tired and unable to defend the indefensible mess that has been her first term.

At one point, the mayor even compared street taco vendors to homeless encampments, with both supposedly disrupting the fabric of a well-run city.

Somewhere, Jonathan Gold is shaking his head in disgust.

“You have lots of plans and lots of ideas but have done very little,” Bass told Raman at another point.

And what have you done, Mayor Bass?

L.A. Mayor Karen Bass speaks with a woman after the end of a mayoral debate against challenger Nithya Raman in Sherman Oaks.

(David Butow/For the Times)

I’ve really tried to like Bass. Her trajectory from South L.A. activist to nonprofit founder to Sacramento, Washington and City Hall is impressive and important. Yet when Angelenos needed her to rise and succeed as their city faced one crisis after another during these past four years, Bass stumbled and stumbled again. Her flop of a debate performance left her sounding like someone with no vision or kindness — career suicide for someone who has made her reputation on both traits.

At this point, the architects of Bass’ campaign need to burn sage to drive out bad spirits or just bow out altogether. Any time something could go wrong, it has.

Bass placed first in the primary with 34% of the vote — an abysmal number for a Democratic incumbent in a deep blue city. Her campaign’s cynical gambit to boost washed-up reality TV star Spencer Pratt into the general election, because he’d be an easier opponent than Raman, failed. The Lineage fire in Boyle Heights brought back memories of the deadly Palisades inferno, angering a voting bloc Bass desperately needs — Latinos.

Then came news this week that a poll the Bass campaign had promoted, claiming that she held a commanding lead over Raman, turned out to be fake. Bass came out looking like someone incapable of overseeing paint dry, let alone running America’s second-largest city.

And now, this debate.

The audience, which was heavily pro-Bass, eventually started applauding more and more of Raman’s responses. Bass, desperate to trip up her opponent, talked over her so much that the councilmember responded with the line of the night and possibly the race:

“You gotta let me answer, Mayor Bass. This is my time.”

Raman still faces an uphill battle. Nearly all of the city’s power structure — elected officials, labor unions, the Los Angeles Police Protective League, business owners and even the three other democratic socialist councilmembers — has endorsed Bass. The mayor has outpaced Raman in fundraising. Raman has to win over voters who supported Pratt’s conservative stances while not alienating her progressive base. She did herself no favors with the Democratic Socialist of America’s local chapter, which didn’t endorse her in the primary and will decide next week whether to endorse her in the general election, by stating that the city needs to maintain the current size of its police force.

But in Wednesday night’s debate, she offered voters a distinct choice between how she would run L.A. and how Bass has.

Councilmember Nithya Raman speaks with staff and supporters after a mayoral debate with incumbent Karen Bass in Sherman Oaks.

(David Butow/For the Times)

All the mayor could sputter in her closing remarks was that Raman “does not have the support of [any] of her colleagues” — yet another line she had repeated ad nauseum.

When it was her turn, Raman said she keeps hearing from residents “that this city feels rudderless.”

“I have news for you, Angelenos. You’re right,” she continued. “No one is in charge right now.”

Then, instead of launching another fusillade against Bass, Raman went for something few people associate with L.A. nowadays:

Hope.

“You have every right to expect more from your city,” Raman proclaimed, her voice strong and clear. She urged Angelenos to “raise our expectations” of what’s possible and strive for a city that’s “affordable, functional, safe, joyful, ambitious.”

A few months ago, that would have sounded like the delusional ramblings of someone with no chance at winning. After tonight’s debate, Raman seems like L.A.’s final, best chance.

We’d have to say the most challenging thing about us writing “The Comeback” was coming back from the dead after the show was canceled following its first season way back in 2005. Talk about a hiatus.

There are always nerves when you return to do the next season of a series, but when the hiatus lasts 10 years between Season 1 and Season 2, and then another 10 years between the second and this third, final season — that’s a whole other level of “When we last left Valerie …”

But, gratefully, when we get together to write Valerie Cherish and her world again, it’s somehow more exciting than daunting. The nerves fade and the fun starts. The fun along with — of course — the doubts, the surprises, the deadlines, the page count. The comedy and the tragedy (see page count again). We improvise dialogue so much in the writing room that our notes tend to reach into hundreds and hundreds of pages — per episode. That’s a joke … kind of. And on top of all that, this season and this script that we’ve been nominated for writing had a particular challenge.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Between the second and third seasons, one of our most beloved cast members, Robert Michael Morris, died. Robert played the beloved, significant, audience-favorite character Mickey, Valerie’s hairdresser. At first, we couldn’t imagine doing a season without this important person and character … but when we decided to go forward with this season’s story, which deals with the TV industry’s fear of an AI takeover, we knew we had to find a way to deal with Mickey’s absence. We decided that since Robert Michael’s death happened during that second 10-year hiatus, we had to find a way to incorporate that history into the Valerie and Mickey storyline. And because it had never been dealt with by the show on camera, we decided that maybe Valerie hadn’t fully dealt with it as well. That way, the viewers wouldn’t feel like they missed a significant turn in Valerie’s journey. We decided if we could create a story where Valerie hadn’t really grieved Mickey’s passing and had to face it in the episode, then she and (hopefully) the viewers could share the sadness and the love together. And together, they could find a way to accept and release him with respect for the actor and the character and with a bit of triumph for all he meant to Valerie and to all of us on our series.

So, we created a character named Tommy Tomlin — another hairdresser and longtime friend of Mickey’s who Valerie hires to step in and take Mickey’s place and be the hairdresser on her new AI-written sitcom. Well, Tommy can do her hair but, by design, can never replace Mickey, and that conflict between Valerie and Tommy underlines her loss and her denial of Mickey’s passing. Tommy’s presence helps push Valerie to acknowledge Mickey’s absence and moves her to gently face it, finally scatter his ashes and let him go.

It was an emotional story to write and even more emotional to film. Lisa was standing on top of a Warner Bros. soundstage ready to open the box of prop ashes, to allow them to float over “Old Hollywood,” a lure that Mickey loved. But we were filming this scene at sunset, and what comes with the light at that picturesque time of day in Burbank is a strong wind from the surrounding mountains that gets trapped in an impromptu kind of wind tunnel between the soundstages. If Lisa opened the box at the wrong moment, the ashes would fly right back into her face — and in this moment, we were not going for comedy.

I was directing from down on the ground, and I looked up to the heavens and said to Robert Michael Morris, “This is your big moment — please quiet the wind so it can be beautiful and touching and an appropriate goodbye to you and your character.” And — I swear — the wind died down. I called “Action!” and on top of the soundstage, Lisa said her goodbye as Valerie, opened the box and the ashes lifted out, almost magically, and floated out and away into the sunset over the Warner Bros. Studio back lot — just as we imagined in the writing room all those months earlier.