Why Nicola Coughlan Deserves an Emmy for “Bridgerton” Season 3

Anyone who’s seen Nicola Coughlan in “Derry Girls” knows that she’s a brilliant comedic performer. As nerdy teenager Clare Devlin, Coughlan made teenage anxiety immensely physical and palpable — firing her dialogue with all the air in her lungs, walking with so much propulsive energy she was nearly tripping over herself.

In “Bridgerton” Season 3, Coughlan similarly portrays adolescent turmoil, but through subtler and more internal means. As wallflower Penelope Featherington, who harbors a double identity as the controversial Lady Whistledown, Coughlan was tasked not just with making the ton’s resident introvert a mesmerizing lead but also with bringing humanity to her character’s morally ambiguous actions.

Coughlan nails it: the hit Netflix show’s third season sees Penelope fully step into the spotlight as a romantic interest. In Penelope’s evolution, Coughlan captures how a young woman’s coming of age is defined as much by her own personal choices as it is by her struggle against society’s expectations for women. And Coughlan makes a case for herself as an excellent dramatic lead, the kind that Emmy voters should pay attention to.

That’s because Coughlan has to reconcile two conflicting aspects of her character. One is the standard teenage heroine. Penelope previously existed mainly on the sidelines, a spinster-to-be. Her transformation into the center of attention is literally represented through a glow-up: there’s a scene in which she enters a ballroom sporting a completely different fashion and hair and makeup. Coughlan’s tentative delight as she notices the amount of eyes on her instantly makes viewers root for her. She establishes Penelope as our favorite underdog.

This idea is complicated by the fact that Penelope wields actual power as the anonymous writer behind an all-knowing gossip rag that can completely make or break someone’s reputation. The journey that Penelope undergoes in becoming the main character is something Lady Whistledown already pulled off; Penelope has been the main character all along; it’s just that now, she must own up to that status — including the hurt she caused to attain it.

It’s to Coughlan’s credit that these emotional threads stay together. She grounds Penelope’s characterization in a fundamental sincerity. Penelope’s flaws are humanizing, never outright villainous, and neither are they completely ignored. She’s an intelligent young person, but she’s not immune to her age. Coughlan realistically captures what it’s like to be in the throes of adolescence, fumbling toward the person you want to be.

Take, for instance, the scenes when Penelope tries to flirt with a gentlemen for the first time. Her awkward attempts at conversation are incredibly entertaining and charming as Coughlan leans into the cringe. For all of Penelope’s brilliance as a proto-journalist, she can’t help her social inexperience.

Similarly, Coughlan taps into a universal feeling when Penelope asks her childhood friend and longtime crush, Colin Bridgerton, to kiss her. Having just run away from a ballroom where everyone had been talking judgmentally about her, Penelope tells Colin, “It would not have to mean anything.” Simply, “I do not wish to die without ever having been kissed.” Coughlan brings heart and sensitivity to Penelope’s longing for romantic validation.

And in Penelope’s pragmatic pursuit of a husband, Coughlan translates her character’s internal struggle. Penelope must secure a marriage, but she’s cautious about her romantic decisions, as she prizes her independence and, of course, her work. A shot of Coughlan’s serving face in the midst of scribbling is certainly memeable, but Coughlan does make the viewer understand the gravity of Penelope’s intellectual endeavors and her hesitation at giving them up for love.

The night before Penelope’s wedding to Colin, she tells dressmaker Madame Delacroix that “I felt like I was losing a part of myself” when she attempted to stop writing. It is her ultimate form of self-expression.

That’s where Lady Whistledown originated from: a young woman’s desire for agency. If Penelope’s approach was messy and slightly misguided, Coughlan’s portrayal indicates that her actions as Lady Whistledown sometimes reflected the missteps of youth. “You were a girl who did not know her own power,” Madame Delacroix also reminds her.

And so Coughlan imbues Penelope’s acceptance of accountability with the same earnestness that she treats her character’s first romantic encounters. Penelope decides that going forward, she’ll punch up rather than punch down. As she states at one point, “I should’ve been using the column to give a voice to the other voiceless.” Despite the clichéd declaration, Coughlan makes Penelope’s good intentions and activist dedication believable.

The night before her wedding, Madame Delacroix tells Penelope that “there’s no such thing as true love without first embracing your true self.” By the end, we see Penelope accept who she is, wallflower and alter ego combined. It’s because of Coughlan’s nuanced performance that this merging of selves lands so seamlessly.

See Variety’s Emmy Predictions:

Awards Circuit: Emmys