Oppenheimer couldnât be more of an Oscars lock
A three-hour epic about the development of the A-bomb might not have been an automatic awards-season pick (especially after spending the summer as the afterthought in the Barbenheimer hashtag) but ⦠well, itâs become the bulldozer of 2024. Despite the billions of dollars his films have made, the stars have never quite lined up for Christopher Nolan at awards time, but now they are with a vengeance. Nolan strode to the stage with well-earned authority to pick up his best director and best picture Baftas; itâs the stoniest and coldest of stone cold certainties heâll be doing it again on Oscar night.
Barbie is on the shelf
Someone had to get hammered, and that someone was Barbie, which went home with nothing, despite sending out the big guns. Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling, Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach all turned up, but had to sit there clapping politely time after time as others went up to receive their golden masks. Bafta sentiment works a little differently to Hollywoodâs, so itâs not a given that the same wipeout will happen at the Oscars, but the omens look pretty horrible. Still, theyâve all got those piles of cash to roll around on, so itâs not such a hard luck story.
Baftaâs producers have learned their lesson
No one would ever call the Bafta show must-see TV, and that two-hour time gap that everyone knows the results before the as-live broadcast is still baffling, but this yearâs back to basics approach paid dividends on some level. As if he understood that live-joke telling was an art too tricky to master overnight, host David Tennant coasted through on effervescence and charm and didnât try anything too elaborate, the music on show was tried and tested classics, and last yearsâ sit-down interviews with people who didnât have anything to say were thankfully dispensed with.
The best actor award suddenly looks a lot slippier
The Baftas were always going to be extra-swayed by Cillian Murphyâs lilt and cheekbones and long-running association with British cinema. But that did not mean his best actor award was a cert: The Holdoversâ Paul Giamatti had momentum, as well as the Guilt Factor (just like the Oscars, the Baftas snubbed him for Sideways 20 years ago). Will Murphyâs win tip this Oscar a little closer to the Oppenheimer haul, or does it nicely mesh with Giamattiâs Holdovers characterâs sadsack narrative to propel him towards the gong? Weâll know in three weeks. Gentle respect, too, to Bradley Cooper for turning up to all these things despite clearly not having a chance.
DaâVine Joy Randolph is the definition of a pro
Her performance in The Holdovers is so immaculate that Randolph has won every single supporting actress award going â tonight even defeating homegrown stars Rosamund Pike and Emily Blunt. But her charm and polish on the podium is sufficiently dazzling that she still manages to make every speech feel fresh, every appearance endearing. When she cried tonight, it was genuine â amazingly.
Every awards ceremony needs James Wilson
When you see the producer of The Zone of Interest approaching the podium, you know a political statement is incoming. Which is good, because it might feel unpalatable if nobody flagged the parallels between current events and the mass killings that hover on the margins of many of this yearâs big period movies. At the London critics circle awards earlier this month, Wilsonâs equation of the Holocaust and the current conflict in the Middle East drew a few muted gasps after he mentioned the deaths in Israel before those in Gaza. At the Baftas, when he namechecked the killings in âGaza or Yemen ⦠Mariupol or Israelâ there was unanimous applause.
Michael J Fox means a lot
The biggest applause of the night went to the star of Back to the Future â and Bafta-nominated documentary Still â for his brief appearance presenting the best picture award. Foxâs appearance had not been billed beforehand, and there was an audible gasp of excitement in the room as he entered. Fox hasnât been to the Baftas for more than 30 years: few could imagine a lovelier homecoming king.
Saltburn keeps on giving â but not taking awards
If there was an award for a movie that has most penetrated the public consciousness, Saltburn would surely be in a dead heat with Barbie. But as weâve seen already, the Saltburn brainworm is just not converting into copious awards love. Not that itâs not trying: itâs given Sophie Ellis Bextor a major new platform (and a properly great live performance in the TV show), made a genuine movie star out of Barry Keoghan, and social media canât shut up about bathwater, grave-humping and all that. But its popularity doesnât seem to have cut through with industry voters. Oscar-winning writer director Emerald Fennell is right to ask: what more can she do?
Hugh Grant has something others do not
How else to explain how he can bring the house down with that brief Wonka-inspired ditty: âOompa Loompa, doopety-dee, now the best director categor-ee / Oompa Loompa doompety-dong, most of these films were frankly too long / Oompa Loompa doompety-dah, but for some reason, the nominees are â¦â By the late stage in an awards ceremony, it seems everyone is eager for some salt in the mix, even if itâs half-arsed and not, on paper, especially funny.
If the clapometer counted, All of Us Strangers would have won big
The Bafta show audience isnât shy of a bit of self-love, but the cheering of the groundlings doesnât always translate into awards. (American Fictionâs Cord Jefferson, for example, didnât exactly ascend to the stage on a tide of audience applause.) If Bafta had a clapometer that translated into wins, then All of Us Strangers would surely have cleaned up. From the moment that Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott were announced as presenting the best animated film, the roars never let up. Bafta surely realises now it shot itself in the foot by excluding Scott from its best actor lineup. Letâs hope it doesnât let that happen again.
No âin memoriamâ montage is complete without a controversy
This year, itâs the omission of Matthew Perry, which is obviously because heâs TV not film, and the telly Baftas are in May. This yearâs recap was fine other than that, with Hannah Waddingham warbling out a tune everyone can hum and lots of black-and-white. But it did make you think: why on earth wasnât Glenda Jackson nominated for The Great Escaper? And Michael Caine, come to that.
Ken Loach – the interloper at the feast
Itâs always a treat to see Ken Loach, diehard socialist and unrepentant campaigner, togged up in dickie bow and dinner jacket, smiling grimly from the sidelines at Baftaâs fixed-grin riot of glitziness; heâs like the Banquoâs ghost of the British film industry. (Tennant even tried a Ken/Barbie joke, which went down predictably badly.) Loach was there in support of his latest, and most likely last, feature The Old Oak, which was up for outstanding British film; in all honesty it just didnât have the momentum to win, unlike in 2017 when I, Daniel Blake charged in.
Characteristically, perhaps, Loach and his team held up a âGaza: stop the massacreâ poster on the red carpet, one of the eveningâs few political interventions. But Samantha Morton, receiving the Bafta fellowship, was there to remind everyone of Loachâs centrality to what British film has achieved over the last half century, directly namechecking Loachâs 1969 classic Kes as her inspiration. Not everyone is going to agree with Loachâs politics, but we can all agree that Kes was, and is, a masterpiece.
Killers of the Flower Moon got the memo
One team noticeably absent from the Baftas this year â Thelma Schoonmaker aside â were the Killers of the Flower Moon crew, despite a whopping nine nominations. Perhaps they opted to consolidate their campaign stateside, or perhaps the snub for Lily Gladstone at the shortlisting stage was just too much to stand. Regardless, it seems a move both canny and a bit sad.
