There is something inevitably dramatic about BAFTA night, as if British cinema assumes, for a few hours, the role of moral arbiter of a season already arriving at its exhausted end. It is not just another awards ceremony. It is the last moment when a narrative can shift without seeming artificial, the final space where European taste, more austere and attentive to tradition and language, can confront Hollywood’s industrial enthusiasm. In many years, this is where the Oscar race stops being speculation and begins to take on the contours of destiny.

The 2026 edition arrives particularly open, with no inevitable winner dominating every front. Films such as One Battle After Another and Sinners enter strong, with impressive numbers and a consistent presence throughout the season, but there is also the “home contender” factor, an element BAFTA rarely ignores. Hamnet, with its literary weight, classical sensibility, and deeply British identity, emerges as exactly the kind of work that can gain strength where the American Academy hesitates. When that happens, it is not merely a local victory. It signals that another interpretation of the season is possible.

In the acting categories, the impact can be even more decisive. Recent history shows that BAFTA does not merely anticipate winners; it legitimizes performances that might otherwise seem too sophisticated or too restrained for American tastes. That was the case with Anthony Hopkins for The Father, whose British victory initially appeared to be a gesture of national reverence but ultimately became one of the modern Oscars’ biggest surprises, overtaking the emotional narrative surrounding Chadwick Boseman. It was also true for Olivia Colman, who moved from an apparently secondary position to defeat Glenn Close after winning at home, and for Emma Stone, whose BAFTA triumph cemented the perception that her performance was not merely eccentric but unavoidable. And, of course, in 2025, Mikey Madison overturned Demi Moore’s frontrunner status by winning both in London and Los Angeles for Anora.

There is also a symbolic dimension that makes this ceremony particularly powerful. BAFTA often rewards not only technical or artistic excellence but the idea of cinema it wishes to affirm at a given historical moment. In more conservative periods, it favors classical storytelling and restrained performances. In more unsettled times, it opens space for formally daring works and morally ambiguous characters. Watching who wins here, therefore, means observing which vision of cinema feels most necessary right now.

This season reveals a tension between grandeur and intimacy, between epic-scale works and dramas centered on human interiority. If BAFTA chooses spectacle, it will reinforce the industry logic that tends to dominate the Oscars. If it opts for literary, introspective drama, it may pull the conversation back toward sensibility and authorship, reminding us that cinema can still be a space for reflection rather than pure impact.

For Brazil, the night carries a quieter but no less revealing significance. The Secret Agent, by Kleber Mendonça Filho, arrives visible enough to remain part of the international conversation, yet without the aura of inevitability that typically surrounds winners at this stage. The nominations keep the country present, but not central. In awards-season terms, that distinction is decisive. Presence without momentum usually signals respect rather than real competitive strength.

For that reason, more than predicting winners, tonight serves to measure the emotional climate of the race. Whoever walks onstage does not carry only a trophy. They carry a narrative ready to cross the Atlantic and settle into the imagination of American voters in the final weeks. Sometimes that narrative arrives with such legitimacy that the Oscars merely confirm it. At other times, it creates a tension that turns the final vote into an act of choosing between two worldviews.

If there is one certainty, it is that BAFTA is rarely irrelevant. It may not decide everything, but it almost always redefines what is at stake. And in a season marked by uncertainty and fragile balances, that redefinition may be exactly what separates a comfortable frontrunner from an unexpected winner. Tonight, more than celebrating British cinema, the awards once again perform their most fascinating function: reminding us that, even at the final stage, the story can still change course.