The Berlinale, the BAFTAs and the cinema under pressure

Translated by Mariateresa Tauro

As time passes, one gets the impression of entering a darker area, where material reality continues to produce wars and divisions, but the obsession of the powerful often focuses on another fear, that of ending up in an archive and appearing in a file. Meanwhile, however, the wars continue despite everything. In this gap between material reality and reputational power, cinema should not remain merely a mirror of the world.

This is why, in recent weeks, two very different institutions, the Berlinale and the BAFTAs, have been the scene of two “incidents” that are dissimilar in fact but similar in effect: exposing the fragility of cultural institutions when the public arena demands not only films and awards, but also posture, language and crisis management.

The Berlinale is one of the three major internationally recognised film festivals, alongside Venice and Cannes. It was founded and is described as a space for artistic exploration and a place for political discourse and agitation. The BAFTAs, on the other hand, are an awards ceremony: an academy that brings together a professional community, calls on them to vote and transforms the verdict into a ritual, with all the institutional weight of an arts charity that claims a cultural mission beyond the awards night.

Yet, precisely because festivals and awards operate on different levels of the same system of legitimisation, it takes very little for them to become the news instead of the works themselves.

It is within this context that the two events take place. On the one hand, the controversy that erupted at the 2026 Berlinale surrounding Wim Wenders, the president of the jury. During a press conference, when asked about Gaza and the role of cultural institutions, Wenders argued that filmmakers ‘should stay out of politics’ and that art should be a counterbalance to politics, not an extension of it. The phrase, even more than the content, acted as a trigger: not because it indicates a “right” or “wrong” position in the abstract, but because, as just mentioned, we are in the political festival par excellence.

Arundhati Roy, who was also expected to attend an event related to her work, announced her withdrawal from the event in protest, turning the clash into an international issue. This was followed by an open letter signed by dozens of professionals, accusing the Berlinale of ‘institutional silence’ on Gaza and calling for an explicit stance on artists' rights and the ethical framework of the event. The festival thus ended at its most difficult point: not in terms of geopolitical merit, but in terms of managing its public status. So much so that, on the final evening, Wenders returned to the subject with a prepared speech, attempting to reformulate the relationship between cinema, responsibility and conflict.

A few days later, on the other side of the Channel, an award ceremony revealed a similar problem: not the difficulty of “speaking”, but the inability to “filter”. At the BAFTAs ceremony, while Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo were on stage to present an award, a n-word was heard from the audience, later attributed to an involuntary tic by John Davidson, an activist with Tourette's syndrome who was invited as a guest in connection with a film inspired by his experience. The immediate impact on stage, the chill in the air and the need to continue inevitably left their mark outside the theatre: public solidarity with the two actors, apologies, heated discussions about disability, language and editorial responsibility.

The point that sparked controversy was not only the incident itself, but the fact that the BBC broadcast the scene unedited despite the fact that it was a delayed broadcast. The broadcaster referred to it as a serious error, announced an internal investigation, and removed or modified the streaming availability; BAFTA issued a formal apology.

At the same time, Davidson publicly expressed remorse and reiterated the involuntary nature of Tourette's tics, bringing the most uncomfortable tension back to the forefront: protecting those affected by the offence and, at the same time, not automatically blaming a neurological condition.

Festivals and awards are no longer just cultural machines: they are reputational infrastructures exposed in real time, where outrage functions as instant currency and legitimisation as a fragile protocol. When cinema claims to speak to the world, the world claims to judge cinema before even watching it.

But let's be honest, does it make sense to condemn someone for a debilitating psychological condition and accept a speech that was clearly written at a desk to “get out of an awkward situation”? I leave the conclusions to you.

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