Life at the Baftas 2024: An evening of cinematic revelry, wine and tequila
The 2024 Baftas wrapped up with huge wins for Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer and Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things, undoubtedly two of the best productions in recent memory. An evening championing the best of British and international cinema saw actors, directors, producers and crew members from the last year of film revel in the applause of their peers, and Far Out was on the ground to witness it all.
I’d jumped on the train with my black blazer on as though to blend in with the inevitable swathe of stars descending on London’s Royal Festival Hall. At Waterloo, the first signs of cinematic greatness, the tuxedo signifier of high class, an aesthetic I hadn’t quite managed to match, though such attire swiftly reverted to an undeniable sense of Britishness when I caught a handful of tux-wearers with the most ubiquitous symbols of Britain, the pint of lager in hand.
I’d no time for a tot, though, as I had a press pass to collect and what a fucking nightmare it proved to be, as expected. With the last of the previous night’s vodka beginning to seep from my pores as I made my way up and down the road behind the Southbank, I asked each and every yellow and black-jacketed, remotely official-looking person where I might find said pass.
I took a good few journeys up and down that bloody road and got a genuine sweat on before I finally found the artist’s entrance of the Royal Festival Hall, only to then discover that it was the same entrance of the Queen Elizabeth Hall that I needed to attend. This initially infuriating part of my journey turned out to be a stroke of genius, though, as on my way to the correct venue, I only just so happened to stumble across the one and only Tequila Paul (Paul Mescal) making his way to the red carpet.
It was a real moment, so close to stardom and yet caught in the grimy underbelly of the Southbank – an unlikely meeting of our vastly differing worlds. I’d caught him straight away, and oddly enough, it appeared that he had, too, been unable to divert his eyes from such a tall gentleman as I. Despite the insistent stress and bubbling underneath stress, I flashed Mr Tequila a smile and a nod as though to wish him luck, but sadly, this gesture didn’t quite pay off, as young Paul lost out to Oppenheimer’s Robert Downey Jr in the ‘Best Supporting Actor’ category.
Queen Elizabeth Hall was full of fellow journos tapping away at their laptops, preparing for the main ceremony, and I took my place. The red carpet was heaving now with stars aplenty, joined by the eager tuxedoed fellows from earlier on, who stumbled their way along the plush rouge rug. Conversation saw Andrew Scott express his “dream” of working with my good friend Mescal and All Of Us Strangers director Andrew Haigh, and then Paul himself spoke of his next project, Ridley Scott’s Gladiator sequel. Rosamund Pike celebrated the delightful nature of Richard E. Grant, and it dawned on me that I really had become privy to the ins and outs of the entertainment industry, one of their own, you might say, at an absolute stretch.
Then, it was time for business – the moment at which no further toilet breaks could be sanctioned. As David Tennant took to the stage kilted and dog in hand, there was no room for urinary concerns as it was prize time. Journalism of the most intense kind followed, your very own capturing each word spoken, every award handed over to chuffed recipients, and all the while desperately trying not to think of the sandwiches waiting outside the room on the serving table.
After The Zone of Interest strangely won ‘Film Not In English Language’ and ‘Outstanding British Film’, and DaVine Randolph Joy scooped ‘Best Supporting Actress’, I finally found time to nip out for a coffee and what was left of the sandwiches (unsurprisingly, cheese) ignoring the alluring wine for now, still aware of the final remnants of the voddy that lurked somewhere deep inside me. There’d surely be time for that later.
Urgent words for peace were issued, tears were shed, Sophie Ellis-Bextor belted out everyone’s old new favourite tune, Emma Stone declared her love for her mother, Christopher Nolan was his usual self, Robert Downey Jr gave perhaps the best speech in Baftas history and Far Out was there to relay the lot. Then, suddenly, seemingly as soon as I had arrived, it was time to wrap up.
Or, more importantly, it was time at last for the first, second and third Pinot Noirs of the evening, a liquid deserving of such a stellar evening and company of such high esteem. The Baftas 2024 saw some of the world’s best cinema talents praised in front of their peers, and the parties continued throughout the night across the UK’s capital. But most importantly, for all in the realms of entertainment, it was the historic night that Tequila Paul finally laid eyes on Thomas Leatham.
