Red Carpet Royalty: Ireland’s Cinema Giants Battle for IFTA Glory

Olivia Bennett, 1/21/2026Ireland dazzles on and off screen as the IFTAs parade cinematic royalty, Jessie Buckley reigns, and Sam Heughan swaps kilts for covert ops in ‘Embassy’. It’s a season of ambition, artistry, and pure emerald glamour—Hollywood, take notes: the Irish aren’t here to play it shy.

Surrounding this annual parade is an atmosphere that feels less parade, more rollicking myth. Daniel Day-Lewis, Jessie Buckley, Cillian Murphy—the names alone are a calling card. Yet this year, the lineup reads as a tapestry: fragments of the country’s history, threads from the present day, and a few feverish imaginings of what Irish cinema might become.

Jessie Buckley, peering out from beneath a mane of red hair, commands attention with an emotional gravity in Chloé Zhao’s *Hamnet* that borders on seismic. Describing her performance as “gut-wrenching” might be an understatement—a word borrowed by critics who’ve possibly run out of superlatives. Buckley has the rare ability to leave an audience wrung out and still wanting more, dragging Shakespeare’s lines into something unsettlingly current.

On the other side of the bare stage, Paul Mescal—her *Hamnet* counterpart, with those eyes equal parts haunted and haunting—reminds everyone of an Irish archetype: earnest, bruised, yet somehow always modern. Their duel for the spotlight isn’t so much a rivalry as a pas de deux, an exchange that elevates both and everyone watching. They aren’t, in truth, outliers among this year’s nominees; the field is brimming with nuance and hidden royalty. Carolyn Bracken turns in a chilling performance in *Horseshoe*, while Fiona Shaw in *Hot Milk* is as regal as a 21st-century Boudicca. One could argue, with some justification, that Buckley’s latest triumph feels inevitable. Perhaps it’s less an upset, more a slow-motion coronation.

Not to be outdone, *Christy*—Brendan Canty’s formidable meditation on brotherhood—marches ahead with fourteen nominations, the sort of haul likely to make even the most seasoned producer a bit giddy. Films built around family feuds have always struck a nerve here, maybe because Irish storytelling finds its pulse in the intimate, the bruised, the barely reconciled. Cork provides the setting this time, though the emotional terrain feels universal.

And then—like a ghost drifting in from a different era—Daniel Day-Lewis steps forward. Returned to the race for *Anemone*, a film helmed by his own son Ronan, it’s as if the Day-Lewis torch isn’t simply handed over, but hammered and set with a fresh family crest. The method madness, it seems, is familial.

Not to be overlooked, Cillian Murphy, that byword for charismatic restraint, draws a nomination for *Steve*. Tim Mielants’s drama sets him amid the thrumming chaos of an Irish school—hardly the first time a Murphy character walked into calamity and made it look stylish. Opposite him, Steve Coogan (*Saipan*), Colin Farrell (*Ballad of a Small Player*), and Éanna Hardwicke (again, *Saipan*) flush out a best actor category thick with unpredictable edges. They collectively form something of a love letter to the Irish male on film: battered, wry, appealing in ways that shouldn’t make sense, but do.

While the IFTAs plant their emerald flag in the local soil, the international categories gleam with familiar names. Here, the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, and Emma Stone find themselves woven into Ireland’s growing tapestry. It’s no small thing. *Hamnet* even vies for the best international film prize, hinting at a global game of one-upmanship—Oscars meet Irish wit over a pint; the stakes are high, but never humorless.

Somewhere between the speeches and flashing cameras, 2025’s buzz takes an unexpected turn. The mists have barely settled over the final season of *Outlander*—its swan song set to debut March 6—when its star, Sam Heughan, is spied preparing his next leap: from Highland tartan to high-stakes subterfuge in a new geopolitical thriller, *Embassy*. It’s hard to tell whether Heughan abandons the kilt with regret or relief, but he’s definitely trading castles for corridors, as the six-part series plants him firmly in the high-pressure world of global diplomacy and clandestine operations.

And yes, the set pieces become more marble hallway than misty moor, with Anna Kendrick bringing bite as a quick-witted diplomat and J.K. Simmons assuming his usual unflappable posture as an ambassador. The synopsis? Think Bond, if 007 ever paused for a Cabinet debate. The show, intriguingly adrift without a streamer as of press time, carries its own frisson of suspense—proof, if any were needed, that TV’s golden age now cuts a transatlantic figure, with location shoots in London and Cologne, and European intrigue never more in vogue.

Backroom maneuvering for *Embassy* involved enough agents and studio execs to collapse a lesser boardroom; if the industry rumor mill is to be trusted, the deal’s formation had all the elegance of a well-choreographed, if overpopulated, military exercise. This seems the new world order for prestige television—networks, cities, and time zones blending in a restless global sweep.

Ireland, meanwhile, continues its quiet transformation. One awards night at a time, its storytellers draw the world’s gaze—not just for the shimmer of Armani or the flashbulb cacophony, but for that rare capacity to marry artistry and audacity. Modesty was never going to be on the invitation list this year. And in 2025, nobody seems to mind.

The velvet curtain lifts on cinematic season in Ireland, and once again, the Irish Film & TV Awards make their entrance with considerable panache—no one could accuse this event of blending into the woodwork. The scene in Dublin’s Royal Convention Centre is tinged with that particular kind of sparkle only borrowed couture and a heady mix of ambition produce. On a night like this, the air isn’t just humming with anticipation—it’s practically audible, tangled with whispers about who’s arrived, and who’s just eclipsed the room with a diamond-laden wink.Surrounding this annual parade is an atmosphere that feels less parade, more rollicking myth. Daniel Day-Lewis, Jessie Buckley, Cillian Murphy—the names alone are a calling card. Yet this year, the lineup reads as a tapestry: fragments of the country’s history, threads from the present day, and a few feverish imaginings of what Irish cinema might become.Jessie Buckley, peering out from beneath a mane of red hair, commands attention with an emotional gravity in Chloé Zhao’s *Hamnet* that borders on seismic. Describing her performance as “gut-wrenching” might be an understatement—a word borrowed by critics who’ve possibly run out of superlatives. Buckley has the rare ability to leave an audience wrung out and still wanting more, dragging Shakespeare’s lines into something unsettlingly current.On the other side of the bare stage, Paul Mescal—her *Hamnet* counterpart, with those eyes equal parts haunted and haunting—reminds everyone of an Irish archetype: earnest, bruised, yet somehow always modern. Their duel for the spotlight isn’t so much a rivalry as a pas de deux, an exchange that elevates both and everyone watching. They aren’t, in truth, outliers among this year’s nominees; the field is brimming with nuance and hidden royalty. Carolyn Bracken turns in a chilling performance in *Horseshoe*, while Fiona Shaw in *Hot Milk* is as regal as a 21st-century Boudicca. One could argue, with some justification, that Buckley’s latest triumph feels inevitable. Perhaps it’s less an upset, more a slow-motion coronation.Not to be outdone, *Christy*—Brendan Canty’s formidable meditation on brotherhood—marches ahead with fourteen nominations, the sort of haul likely to make even the most seasoned producer a bit giddy. Films built around family feuds have always struck a nerve here, maybe because Irish storytelling finds its pulse in the intimate, the bruised, the barely reconciled. Cork provides the setting this time, though the emotional terrain feels universal.And then—like a ghost drifting in from a different era—Daniel Day-Lewis steps forward. Returned to the race for *Anemone*, a film helmed by his own son Ronan, it’s as if the Day-Lewis torch isn’t simply handed over, but hammered and set with a fresh family crest. The method madness, it seems, is familial.Not to be overlooked, Cillian Murphy, that byword for charismatic restraint, draws a nomination for *Steve*. Tim Mielants’s drama sets him amid the thrumming chaos of an Irish school—hardly the first time a Murphy character walked into calamity and made it look stylish. Opposite him, Steve Coogan (*Saipan*), Colin Farrell (*Ballad of a Small Player*), and Éanna Hardwicke (again, *Saipan*) flush out a best actor category thick with unpredictable edges. They collectively form something of a love letter to the Irish male on film: battered, wry, appealing in ways that shouldn’t make sense, but do.While the IFTAs plant their emerald flag in the local soil, the international categories gleam with familiar names. Here, the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, and Emma Stone find themselves woven into Ireland’s growing tapestry. It’s no small thing. *Hamnet* even vies for the best international film prize, hinting at a global game of one-upmanship—Oscars meet Irish wit over a pint; the stakes are high, but never humorless.Somewhere between the speeches and flashing cameras, 2025’s buzz takes an unexpected turn. The mists have barely settled over the final season of *Outlander*—its swan song set to debut March 6—when its star, Sam Heughan, is spied preparing his next leap: from Highland tartan to high-stakes subterfuge in a new geopolitical thriller, *Embassy*. It’s hard to tell whether Heughan abandons the kilt with regret or relief, but he’s definitely trading castles for corridors, as the six-part series plants him firmly in the high-pressure world of global diplomacy and clandestine operations.And yes, the set pieces become more marble hallway than misty moor, with Anna Kendrick bringing bite as a quick-witted diplomat and J.K. Simmons assuming his usual unflappable posture as an ambassador. The synopsis? Think Bond, if 007 ever paused for a Cabinet debate. The show, intriguingly adrift without a streamer as of press time, carries its own frisson of suspense—proof, if any were needed, that TV’s golden age now cuts a transatlantic figure, with location shoots in London and Cologne, and European intrigue never more in vogue.Backroom maneuvering for *Embassy* involved enough agents and studio execs to collapse a lesser boardroom; if the industry rumor mill is to be trusted, the deal’s formation had all the elegance of a well-choreographed, if overpopulated, military exercise. This seems the new world order for prestige television—networks, cities, and time zones blending in a restless global sweep.Ireland, meanwhile, continues its quiet transformation. One awards night at a time, its storytellers draw the world’s gaze—not just for the shimmer of Armani or the flashbulb cacophony, but for that rare capacity to marry artistry and audacity. Modesty was never going to be on the invitation list this year. And in 2025, nobody seems to mind.