In the high-stakes theater of the 2026 awards season, a fascinating narrative fracture has emerged within the cultural zeitgeist, turning Paul Thomas Anderson’s magnum opus, One Battle After Another, into a case study on the limits of artistic empathy. Following its September premiere, Sean Penn’s ferocious, unvarnished portrayal of moral decay was anointed the definitive frontrunner for Best Supporting Actor. Yet, as we pivot into late December, a palpable shift has occurred. The industry’s gaze—and its ballots—have defected to his co-star, Benicio Del Toro, whose performance offers a more palatable, redeemable shade of grey. This reversal, highlighted by recent Variety intelligence, signals a profound industry truth: In an era of curated vulnerability, the Academy—and perhaps culture at large—has lost its appetite for true, unflinching evil.
The Aesthetics of Cruelty vs. The Comfort of Redemption
The trajectory of One Battle After Another was supposed to be linear. Paul Thomas Anderson, a director who architects human dysfunction with the precision of a couture tailor, handed Sean Penn a role steeped in "cruelty and moral decay." Critics at the September premiere were breathless, describing the performance as a masterclass in visceral antagonism. It was the kind of role that usually guarantees gold: loud, transformative, and terrifying.
However, the weeks following the premiere have revealed a distinct cooling in the "Penn for Oscar" narrative. The resistance isn't toward the quality of the acting, but the texture of the character. Penn’s role is jagged, ugly, and devoid of the "save the cat" moments that modern screenwriting manuals—and voting bodies—subconsciously crave. It is a performance that refuses to hold the audience's hand.
Contrast this with Benicio Del Toro. While technically occupying the same narrative ecosystem of villainy, Del Toro’s character has been constructed with a velvet lining. He is the "sympathetic" antagonist, the man who does bad things for understandable reasons. In the visual language of cinema, if Penn is the harsh, fluorescent lighting of a crime scene, Del Toro is the moody, romantic chiaroscuro of a noir thriller. The voters, fatigued by real-world polarization, are gravitating toward the monster they can understand, leaving the monster that terrifies them out in the cold.
The Precursor Sweep: An Industry Realigns
Data drives narratives, and the numbers from the last three weeks are irrefutable. As noted in the recent intelligence brief, Del Toro has swept "nearly every major critics group" award since early December. This is not a coincidence; it is a consensus. The critical establishment, often the bellwether for the Academy’s more conservative tastes, has signaled that "complexity" is preferred over "ferocity."
Variety’s awards editor Clayton Davis framed this pivot as a "familiar and intriguing possibility" of voter resistance. The implication is stark: The industry respects the craft required to play a sociopath, but they do not want to invite that sociopath onto the stage. The precursor awards act as a temperature check, and right now, the room is freezing over for Penn. This phenomenon suggests a disconnect between critical intellectualism—which praises the raw—and emotional voting behavior, which rewards the relatable.
From a campaign strategy perspective, this presents a nightmare scenario for the film’s PR team. They are currently managing two titans: one who delivered the performance of the year (Penn), and one who is delivering the feeling of the moment (Del Toro). The momentum has shifted so decisively that industry insiders are now questioning if Penn will even secure a nomination, a thought that seemed ludicrous in September.
Historical Echoes: The Amon Göth Syndrome
To understand the current blockade against Sean Penn, one must look to the sartorial and cinematic history of the Academy. The most damning precedent, as revived by current discourse, is Ralph Fiennes’ chilling turn as Amon Göth in Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (1993). Fiennes delivered perhaps the definitive portrait of evil in the 20th century—cold, erratic, and utterly devoid of humanity. He was critical royalty, yet he lost the Oscar to Tommy Lee Jones for The Fugitive.
Why? Because Jones was charming, distinct, and ultimately on the side of "order." Fiennes was the embodiment of chaos and genocide. Voters, consciously or not, often vote for the person they want to see give a speech, the character they would invite to dinner. They rarely vote for the nightmare.
Penn finds himself in the "Göth Trap." His character in One Battle After Another triggers a defense mechanism in the viewer. We are currently living in a cultural moment that prioritizes "healing," "trauma-informed" narratives, and "empathy." A character that exists purely to destroy, without a tragic backstory to soften the blow, feels antiquated to the modern voter. It is a clash of eras: the method-acting intensity of the 70s meeting the sensitivity-reader ethos of the 2020s.
The Strategic Pivot: Can Fashion Save the Villain?
Deep within the campaign war rooms, a pivot is undoubtedly underway. If the character is too abrasive, the actor must become hyper-accessible. This is where the intersection of celebrity styling and awards campaigning becomes critical. We expect to see a shift in Sean Penn’s public image over the next four weeks leading into the final nomination voting window.
Expect the "softening" of the image. The severe, serious artist persona may be traded for something warmer. This is a tactic often deployed by actresses (the "glamorous transformation"), but here it is necessary for a male icon. If the voters fear the character, the campaign must remind them they love the man. Conversely, Del Toro’s campaign is on autopilot—he simply needs to maintain his cool, enigmatic presence, which aligns perfectly with his character’s sympathetic arc.
This dynamic also impacts the "For Your Consideration" events. The narrative for Penn must shift from "Look at how terrifying he is" to "Look at how brave he was to be this unlikable." It is a nuanced semantic flip, turning the revulsion of the character into a badge of honor for the actor’s commitment. Whether the Academy—a notoriously sentimental voting body—buys this reframing remains the season's biggest gamble.
Cultural Implications: The Death of the Irredeemable
Beyond the gold statues and red carpets, this debate signals a shift in the kinds of stories Hollywood is willing to finance. If the most prestigious body in film consistently rejects "pure evil" in favor of "misunderstood anti-heroes," it incentivizes studios to homogenize their villains. We risk entering an era where every antagonist must have a "save the cat" moment, a tearful confession, or a justifiable motive rooted in trauma.
This "Marvel-ization" of morality—where even the genocidal titan has a point—flattens the human experience. True evil exists. It is arbitrary, cruel, and often boring in its banality. By refusing to reward portrayals of this reality, the Academy reinforces a sanitized version of the world. Penn’s performance in One Battle After Another challenges the audience to stare into the abyss without blinking. The fact that the audience (and the voters) are blinking says more about our current fragility than it does about Penn’s acting chops.
Furthermore, this trend affects the luxury fashion sector and brand endorsements. "Safe" villains like Del Toro’s character are marketable; they can front fragrance campaigns and wear luxury watches. "True" villains are risky. In an ecosystem driven by likability metrics and brand safety, the "unflinching evil" that Penn embodies is a liability, making his potential snub a business decision as much as an artistic one.
Timeline of the Shift
- September 2025: One Battle After Another premieres at major festivals. Sean Penn is instantly hailed as the Best Supporting Actor frontrunner for his "ferocious" performance.
- October – November 2025: The film circulates. Critical acclaim remains high, but whispers regarding the "difficulty" of Penn’s character begin to surface in industry mixers.
- Early December 2025: Precursor season begins. Critics groups in New York, Los Angeles, and beyond begin awarding Benicio Del Toro, citing the "complexity" and "humanity" of his role.
- December 18, 2025: Variety publishes the definitive analysis of the shift, cementing the narrative that Penn has been overtaken due to the "villain bias."
- December 21, 2025: Del Toro solidifies his lead; the industry waits for the Guild awards (SAG) to see if the actors' branch will rescue Penn.
Forecasting the Season: What Happens Next?
As we look toward January 2026, the Oscars race for Best Supporting Actor has transformed from a coronation into a dogfight. The next critical data point will be the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) nominations. Actors often respect the "dive" into darkness more than the general Academy population. If Penn misses a SAG nod, his campaign is effectively dead.
However, if he secures the nomination, we will see a "battle of narratives." The Del Toro camp will push the "heart and soul" angle, while the Penn camp will likely pivot to "artistic bravery." We predict that ultimately, the Academy’s historical bias will hold. Del Toro’s sweep of the precursors is not just a trend; it is a verdict. In 2026, we want our villains to cry, not just to kill.
For Paul Thomas Anderson, this likely means a split vote that could hurt the film’s overall chances in the Best Picture category. When a cast cancels itself out, it often signals a lack of passionate consensus for the film as a whole. The irony remains palpable: in a film titled One Battle After Another, the most vicious conflict isn't on the screen, but on the ballot.
Expert Insights
The situation is best summarized by the industry sentiment captured by Clayton Davis: "Do Oscar voters quietly resist honoring performances that embody out-and-out, unflinching villainy? History suggests they might." This rhetorical question is the defining thesis of the 2026 season. It suggests that for all its posturing about "brave storytelling," Hollywood is ultimately a town that runs on likeability.
For the fashion and culture observer, this is a reminder that aesthetics—the way a character feels to the audience—trump raw technical skill. Sean Penn may have delivered the performance of a lifetime, but Benicio Del Toro delivered the performance of the times.
Written by Ara Ohanian for FAZ Fashion — fashion intelligence for the modern reader.
