At the Governors Ball, the Oscars receive their final names

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Here’s a peek inside the most influential party on Oscar night — the one where you rub elbows with winners, nominees, and gifted people from every corner of the film industry to celebrate the power of storytellers who dare. Inside the Governors Ball, the Oscars are not finished.

The ceremony may end onstage at the Dolby Theatre, but the night continues a few steps away, inside a ballroom where winners quietly line up to have their names engraved into the base of the gold statuette. It is a surprisingly intimate ritual. Technicians lean forward with engraving tools. Cameras hover nearby. An Academy representative checks the spelling of each name. Then the carving begins.

This year, there was a great deal of history to carve.

The 98th Academy Awards produced one of the most fascinating races in recent memory. By the time the celebration shifted to the Governors Ball, filmmakers, actors, composers, and craftspeople filled the room with the kind of energy that follows months of campaigning, speculation, and creative rivalry. Yet the mood was measured.

Alongside champagne and wine were elaborate zero‑proof cocktails layered with citrus, herbs, and botanical teas. The space was full of storytellers — people who spend their lives traveling, observing, and translating the world into images and dialogue — and the atmosphere leaned more reflective than raucous.

One quiet remark captured the tone of the night: pretending the world is in trouble, someone said, is as useful as trying to hold the sky in your fingers. What mattered here was the work. And the people who made it.

One of the milestones of the night belonged to Autumn Durald Arkapaw, who became the first woman — and the first woman of color — to win the Oscar for Best Cinematography for her work on “Sinners.” For nearly a century, the category had existed without a female winner. Her victory changed that.

“Sinners,” directed by Ryan Coogler, entered the evening with 16 nominations — the most ever for a single film — and ended with four wins, including Best Original Screenplay for Coogler, and Best Actor for Michael B. Jordan.

At the Governors Ball, Coogler moved through the room with his wife and producing partner, Zinzi Coogler. The filmmaker from Oakland, who first drew attention with “Fruitvale Station” before reshaping Hollywood with “Creed” and “Black Panther,” appeared both relieved and reflective as collaborators stopped to congratulate him.

Not far away, Jordan’s victory carried its own weight. His performance in “Sinners” earned him the first Oscar of a career that began with television roles in “The Wire” and “Friday Night Lights,” and grew into defining turns in “Fruitvale Station,” “Creed,” and “Black Panther.”

Later, at the engraving station, winners leaned forward as technicians etched their names into the bases of their Oscars. It’s a quiet moment. For a second, the room narrows to the sound of metal against metal. Then the Oscar becomes permanent.

Across the ballroom, another long‑standing ritual unfolded at the table. For more than three decades, the Governors Ball has belonged to Wolfgang Puck, the Austrian‑born chef who has overseen the menu since 1995. This year marked his 32nd year running the kitchen for the Academy’s biggest night.

The scale is staggering — hundreds of chefs, pastry artists, and cooks preparing dozens of dishes for more than a thousand guests — yet the food still feels personal. Guests drift between stations serving Puck’s signature smoked‑salmon Oscar pizzas, truffle chicken pot pie, and wagyu sliders. Nearby, chefs roll sushi behind glass counters while servers pass trays of shrimp tacos, mushroom dumplings, and steak tartare balanced on crisp potatoes.

Dessert leaned into Hollywood mythology — signature Wolfgang. I still have mine from previous years, carefully wrapped and frozen in my freezer, a small, glittering reminder of Oscar night’s sweet excess. Thousands of miniature chocolate Oscar statuettes dusted with edible gold lined pastry displays, flanked by éclairs, caramel‑filled pastries, and gelato spun fresh inside the ballroom.

Behind the bar, bartenders poured champagne and mixed signature cocktails built on tequila, espresso, and citrus. Still, many guests opted for the zero‑proof drinks, herbal, citrusy blends that felt more like ceremonies than cocktails.

The result was a celebration that felt measured and thoughtful, a gathering of people who spend their lives imagining the world.

Across the room, winners’ names were carved into gold. History fixed in metal. And in that corner of Hollywood’s biggest celebration, the future of cinema seemed just a little wider — perhaps even a little brighter — than it had only a few hours earlier.