Episode 27 — Oscar Predictions: Best Adapted Screenplay

In this episode of Movies I Give a Fork About, AJ breaks down the nominees for Best Adapted Screenplay at the 2026 Academy Awards.

From ambitious political storytelling to dark satire, genre-blending horror, and emotionally intimate character studies, this year’s category showcases some of the most distinctive voices in filmmaking.

AJ looks at what makes each screenplay unique — how the writers build tension, construct character, and create stories that feel original enough to stand out in a crowded awards season.

Then it comes down to the predictions:

Who will win, who should win, and which screenplay could surprise everyone on Oscar night.

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Hosted by AJ Jones, this podcast cuts through hype, marketing, and awards buzz to answer one simple question:

Is this movie actually worth your time?

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Welcome to Movies I Give a Fork About, the podcast where we don't use stars, we use forks. Because not every movie deserves your time, not every movie earns your emotion, but when one truly does, that's when you give a fork. I'm AJ, and today's episode is the Oscar Predictions for Best Adapted Screenplay. There are five nominees this year, and if you've been listening to the podcast, you will know I've already reviewed all of these films. So I'm gonna give some quick thoughts on each before getting to my predictions. Okay, first up, begonia. Begonia is nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay, and it's based on the 2003 cult Korean film Save the Green Planet. This film is directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, and if you're familiar with his work, you'll know he has a very particular tone. Strange, unsettling, and often darkly funny. Or as I call it, Yorgos level weird. The story follows a conspiracy-obsessed man played by Jesse Plemens who becomes convinced that powerful forces are hiding the truth about the world around him. What makes the screenplay interesting is how it balances the disturbing premise with moments of dark satire and surprisingly sympathetic character work. Beneath the absurdity, the script explores the grotesque underbelly of wealth and power while also examining the mindset of modern conspiracy theorists. It is strange, uncomfortable, and intentionally provocative, which is exactly the kind of storytelling Yorgos tends to thrive. Next up, Frankenstein. Based on Mary Shelley's classic novel, Frankenstein follows a brilliant but dangerously ambitious scientist who defies the natural order and creates life. But this isn't jump scare horror, it's gothic tragedy. The film unfolds in two moments, creation and consequence, and leans into the emotional weight rather than the spectacle. Yes, there's violence and unsettling moments, but this isn't horror built on shock value. It's existential, it's sorrowful, and it lingers. At nearly three hours, I can't imagine how many pages in the screenplay this is unmistakably a Guillermo del Toro film. If you love the shape of water, you'll recognize the DNA here. Del Toro has always had empathy for monsters. And in Frankenstein, that empathy sits at the center of the story. And that story, the screenplay nominated, was written by Del Toro himself, and it feels cohesive and intentional. It certainly honors Shelley's original work while giving the story a modern emotional lens. It doesn't feel studio shaped, instead, it feels authored. Next, on to Hamnet. Hamnet is another writer-director project from Chloe Zhao, the filmmaker behind No Manland and the Writer. And once again she leans into her signature style of stillness and emotional restraint. And what is striking is how Jesse Buckley and Paul Mascell adapted to that rhythm. These actors capable of big performances, but here they looked at the page and turned inward, allowing silence and small emotional shifts to carry this brilliant story. The screenplay isn't driven by plot so much as by grief, and specifically how two people process it differently. Buckley's character carries grief inward. She becomes quieter and more withdrawn, while Mescal moves outward, into his work, into the distance, and ultimately into art. And the brilliance of this script is that neither response is framed as right or wrong. They are merely two different languages of mourning. One battle after another. One battle after another is loosely inspired by Thomas Pinchon's novel Vineland and is another writer-director project from Paul Thomas Anderson. If you know Anderson's work, you know ambition is never the problem. This is a sprawling, nearly three-hour political thriller set in Northern California that is dense, layered, and intentionally uncomfortable. And what makes this adaptation interesting is how Anderson takes Pinchon's sprawling, chaotic world and translates it into something cinematic while preserving that sense of instability. The story unfolds in a morally gray political landscape where there are no clean heroes, only flawed people navigating power, ideology, and survival. There's a dark comedy running underneath it all, but it's uneasy by design. And the story doesn't rush to explain itself, and it certainly doesn't try to comfort the audience. Instead, the screenplay leans into complexity and the messy reality of resistance movements, systemic racism, and fractured political alliances. It is a challenging piece of writing, ambitious and unmistakably authored. And lastly, Train Dreams. Train Dreams is nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay based on the novella by Dennis Johnson. The story moves at its own pace. It is not loud or flashy, and instead it leans into reflection and atmosphere following the life of a man working in the forests of the Pacific Northwest in the early 1900s. What makes the screenplay interesting is how faithfully it preserves the poetic tone of Johnson's writing. The story unfolds slowly, allowing landscapes, quiet moments, and small emotional shifts to carry the narrative. In many ways, the wilderness becomes a character itself. The forest feels endless, the mountains ancient, and the environment constantly reminding us how small one human life can feel against something so vast. The script doesn't rush to explain everything. Instead, it lets life unfold quietly and patiently, capturing the beauty, isolation, and passing of time in a way that feels deeply reflective. It is a restrained adaptation that trusts atmosphere and observation more than traditional plot. So my prediction when it comes to best adapted screenplay, here's what I think. Should win Hamnet. Could win Train Dreams. And that's today's fork. If you enjoyed this episode, please follow the show, share it with someone who actually gives a fork about movies. Until next time, watch boldly, judge honestly, and never be afraid to give a fork.