BRAHMA REVIVES THE SPIRIT OF JOGA BONITO AS WORLD CUP FEVER BEGINS TO STIR

Brazilian beer brand Brahma has launched a nostalgic new campaign ahead of the 2026 FIFA World Cup, evoking the golden era of Nike’s Joga Bonito adverts. Featuring Ronaldo Nazário and Carlo Ancelotti, the film taps into Brazil’s emotional relationship with football, blending street culture, samba rhythms and renewed national belief.

As the long march towards the 2026 FIFA World Cup gathers pace, Brazil’s advertisers are once again turning to the country’s most reliable national currency: footballing faith. This time it is Brahma, the flagship beer brand of Ambev, stepping onto the pitch with a campaign that feels less like a commercial and more like a love letter to the mythology of Brazilian football.

Released under the banner “Tá Liberado Acreditar” — translated as “Let Yourself Believe” — the new film arrives at a moment when optimism surrounding the Brazilian National Team feels more cautious than celebratory. Yet rather than resisting that scepticism, the campaign leans into it, turning doubt into the emotional engine of the story.

The result is a film steeped in the visual and emotional language of football advertising’s golden age. For anyone raised on the iconic Nike Joga Bonito era of the early 2000s, the similarities are unmistakable. Grainy textures, sunlit street football, impossible flicks and samba-infused swagger combine to create a world where football is less a sport and more a national state of mind.

Set against the vibrant backdrop of Rio de Janeiro, the advert follows a disillusioned supporter who stumbles upon an improvised street match. What begins with scepticism slowly transforms into wonder as the spontaneous rhythm and flair of Brazilian street football begins to rekindle belief. It is a familiar narrative in Brazil: football not merely as entertainment, but as an emotional inheritance passed through generations.

The campaign carefully reconstructs the atmosphere that once made Brazil feel like football’s uncontested protagonist. Archival footage from historic World Cup moments is woven together with recreated scenes inspired by the Seleção’s most magical eras, blurring the line between memory and modernity. Elastic dribbles, outrageous skills and fleeting moments of brilliance are not presented inside polished arenas, but on neighbourhood streets where Brazilian football culture first takes shape.

That grounding in everyday Brazil gives the film much of its emotional resonance. While global football advertising has increasingly become sleek, hyper-produced and celebrity-driven, Brahma’s approach embraces imperfection and spontaneity. Dusty pavements, crowded alleyways and improvised goalposts become symbols of authenticity, echoing the romanticised image of Brazil that football fans around the world still carry.

The soundtrack deepens that nostalgia. Tamanco no Samba, the classic 1960s recording by Cauby Peixoto, lends the film the warmth of a rediscovered VHS cassette, reinforcing the sense that viewers are revisiting something cherished rather than witnessing a contemporary marketing exercise. The commercial may be designed for the modern social media era, but emotionally it belongs to another time entirely.

Its casting choices are equally deliberate. Ronaldo Nazário appears as the embodiment of Brazil’s last World Cup triumph in 2002, a reminder of an era when the Seleção represented joy, inevitability and spectacle in equal measure. Alongside him is Carlo Ancelotti, the current coach tasked with steering Brazil into a new chapter. His presence subtly bridges past glory with present uncertainty.

The timing is far from accidental. With brands already preparing for the commercial frenzy surrounding the 2026 FIFA World Cup, emotional positioning is becoming as important as sponsorship visibility. For Brazil especially, football advertising carries unusual cultural weight because the national team is intertwined with identity itself. Five World Cup trophies have created expectations that can inspire as easily as they burden.

Brahma’s campaign understands that contradiction. It recognises that belief in Brazilian football today is no longer unconditional, yet it argues that hope remains inseparable from the sport’s magic. Rather than promising victory, the film invites audiences to rediscover the feeling that anything remains possible.

In many ways, that has always been the essence of Brazil’s footballing folklore. The barefoot child dribbling through narrow streets, the impossible flick attempted without hesitation, the idea that flair matters as much as results — these are images that continue to define how the world imagines Brazilian football, even in periods of disappointment.

If the commercial succeeds, it is because it understands that nostalgia remains one of advertising’s most powerful tools, particularly in football. Audiences may know they are being sold a product, but they willingly surrender when the message comes wrapped in memory, music and emotion. Add a samba rhythm underneath and, for a few fleeting moments at least, belief becomes irresistible once again.