An extraordinary and much-loved actress, Kate Winslet is disarming, delightful, decent in a world saturated by excessively annoying egos. So many richly attenuated performances from that increasingly rare creature who treats acting as craft as much as art. Six times nominated and until now passed over.
Yet, you have to wonder whether the academy was in the tight grip of guilt for all the times Winslet has been overlooked, so that only an Oscar would assuage.
It was clearly a dream moment for Winslet, yet in the dark of future nights there are bound to come moments when she murmurs to herself, as I did Sunday night, why not "Little Children"? Or "Iris"? What of "Sense and Sensibility"? What a shame that it was the rough-textured Hanna in "The Reader" that would place the Oscar, finally, in her hands.
Why not Melissa Leo? What of Meryl Streep?