Kate Winslet has given a number of fantastic performances this year. There has been her melodramatic turn as a hemmed-in 50s suburban housewife in Revolutionary Road, not to mention her illiterate former-SS guard in The Reader, a story set in post-war Germany where her (rather explicit) sexual-trysts with a younger man are bookended by the reading outloud from classic works of literature, but her greatest performances are being given off-screen.

The two gushing marvels of rebarbative oratorical flight that accompanied her much publicised double Golden Globe win of last week were a wonder of myth-making/story-telling. Serving both to inform anyone who didn't knox she was in dire, shameless need of that particular golden statuette, and to tell them that she is neither German nor suburban American but actually a British (with the perfect English accent to-boot, not all faux-cutglass like Keira Go-Knightly) Actress. And a mother. And so down to earth. So loveable. They were emotionally charming and charmingly emotional in the impression they gave of our dear Kate having gone through such a hard time (not winning an Oscar despite five nominations) before coming out on the otherside. Here. Now.

Last night Winsalot gathered herself for a further speech.

Winning the Screen Actors’ Guild award for best supporting actress in The Reader, she gave a speech that was once again filled with the requisite sighing, raw emotion and bosom heaving (made all the more evident by a resplendent royal blue gown showing off a good deal of her widely admired decolletage) but was this time more measured: cast and crew were thanked deeply; the film’s two late producers Anthony Minghella and Sydney Pollack were lovingly praised; and tears of joy were tastefully subdued. The whole thing was pitch perfect. The greatest performance of her life.

Next week the golden girl comes home to London for an all but certain Bafta win as best actress (she’s nominated twice) for Revolutionary Road. She’ll be playing to a home crowd so the speech will be even calmer and more confident but she’ll be sure to have something up her sleeve (or tucked between her cleaving breasts) to grab the morning headlines.

The purpose of all of this, of taking a month out of life and work to pretty-around in lovely frocks, is to furiously lobby for her Oscar: every red-carpet appearance, every photo-shoot and interview, every single word uttered, is playing its carefully orchestrated part in a campaign that has the Academy Award as its only target.

But will all this strategic charm actually do her any good?

I have to say that I think the campaign is looking increasingly futile. The biggest plaudits have been for her performance in Revolutionary Road (strangely ignored by the American Academy) while her Oscar-nominated performance for The Reader – a film festooned with as many awards nods as excoriating reviews – has been classified supporting rather than leading by every prize-giving board except Oscar and Bafta. While there’s no doubt in even the most scathing reviewer’s opinion that her performance (in Daldry's film) is good, the movie's bitter noticesand the size of her role in it could be enough to persuade the Academy members to put their mark in the box representing either Meryl Streep or Angelina Jolie’s finely drawn Oscar-baiting turn.

So what are her chances? I would have to say slim to none, but then I’ve made a career out of being wrong. What do you think?

SL