Fiona McCade: Kate may be uncool but I love her for it

One of my favourite Beatles lyrics is from Hey Jude, and it goes like this: “For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder.”

I’ve always felt that coolness was overrated, and so I had no problems at all watching Kate Winslet being fabulously, outrageously and unashamedly uncool at the Emmy awards this week.

When Kate won the Best Actress gong, she didn’t keep her head down and glide demurely up to the podium in mock-humble style. Oh no. When her name was announced, she punched the air; shouted: “Yessss!”; jumped up and down in the aisle, hugging people; grabbed every proffered hand of congratulations she could hold; then ran – yes, ran, in sky-high heels – up to the stage, where she kissed all available faces, then yelped: “Oh look! I really did win it! Thank you so, so much! This means such a great deal!” Then she thanked all organic lifeforms in the universe, told the watching world how much she loved her mum, exhorted us all to appreciate our mums, and danced away, like the sugared-up lovechild of Pollyanna and SpongeBob SquarePants.

I thought it was great to see someone so genuinely happy, but Kate’s unalloyed show of glee hasn’t impressed everyone. No sooner had the lucky winner got her breath back than a large chunk of media commentators, Twitterers and assorted other social networkers were already slating her unseemly comportment.

“Accidentally saw Kate Winslet’s award acceptance speech” tweeted one. “I never want to see anything like that ever again.” Judgments such as: “Over-the-top”, “lack of composure”, “pass the sick bag”, “bumbling”, “gushing”, “loud”, “squealing”, “silly”, “immodest”, “not classy” and, of course, the inevitable “uncool” were bandied about.

So Kate, I’m here to say that I loved it. I loved your loud, immodest, over-the-top, uncomposed gush-fest. I love the fact that you’re happy and you know it and you really want to show it. I love how you just got on with the business of enjoying yourself and making the most of a really wonderful moment, free from any concerns about how cool, or otherwise, pure joy may seem.

I know Kate does this from time to time, but doesn’t the fact that the woman has won an Oscar and yet still gets genuinely excited every time she wins anything make you warm to her? What would her detractors have her do? Slump up on stage, roll her eyes, mutter: “Whatever” and drop the gong into the bin on the way out? And even worse, can you imagine the frustration of losing to someone who did that? A gracious winner owes a lavish show of jubilation to the unsuccessful nominees, lest they mug her backstage and post the statuette where no spotlight will ever shine.

After all, what’s not to like about winning an award? You’re in a great dress, being told how great you are – it’s like a second wedding, but without the fighting guests. Heck, in Kate’s place, I’d hire a rugby team to carry me aloft onto the stage, singing We are the Champions in 15-part harmony while I screech: “Top of the world, ma! Top of the world!” Which, on reflection, may be one of the many reasons why I have never been awarded anything.

The day that Kate drifts solemnly to the podium to get all serious and sultry about her art – and how terrible it is that we’re still at war/ destroying the rainforests/ failing to cure Aids – will be a sad one indeed.

I hope it never happens, because a little unapologetic elation never hurt anybody. Besides, the fact that Kate is always so exuberantly grateful for her good fortune probably encourages trophy-givers to keep on presenting her with more and more accolades. Giving Kate an award must make them feel like they’re playing Santa in an orphans’ home. It’s a win-win situation.

Having said all this, I do think there is a time for quiet composure and dignity at awards ceremonies. And that time is when you’ve just lost. Because playing it cool isn’t just for fools, it’s for losers too.