FOR THOSE OF US who cherish the sight of luvvies having a full-on hissy fit, the past couple of days have been a treat. On Sunday night, the Bafta awards saw the main British nominees going home empty-handed, pushed aside by the triumph of Hollywood. Instead of leaving with their tails between their legs, however, the British cinematic establishment cried “foul”. Joe Wright, the director of Pride & Prejudice, moaned on stage that Keira Knightley, the British star of his film, was not even nominated for Best Actress. The poor dear.

Ralph Fiennes did not even need to speak to convey his apparent contempt for the proceedings. Having himself failed to win the best actor award, after his co-star Rachel Weisz had failed to win best actress, the BBC director mischievously cut to Fiennes’s thunderously narked expression when The Constant Gardener was beaten to the best film award by Brokeback Mountain.

Then yesterday, the director Don Boyd complained that the awards were simply a “microcosm” of “the triumph of American cultural imperialism. A sad reminder that we live in the modern equivalent of a Roman-occupied Britain.”

Deary me. The problem that lies at the heart of the American triumph has nothing to do with imperialism, George Bush, global capitalism or any of the other pantomime villains so beloved by the luvvies. It is that the Brits’ temper tantrums are a damned sight more compelling than most of the films they produce.

Take a look at the American winners: Brokeback Mountain, Capote and Walk the Line. Not one is a caricature Hollywood blockbuster. All of them have depth and subtlety. Walk the Line might have looked commercial from the start, but a film about Truman Capote, or two gay cowboys in Wyoming?

Contrast that with the supposed British sure-thing, The Constant Gardener. Lavishly directed it might have been, but its student agitprop message — they’re worse than gun runners, those nasty drugs companies — and preposterous plot were so laughably stupid that even Bafta’s membership saw more sense than to honour such drivel in the face of three outstanding other films, which happened to be American.

If the moaners want the Baftas to celebrate British films rather than excellent films, they should find a community hall, and hope that they get coverage in the local papers.