David Puttnam was being battered on his back. Hard. Which might have been a problem if he had been lurking in a darkened alley, getting bludgeoned by a bloke in a balaclava with a bad attitude. But that was not the case. Instead, he was in a lofty theatre that was positively a-dazzle with lights from the stage. There was another glow, too. The showbiz shimmer that sparks when ever a large group of A-List celebrities rub up against one another in the same room. Puttnam was seated at the Academy Awards ceremony. And the bloke beating on his back as though it was a conga drum? Steven Spielberg. (Yes, that Steven Spielberg.) Who was trying, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, to catch his fellow movie maker’s attention.