my psyche." Acclaimed as the actor of his generation for his portrayal of a coffee-house philosopher in 1994's Reality Bites, Hawke was simultaneously boning up on the films of Michelangelo Antonioni and the early career of Jack Nicholson. "I was a little late," he says. "Two decades too late." He was stuck in the 90s, eulogising the 70s.

Then came divorce from Uma Thurman, amid rumours of an affair with the couple's nanny, and vilification by the tabloids as Public Ratbag No 1. Hawke holed up in the Chelsea hotel for a couple of years, and returned to the theatre. When he did resurface on screen, it was to contemplate adultery (Richard Linklater's Before Sunset), rob his own parents (Sidney Lumet's Before the Devil Knows You're Dead), or skimmoney from his fellow cops (Brooklyn's Finest). If the 90s felt like a walk in the park for the actor, the last decade has seemed like a lightning dance, a canter beneath gathering clouds.

"Even this action movie I did, Assault on Precinct 13 – I saw a piece of that on TV the other day and I just looked depressed," admits the 41-year-old. "The whole movie was depressed. It's Detroit. It's snowing. My character's a pillhead. It definitely infiltrated my life." His charisma has a slightly haggard intensity these days, his face gaunt, his trademark goatee a little scruffier than you remember it; he looks like a starved version of himself. But he is still a fabulous talker, making unbreakable eye contact during long, soulful riffs on the