Dressed in dark colours and a black baseball cap, in person the 55-year-old Steve Buscemi cuts basically the same slight, rumpled figure we met a quarter-century ago in Jim Jarmusch's Mystery Train. He might be a roadie coming off a world tour. His famously exophthalmic eyes are a washed-out blue and he's tired, back home in Brooklyn after staying at his house in upstate New York. He likes to go there and hang out and do nothing, he says, maybe take a walk or do a bit of yardwork: he spent the weekend raking leaves. Self-effacing, friendly, polite, it's clear he's here under low-grade sufferance; interviews, he says in his quick, metallic, slightly strangulated way, "aren't my favourite thing to do".
He is a patient