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‘Don’t worry, this won’t hurt my dear,’ he says sotto voce. ‘Nah, what happened was that I stabbed myself during a stage production,’ he says in his sing-song Midwestern accent.
A man at the next table darts an anxious glance, clearly wondering if he’s become an extra in a horror movie. ‘I was doing acrobatics with the knife and in the final scene I had to press it to my chest, fall face down on it and pretend to kill myself.
We are talking about doing his own very graphic adult sex scenes. Antichrist, which was previewed at the Cannes film festival amid a brouhaha of media moral outrage, whipped up a storm of indignation (most genuine, some affected) among critics who are aghast that the British Board of Film Classification has given the film – from the pen of Lars von Trier, the cult Danish film-maker – an 18 rating.
They are even more aghast at its unsimulated, nigh on pornographic scenes of uninhibited passion in which Dafoe and his co-star, Charlotte Gainsbourg, couple with feverish abandon before indulging in a frenzy of genital self-mutilation, mutual masturbation and an eye-watering quasi torture sequence.
Night after night I would palm the knife as I dropped so that it fell flat.
‘I know it’s extreme,’ Dafoe admits, still toying with the knife. ‘When you’ve made something good you want to show it.
Personally, I thought it was outrageous that the British tabloid press attacked Lars at the press preview shouting: ‘‘You must justify this.’’ Why?