Bleak house for babe Olivia

I was in LA for The Sixth Sense premiere, with a view to hanging around and trying to lap up some of Bruce Willis's reflected glory.

Then my agent said I'd been offered Dead Babies. I was very happy, because I'd been whingeing about not having any work in the explosion of British film-making.

The film is based on a Martin Amis novel about a group of friends on a sex and drugs binge in a country house, which goes horribly wrong. It's a mystery as well, because a nutter keeps leaving very unpleasant, aggressive notes around and you don't know who it is. I play Diana, a nicely brought-up rich girl with social ambitions, who ends up sexually addicted to a violent boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

I find Amis's stuff very bleak. Reading this, I'd feel horrified and disgusted and would have to go and have a good scrub down. But I couldn't keep myself away. It's fascinating horror. And it's funny. You find yourself laughing against your better judgment.

If I'm going to be in a crazy drugs movie, this is the one. I've only ever passive-smoked marijuana and am not particularly keen on being in a brainless movie that is glorifying drugs culture. But I don't think this does. I think Amis is more intelligent and interesting than that. But I'm sure there will be lots of Radio 4 debates about films encouraging drugs as a result.

As for the nudity, I've never had much problem with that. There are things I'm not prepared to do with my clothes off - but in this case it's just running across a field chased by a cow.