Cate's a rebel with a real cause

The character of Annie is apparently based on Billy Bob's mother, a legendary Southern psychic whom he still consults before stepping on trains or planes. Blanchett demurs, however. 'I know there's a lot of his childhood in it, but I don't know if it was inspired by one particular person.' So, rather than gather round the ouija board with Mama Thornton, Blanchett sought out a host of mediums, tarot readers and tea-leafers in the course of her research. 'I met a couple of extraordinary women,' she says, her eyes growing wide.

'I mean, I'm not sure if I believe in it all - I've never been one for getting my palm out in a draughty caravan - but these women were incredibly charismatic and I think they can tap into a realm outside normal consciousness. I didn't tell them who I was or why I was there...' Hang on, though, what if they recognised you and just went into a 'Youuuu will become a famous actress and win an Ossscar...' act?

'No, no,' she laughs, 'it wasn't like that. I'm not interested in pinning down the future. There's no fun in that. Besides, my memory's so terrible I can't remember any predictions they might have made. What they did was exude warmth; you just wanted to curl up on their laps and go to sleep. It's the same with Annie; she's as much a social worker as a psychic. People come along in states of anxiety or at turning points in their lives and probably need counselling as much as to know whether they're going to win the Lottery. The women I met help people through the chaos and confusion in their lives, that's their main gift.' She grins mischevously. 'They didn't make me levitate or anything like that.'

When we meet, Blanchett's shooting Bandits, a Barry Levinson-directed crime caper in which two bank robbers - Bruce Willis and the ubiquitous Billy Bob Thornton ('I could work with Billy Bob every day of the week,' she smiles, 'which is just as well, because over the past year I practically have been') - take her hostage and fall in love with her.

'It's an ironic take on Patti Hearst,' she says. 'She kind of forces them to take her with them; her life's not working, so she figures being a hostage would be more exciting.' Once that's wrapped, she'll go straight onto the adaptation of Sebastian Faulks' Second World War romance Charlotte Gray, where she'll co-star with Billy Crudup and be reunited with Gillian Armstrong. '

They're all very different parts,' she says with a toss of the head, 'which suits me fine. After I did Elizabeth, there was a lot of pressure to go a certain way with my career, which I resisted. When you've done something you're recognised for, there's a sense that people want you to repeat that. So often when characters are written for women, you read it and find it's the same story and they've just changed the names. I was offered a lot of Elizabeth re-runs, except she was called Sally, Anne, or Mary-Lou. I wanted to explore character roles with a lot of variety. So I became wary and held out. And then, like buses, a load of things I wanted to do came along at once. I guess what I'm trying to say,' she sighs, 'is that I'm in revolt against the expected or the obvious.'

This has been a constant refrain in her life as well as her career. She studied economics at the University of Melbourne, but was getting a little bored poring over Keynesian theory, so, at 18, she backpacked her way to Egypt. 'I just took off,' she says, shaking her head. 'I had no idea where I was going. But you're fearless at that age; you don't care if you end up on dark back lanes at three in the morning. I was just desperate to sniff out some life experiences.' Hers turned out to be more singular than most, however. She ended up as an American cheerleading extra in an Egyptian boxing movie.

Suitably inspired, she enrolled at Sydney's National Institute of Dramatic Arts on her return, and appeared on stage in David Mamet's Oleanna - alongside Geoffrey Rush - and was spotted by Paradise Road director Bruce Beresford within months of her graduation.

'It's been six years since I left drama school,' she says, 'and they've been pretty intense. I never expected things to happen this fast.' One of the casualties of her fast-tracking has been her private life. She keeps a home at Coogee, Sydney, which she proudly describes as 'more daggy [downmarket] than Bondi', but admits she's barely seen it in the past couple of years, though she's 'dying to go back and work in Australia, sure. I get as homesick as anyone else and it's still definitely home'.

She praises her husband of four years, screenwriter Andrew Upton, who joined her in England during her Plenty stint, for 'his patience and tolerance while I fly around the world'. They met while she was performing in The Seagull. 'He thought I was aloof, I thought he was arrogant. Then he kissed me and, well, that was that.' Guarded about personal matters, she concedes when pressed that she's still 'swept away' by him. She also remarks wistfully that children are on their agenda but 'life seems to be flying by, and I'm starting to wonder if it's going to be long enough to do all the things I want to do.'

As if to emphasise the point, a battery of publicists arrives to whisk Blanchett off to her next appointment. In the now megastar-free lift, I ponder on the fact that, while she may, at best, feel ambiguous toward professed foretellers of the future, any of the Gypsy Rose Lees who prophesied that Blanchett's prospects were less stellar should surely seek alternative employment.