Emotions? Theyre no big thing, man! Jeff Bridges on satisfaction, silver linings and his secret life in music

A rainy day in Santa Barbara, and Jeff Bridges sits in his garage, wondering where his favourite spectacles have got to. We are in the middle of a rangy conversation on a video call, meandering our way from Bob Dylan to the anthropomorphism of bees, via Crazy Heart, Cutter’s Way and The Big Lebowski. There are sidetracks and double-backs and loose threads. Intermittently, an unseen assistant hands the actor pairs of glasses seemingly identical to the ones he is already wearing. Bridges, in a soft brown cardigan, inspects each pair and dismisses them. “Where was I?” he asks. The garage

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