His resurrection has all the characteristics of an origin story for a Hollywood superhero: A gifted young actor loses his way, cheats death again and again, then straightens himself out just in time to conquer the world. But the way Robert Downey Jr. tells it, the reality involves a lot more detours, and the final act still hasn't been written. With Iron Man 3 poised to extend his outrageous hot streak, Downey invited GQ's Chris Heath to his house in Malibu to talk about where he's been, where he's going, and where all the demons went.
Robert Downey Jr. habitually carries with him a miniature brown leather suitcase. If he's rummaging inside it, it's usually for another square of Nicorette gum, but there's all sorts of stuff in there: rattling pill bottles—antiparasitics and antivirals ("Sushi's worth it, but sometimes you've got to clean the bugs out") and some kind of chemical if he happens to eat bread—a dark blue beanie bearing the logo of the security company that guards this Malibu estate, some medallions whose twins I'll later see his wife, Susan, wearing, and a typed letter he recently received from Woody Harrelson onto the back of which he has, perhaps absentmindedly, been pressing chewed globs of gum. There is also—and this is what he removes now from the case to show me—a solid-gold Iron Man helmet head.
