GQ, March 2000
  DIRECTOR JAMES TOBACK IN A
  PHONECALL INTERVIEW WITH ROBERT
  By James Toback


  It was in the spring of 1985, while searching for an actor to play the lead in
  The Pick-Up Artist, that I first met Robert Downey Jr. He was 20, with slight
  gaps between his teeth, a ready, wild laugh, mischievous dark eyes, a graceful
  sense of movement and a compact but insufficiently toned frame. He was also a
  witty, fast talker, which was essential for the role. I gave him the part -
  his first substantial role - after one meeting. No screen test, no reading. I
  hoped my irrational leap of faith would create confidence in him, which was
  the one quality I suspected he might hold in short supply.

  Tight and energetic, Downey fashioned a kinetic performance. He was musical,
  sly and quick. Still, as we became close friends, it left me frustrated that
  the darkest corners of his irretrievably twisted personality - his compulsion
  simultaneously to charm and to deceive - were only fleetingly on display.
  Indeed, I found he enjoyed being secretive.

  Eleven years later, I wrote Two Girls and a Guy, to give him room to embody
  such a character without inhibition. The film provoked a mutual vow to work
  together whenever possible. I promised that whatever film I was creating, I'd
  always tell him; "If there is no part there that you want to play, invent
  one". I made good on that promise in the forthcoming Bland and White, which
  led to our third collaboration. It was with the question of the origins of his
  role that I began our conversation.

  TOBACK: The character Terry Donniker, the gay husband of Brooke Shields in
  Black and White, who hits on nearly every man he meets - including Mike Tyson
  - he was your idea. How did you come up with him?

  DOWNEY: Well, I figured I've played a send-up version of the heterosexual
  James Toback in The Pick-Up Artist and Two Girls and a Guy. Why don't I now
  play the gay-hausfrau version of Toback?

  TOBACK: I'll take that as a compliment. When you hit on Tyson during the
  improvised party scene, you told him; "I had a dream about you, and in the
  dream you were holding me". He smacked you and slammed you on the floor. Were
  you expecting such a physically violent reaction?

  DOWNEY: Consciously, no. But I was prepared - for the sake of the scene, the
  character, the movie - to play it through to a dramatic conclusion, no matter
  what that conclusion might be.

  TOBACK: Did the smack hurt?

  DOWNEY: A stage slap from Mike Tyson is like a showel whack from a normally
  fortified male.

  TOBACK: Do you want to write and direct when you get out?

  DOWNEY: Sure. I also want to act more selectively. I look back on my career
  and I think, I'm afraid the embarrassing has a serious edge on the admirable.

  TOBACK: Why did you accept roles you knew weren't interesting

  DOWNEY: Money. Fame. Clothes. When I was 18 and starting as an actor, I
  certainly intended to be "good". I felt like something of an artist - at least
  potentially - and I would have been pleased if great and ambitious roles had
  come my way, exclusively. But prestige and prosperity were my primary goals.
  And "yes" was always a more immediate means of achieving them than "no". I got
  lost in materialism.

  TOBACK: Did you make any New Year's resolutions?

  DOWNEY: To be a cross between Peter Max and Armand Assante.

  TOBACK: That being on a serious note, to balance the frivolity of your
  previous response?

  DOWNEY: Indeed. But if you want to continue on a "serious" note about life and
  career, I would say that among my many huge emotional miscalculations was my
  taking a film career for granted. It is the most awesome privilege to be able
  to use one's imagination and wit, physicality and musicality, conscious brain
  and unconscious instinct, in the service of a work that has a chance to move
  and excite and amuse and delight people all over the world, including long
  after we´re dead. What a noble calling! And I felt it was just there for me as
  a kind of given, some sort of inherited birthright - when in reality it's the
  most magnificent luxury.

  TOBACK: My take on the feeling, that the film world has on you is that you're
  the best young - slash - young middle-aged actor - around.

  DOWNEY: I hope that if what you're saying is true - that I'll have the chance
  to show some new stuff soon. I've never been so filled with energy and desire.
  Which lead me to ask; What magnificent role do you have waiting for me?

  TOBACK: You name it.

  DOWNEY: Haven't you found that as you get older, time moves exponentially
  faster and that there's this urgency building to do as much good work as you
  can as soon as possible, because nothing is guaranteed? It could all just end
  tomorrow.

  TOBACK: I've always felt that way, but it's easy to forget.

  DOWNEY: Well, I'll remind you - it's not something I'll forget.

  TOBACK: It's that great line from Tennessee Williams in Sweet Bird of Youth.
  Chance Wayne - Paul Newman, in the greatest performance of his career - is
  about to be carted off and castrated. He looks past the men who are about to
  take him away and says: "I didn't ask for your pity, but just for your
  understanding - not even that, no. Just for your recognition of me in you, and
  the enemy, time, in us all".

  DOWNEY: Wow! That's our next movie.

  TOBACK: Break out today. We'll start tomorrow.

  DOWNEY: (laughs) You've never wanted to do a remake, have you?

  TOBACK: Absolutely. But this is different.

  DOWNEY: Absolutely....Why?

  TOBACK: Because the movie that was made from the play violated the ending in
  the most cowardly fashion. After taking a beating to the face - his penis
  intact - Chance drives off into the night with Heavenly, his only love. We'll
  do Williams straight.

  DOWNEY: That's my New Year's resolution: Tennessee Williams straight.

  TOBACK: Stay well.