ROBERT DOWNEY JR. HAS A DRUG PROBLEM

Why Can't People Get That Through Their Thick Skulls?

So what is Robert Downey Jr.'s problem anyway? He has Hollywood at his feet
telling him what a genius he is, giving him an Oscar nomination and a
Golden Globe Award, throwing lots of money his way, and still he can't
shake that monkey on his back -- though throwing lots of money his way
might not be the wisest thing given how much easier it makes feeding that
monkey.

They put him in rehab, they put him in jail, they put him on Ally McBeal,
where his poignant, well-drawn performance made him the world's most
beloved junkie, and still he just can't get his act together.

Last week, he was arrested again for being under the influence of a
"controlled substance," which means it was a drug not prescribed by a
Beverly Hills doctor. Shortly after it was announced, he was released from
his role on Ally McBeal. He was moved to a six-month rehabilitation program
where he's under 24-hour surveillance; his parole supervision and treatment
efforts have been stepped up. He's now taking legal drugs for underlying
clinical depression. It's not certain he'll be a free man at the end of it.
That decision will be up to his parole officer.

Downey's definitely not following the Hollywood addiction script, a rite of
passage more predictable than Greek tragedy: bad public behaviour, followed
by a PR statement that the celebrity is fatigued, followed by more rumours,
followed by the announcement that the celebrity is battling an addiction
that began with a reliance on a prescription painkiller like Vicodin after
a back injury or minor surgery. Then there's the recovery phase at a famous
detox clinic such as Hazelton or the Betty Ford, followed by the cathartic
"I've beaten it" interview on Entertainment Tonight or, in Melanie
Griffith's case, heralded on the cover of Redbook.

What people can't seem to wrap their heads around is that Downey's
addiction is clearly more powerful -- or even more satisfying -- than that
other American addiction: the desire to be rich and famous. Certainly it's
made a mess of his life, as addictions inevitably do. His marriage is
broken, he lost custody of his young son, he's mired in debt.

And this has made Downey something of an enigma. He's on a self-destructive
spiral in a town that loves happy endings, in a country that sees personal
redemption as a constitutional right.

But the confusion about Downey really only reflects a wider cultural
confusion about addiction and how to deal with it. In Downey's case,
because he's rich and talented, it's assumed his habit is his own choice.
But, like many less photogenic junkies, the deck was stacked against him
from the beginning. His father, a filmmaker, introduced him to marijuana
when he was six. "We thought it was cute to let him smoke it and all," his
father has said. "It was an idiot move on our part."

But that's Hollywood, where pimps and pushers wear Armani and win awards
and where drugs are everywhere for fun and leverage, a way of getting close
to the star, of getting the star to do what you want them to do.

Coincidently, Downey's arrest was eclipsed this week by other entertainment
industry drug news as Aaron Sorkin, the creator of The West Wing, was
charged with possession of cocaine. Sorkin was believed to have kicked his
freebase cocaine addiction in the mid-1990s; indeed, he has said his
recovery informed subplots on the show about the prison-versus-treatment
debate, which have been lauded. In fact, in February, he was honoured by
Phoenix House, a New York non-profit provider of treatment for substance abuse.

Like Sorkin, Downey has been a functioning addict. "It certainly hasn't
hurt his acting," said director James Toback, who directed Downey in Black
and White, The Pick-Up Artist and Two Girls and a Guy, movies not exactly
enshrined in the collective cinematic imagination.

He is also a gentle addict; his behaviour has hurt only himself -- and, of
course, the people who love him and the studios that have insured him. He
should be seen as a reminder that drug addiction is a medical problem too
often confused with a criminal problem.

Downey, who was first arrested in 1996 for possession of cocaine, heroin
and an unloaded .357 Magnum, was thrown in jail in 1999 as a last resort.
As a remedy, it didn't work, which should come as a surprise to no one.

In a bid to try to make sense of it, there has even been inane musing in
the press that his role on Ally McBeal, a show that celebrates narcissism
and non-delayed gratification, contributed to his current situation. As
Ally put it on this week's show: "My life is about my wants." Later, when
someone chastises her for living only in the moment, she responds by
whining: "But what's wrong with now?"

"Now," of course, is Hollywood's only time zone. It will be interesting to
see how long sympathy for Downey plays out now that he's in the industry's
no man's land -- in limbo between redemption as a recovered addict and
fodder for an HBO movie like Gia, which chronicled the rise and death of a
top model turned junkie.

Downey seems to understand his problem better than anyone. "I'm not a movie
star," he said after his arrest in November. "I'm a guy with a drug
problem." Sadly, Hollywood doesn't have a script for that scenario.