Just about my favorite American actor is starring in the biggest blockbuster of the summer (ok, other than You-know-who in the Kingdom of You-know-what). It’s Iron Man, of course, and while I appreciate a good comic book movie as well as the next guy, I really appreciate him in those smaller, quirky roles like tranny-loving Terry Crabtree in Wonder Boys or Harry Lockhart in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.

Whatever, I’m glad he’s turned his life around, for the moment, at least, and Rebecca Winters Keegan has an appreciation in Time:

Fifteen years after he was nominated for an Oscar for his uncanny portrayal of Charlie Chaplin and seven years after his last of several well-publicized trips to either rehab or jail, Downey, 43, is finally claiming the career he was always meant to have, one befitting a fiercely talented, eccentric and magnetic leading man. Later this summer, Downey will appear as an Australian Method actor who is overly committed to playing a black soldier in Ben Stiller’s raucous satire of filmmaking and war movies, Tropic Thunder. And in the fall comes another plum role, as a journalist who discovers a schizophrenic Juilliard violinist (Jamie Foxx) living on the streets of Los Angeles in Joe Wright’s drama The Soloist. Downey’s career feels a lot more than six years removed from 2002, when Woody Allen said he couldn’t afford to cast the unstable actor in Melinda and Melinda because it cost too much to insure him.

More power to him.

And now, for something completely related: