porting the same combination of star power and dedication that Tobey Maguire brought to Spider-Man and Christian Bale brought to Batman, Robert Downey Jr. fires on all cylinders as the billionaire bon vivant in Iron Man - the fast, funny flick based on Marvel Comics' self-made superhero.

The actor's real-life troubles merge, oddly enough, seamlessly with those of Iron Man's alter ego, industrialist playboy Tony Stark, the head of Stark Industries, which supplies weapons to the US government. Both men were notoriously damaging their own lives, and both men had an epiphany, cleaned up their acts on the spot. The result is indeed riveting.

When the movie begins, well-manicured Stark is introduced via close-up of his hand, cradling a tumbler of Scotch on the rocks, as he rides in the back seat of a Humvee rumbling across the Afghanistan desert. Our high-living death merchant appears to be reaping the benefits of a warring world, jet-setting from one hot spot on the globe to another. He lives in a Malibu villa with a panoramic view of the Pacific. His garage is stocked with hot cars, his bed with hotter ladies. On his private jet are flight attendants who do double duty as mile-high pole-dancers.

While in Afghanistan to give a demonstration, he is captured by anti-American guerillas who force him to build them a super weapon from a cache of captured munitions.