Hollywood's bad boy emeritus talks about his ties to John Gotti, blowing his career, and the bitch who split his lip

The first paragraph of any story written about Mickey Rourke since 1990 can be summarized in three words: He fucked up. The actor, whose raw, magnetic performances in films like Rumble Fish, Barfly, Diner, and Angel Heart once drew comparisons to Brando, knows this better than anyone. He fucked up. And he'll let you know it twenty times in the course of an hour. In those dark years, Rourke tormented directors and producers and led the kind of private life that would make your average Serbian gangster feel like a pansy. There were reports of drug abuse and domestic violence, and the constant company of strippers and lowlives—but mostly there were his ties to a criminal underworld most Hollywood actors only experience on camera. Rourke knew John Gotti well enough to attend his murder trial in 1992, but his only statement about their friendship until now has been "No comment." In an interview with Radar, Rourke, 50, finally opens up about the mob ties, tells us how he met his Chihuahua soul mate, and pinpoints the moment he realized he was completely insane.

RADAR: You've said your favorite among your films is The Pope of Greenwich Village. It's kind of like Little Italy's version of
Midnight Cowboy.
MICKEY ROURKE: We shot that back when there was actually a Little Italy. Which, you know, there really isn't anymore.

Since it's become a theme park?
Well, right. The Italians don't live there now. You can have a pizza, but that's about it. It was nice back then because you had all the old timers. Stuart [Rosenberg] was able to capture that ambiance using good old-time actors. Tony Musante and other guys. It was probably the most fun I've had on a movie.

Did you get to know the neighborhood pretty well?
Well, let's put it this way: I made certain associations with people. I met some really interesting, shady characters that I maintained relationships with until I went to therapy. But I don't want to get into that too much.

Understood. You've been very diligent about the therapy though, haven't you?
Yeah. It was something that I was totally against. But, Jesus, I needed to go. I knew I was a little out there, but I didn't realize my shit was crazy till my doctor told me. Listen, I changed. But there is still something inside of me that is never going to change. If those buttons are pushed, all hell is still going to break loose.

Since you returned to acting, there's lots of discussion about whether you're "reformed." Do you ever feel like people just want you to become a boring schlub?
People see that whatever-you-want-to-call-it in me and it scares a lot of them. But if I have that in me and I'm not putting my hand through someone's head, then they should chill the fuck out. The guys who are afraid are the ones who were around when I was just starting out. The younger directors like Rodriguez and Aronofsky that I'm working with now aren't afraid of it. I also just recently got offered a Tarantino movie that I didn't—that I chose not to do.

After turning down Pulp Fiction, why did you pass up the opportunity to work with Tarantino on his latest project, Grindhouse?

You know what? He hasn't made any comments about it. And until he makes a comment about it, I'm not going to say anything. It just didn't work out. And I hope that's what he has to say. I'm just going to wait.

Do you still feel drawn to outlaw characters like Tupac?
Yeah. Tupac and I had a lot in common, even though we were very fucking different. You know, I don't come from the hip-hop world. But we both had a certain upbringing.

Have you heard about John Gotti's prison uniform? Somebody's giving it away in postage-stamp-sized squares.
So, I guess you know that we were friends. Is that right?

There's been speculation.
You know what? I had a relationship with John that was like—if I wanted to do research on that lifestyle, or whatever you want to call it, he was there for me. You know what I'm saying?

Sure.
I'll give you an example. We were watching a soccer game one time during the World Cup, and Italy and Ireland were playing. I said, "John"—because he, you know, liked to gamble—I said, "I'll take Ireland." And Italy was favored up the ass, right? But Ireland ended up winning the fucking game. And before that I said to John, "What do you want to bet? Ten grand? Whatever? Whatever you want to do." He says, "No, no. I'm never going to take your money. Let's bet watches." Right? I'll tell you something. His friends came over three weeks later and brought me the most beautiful fucking watch I've ever seen. Autographed, "To Mick, All the best. JG."

So he was a good friend?
Listen, I don't know what the fuck he did behind closed doors. But the fact that he goes, "I'm not gonna take your money"—see, because I was supposed to lose that fucking bet. I would have bought him a really nice watch, but it probably would have been $10,000 less than the one he bought me.

So that was part of your research?
What I'm trying to say to you is, back when I was a lot younger and doing Pope, I was very, very interested in that lifestyle. You know? Very curious about that whole world. He opened doors you don't fucking want to walk into. Let me tell you something, brother, it wasn't all roses.

It sounds like you got gored by Sammy the Bull.
[Long pause] No.

In any case, you had a Catholic background in common with those guys.
Yeah, I'm Irish and French.

The practicing Catholics I know are either traditionalists or they've had a religious experience. What's the draw for you?
It's changed a lot for me. I went to Catholic school for a few years with the nuns and all that stuff. It goes way deep in your brain when they crack you on the knuckles with a ruler. But there were times when my younger brother was very ill and he was supposed to die, and my grandmother told me what saint to pray to. Each time he was supposed to die, he ended up living. So it became something in my life that was very important to me. Every few years Joe would get sick and—bing!—it would be right back to the saint.

But that changed at some point?
He died a year and a half ago. That's why I say that stuff was a part of my life. I've had a hard time with my beliefs because of the way he died [cancer] and how he suffered. Having my kid brother die in my arms and just seeing the life go out of him, it was ... it was ... Joey was my younger brother. The way my mind works, your kid brother isn't supposed to die first.

Does the suffering in your own life incline you to reach out to the less fortunate?
The only thing I do in that area is work with rescued dogs in shelters, try and find them homes. Mainly Chihuahuas.

You and Chihuahuas. What's the attraction?

I always had big dogs. Then my [ex-] wife brought home a Chihuahua. It had a cough that night. I remember going down to the kitchen and sleeping with the dog, holding her. I felt bad for her. Man, that was sixteen years ago, and I've had Chihuahuas ever since. Here's how I got my dog Jaws: I went down to the animal rescue place in L.A. They have all these dogs that they're going to put to sleep because they're all products of incest—fucked up that way. They're all violent bitches. I picked this dog up to look at him, and he bit me on the lip. There was blood all over the place and stuff—it needed stitches. Swollen out to here. Then I saw the name on the cage was Little Mickey. I couldn't believe it. I looked at him and said, "Motherfucker...." Then I turned to the lady and said, "I'll take him." What really got to me though ... he would sit in the chair across the room from my bed. All the other dogs would be in my bed and then about two in the morning, he would scream. I thought, What the fuck?

What do you think was the problem?
See, these damaged dogs—they're like people. I know damn well when I look in this dog's eyes that somebody abused him—beat the fuck out of this little guy for years. I know about that stuff from my own life. But he's not even that little. He's the most muscular Chihuahua you've ever seen.

Do you have him on 'roids?
No, but he looks like a mini pit bull. And he's got the biggest fucking teeth for a Chihuahua.

So the dogs are your support system?
I come home and I've got five dogs here, and they've all got different personalities. It's almost like I've got a—almost like five friends I come home to. I've lived alone for almost ten years, and it's really nice. As much as they need me, I need them.

One of your most famous roles is Henry Chinaski in Barfly. How was that film to make?
The director [Barbet Schroeder] was kind of an asshole, but the project was very interesting. Bukowski was on the set. I liked Charlie. Charlie was cool with me. I was never a Bukowski fanatic or anything. I did enjoy reading a few of his books, but, you know, it wasn't like he was Tennessee Williams to me.

Bukowski and Williams were both big drinkers. You never were, right?

Well, no. My father died from drinking at 47 years old. His brothers died from drinking in their thirties and forties. My grandpa and his father in their late thirties. I didn't want to make a movie about anything having to do with drinking or glorifying it. The director kept chasing me around for 12 months, and I kept saying no. I just wasn't interested in the material. I didn't even know who Bukowski was, to tell you the truth. But I read a couple of his books, and when I didn't have a project I gave it some thought and ended up doing it.

Who was a better Chinaski—Matt Dillon in Factotum, or you?
I haven't seen that movie.

We should talk about Stormbreaker, this new kids' movie you're in....
Aw, God. Oh. I was afraid of that. Well, I can say that I liked being in London. It was almost like, Should I just hang out in London and raise hell, or should I go to work a couple days a week?

Make some money.
Exactly.

You play a billionaire in the mold of a James Bond villain. You dress in silk, walk with a very elegant cane, and keep a toothpick in your mouth. I'm guessing the toothpick was your touch?
I don't really work with wardrobe people—I like to do it myself. The toothpick I didn't remember till you brought it up. Yeah, I wanted the toothpick. And I'll tell you where the cane came from: Two weeks before the movie started, I had my appendix taken out, and I was really weak because they had to do it twice—

Take your appendix out twice? That sucks.
And I couldn't walk either. I was in the hospital, and I'm thinking, Aw, fuck, I've gotta go to work in two weeks. I started walking with a cane. Then I read the script and thought, Might as well keep it.

You were definitely the high point of the movie.
I knew before I did this movie that I was going to work with John Madden on Killshot [based on the Elmore Leonard novel]. I think that movie is the best work I've done for 15 years. Fucking guy is just incredible to work with. So I felt like it was okay to just have fun doing this other thing. But, I mean, I don't want to knock it. That would be Old Mickey.

Stormbreaker is now in theaters. Killshot is scheduled for a spring '07 release.