Justin Theroux’s Great Escape
“Oh man, this . . . I’m so sorry, but this is fucking crazy. It’s just … It’s so compelling.” Justin Theroux is halfway through answering a question about the price of fame before he raises his eyebrows, and, as surreptitiously as humanly possible, turns his head to glance at the person behind us. We’re sitting outside a Sullivan Street cafe within spitting distance of the 49-year-old writer-actor’s apartment, on what feels like the first real spring day New York has had in eons. He’s wearing his “uniform,” a signature Theroux-chic mix of stylishly scuffed leather...