In an era marked by disinformation, misinformation, and contentious political divisions, it seems almost inconceivable to imagine a figure who was a truly brilliant movie star, leveraging his charisma, clout, and wealth to support emerging filmmakers, safeguard the natural environment from exploitation, and demonstrate how cinema could both mirror and influence American identity. Yet, such was Robert Redford, who passed away on September 16 at 89 years old. Redford’s extensive career saw him engage with every facet of the film industry as an actor, producer, and director. Fundamentally, however, he was a communicator—an artist capable of conveying meaning beyond spoken language, often with merely a subtle smile. Even so, as both an artist and an individual, he possessed an magnetism that made people naturally inclined to listen, to desire to hear his words. Redford’s multitude of achievements suggests he lived more than one life within his 89 years.
As a child in Los Angeles before the advent of vaccines, Redford contracted polio. While not severe enough to necessitate an iron lung, his recovery required weeks of bed rest. As a treat, his mother brought him to Yosemite National Park. He once recounted that journey, describing the family car exiting a tunnel to reveal the park’s breathtaking natural grandeur. He remarked, “The entire magical beauty of that area—it looks like it was sculpted by God.” Later, during his teenage years, he spent three summers working at Yosemite, though he wasn’t exactly an exemplary youth. In high school, he associated with a rebellious group and was reportedly seen reading Mad magazine at the back of the auditorium during his graduation ceremony.
He initially aspired to be a painter, and by 19, he had accumulated sufficient funds for a year-long sojourn in Europe, which he described as “on the bum.” While he maintained his artistic pursuits of painting and drawing throughout his life, this trip also profoundly shaped him by broadening his understanding of politics, nature, and global perspectives. He pursued art studies—with a particular focus on animation—at the University of Colorado at Boulder. However, by the late 1950s, his path shifted towards acting. He launched his career in television and theater, achieving his breakthrough with Neil Simon’s 1963 play Barefoot in the Park, a role he later reprised alongside Jane Fonda in the 1967 film adaptation.
Following this, an exhaustive enumeration of Redford’s achievements would require an immensely long document. His inaugural directorial effort, Ordinary People (1980), garnered four Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director. Subsequently, as a director, he adapted Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It (1992) and explored the 1950s quiz show scandal in Quiz Show (1994). As an actor, Redford thoughtfully selected roles, frequently choosing those that touched upon the ironies of American politics and its susceptibility to corruption. Notable among these were Michael Ritchie’s 1972 satire The Candidate, and, famously, Alan J. Pakula’s exceptional 1976 true-story journalism drama All the President’s Men, where he portrayed reporter Bob Woodward, who, with Carl Bernstein (played by Dustin Hoffman), exposed the Watergate scandal. Redford’s professional trajectory appeared guided by the conviction that the finest American characteristics—perhaps best characterized as straightforward, modest integrity—could triumph over corruption and dishonesty. Not content with only acting, producing, and directing, he also established the , founded in 1981 to support independent filmmakers in reaching broader audiences. In 1985, he broadened Sundance’s scope by assuming control of the former United States Film and Video Festival, leading to the creation of the Sundance Film Festival.
While all these achievements are undeniably remarkable and commendable, simply itemizing Redford’s lifelong accomplishments does not fully capture his unique talents. Witnessing Redford on screen—be it in The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or the solo tour-de-force All Is Lost, where he delivered possibly his most outstanding later performance—is to be enveloped by an undeniable, magnetic presence. Sydney Pollack’s 1973 film The Way We Were explored political ideals against the backdrop of McCarthyism and the Hollywood Blacklist. Indeed it did, but it also captivated audiences, both young and old, in 1973 with its enchanting romantic narrative. This isn’t a trivial aspect; it’s a significant one, particularly when considering the profound impact actors can have. The gaze Redford’s character, Hubbell Gardiner, bestows upon his long-separated love, Katie Morosky (portrayed by Barbra Streisand), during an unexpected encounter on a New York street, articulates a profound blend of mature regret and yearning, recognizing that every correct decision often entails a sacrifice. It’s a somber look that communicates, “You cannot possess everything”—a truth that holds even in cinema, the medium where, for the last century, we have frequently sought to see ourselves reflected. Redford’s expression conveyed absolute sincerity.
This authenticity extended beyond his cinematic work. In our conversation, Redford emphasized the critical need for those seemingly intent on destruction—not just of physical assets, but of the fundamental values that we, as imperfect individuals, cherish. We strive for generosity when selfishness is simpler, and for conservation when destruction and consumption are more convenient. He stated, “I believe you must hold onto hope, as it is your sole means of survival.” He added, “Presently, hope feels more vital than ever, given how bleak circumstances appear. Should you succumb to that sentiment, you become part of the issue.” He articulated this message with profound clarity. Now that he has passed, these words resonate deeply.
