Robert Redford’s movie star competition in the 1970s was powerful: Paul Newman, Burt Reynolds, and, of course, Clint Eastwood. But one of the reasons Redford stood out was that he was widely considered the first true blond movie star.
Pre-Redford male movie stars were tall, dark, and handsome, with a manly gravitas. Redford had the perfect golden head of ‘70s feathered blond hair, but his personality nonetheless carried the tall, dark, and handsome gravitas. And nobody in the mustachioed ’70s wore the manly ’stache better than Redford.
He’s best-known for the role of the Sundance Kid in George Roy Hill’s “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Redford went on to found the iconic Sundance Film Festival.
Unfortunately, it’s content to remain mild fare, and while that’s understandable (how physical does an 82-year-old want to be?), it could have packed more of a punch. Eastwood’s “Unforgiven” comes to mind. Clint Eastwood’s been spoofing his aging process for quite a while now, while remaining gritty and current, to excellent effect.
It might be said, gauging by the roles of Sundance as well as Johnny Hooker in “The Sting,” that Redford’s strong suit was playing noble rogues and thieves. Not exactly Robin Hood, but just too restless and iconoclastic to play by society’s rules. Sprinkled with manly, quippy humor.
True Story
“The Old Man & the Gun” is more or less the true story of career criminal Forrest Tucker, first brought to the public’s attention by a New Yorker article, compliments of David Grann.Tucker (Redford) is in his twilight years in the early 1980s. He, like the Sundance Kid before him, loves to rob banks. But Tucker likes to do it with class, real smooth-like, with as little agita as possible: strolls in wearing a fedora, asks nicely for a loan, and when the bank manager asks what kind, flashes the gun and says, “This kind.” That’s the script and he’s sticking to it, bank after bank, state after state.
What’s Tucker do for fun between bank jobs? He mildly and respectfully hits on Jewel (Sissy Spacek), a retired horse lady, and she’s naturally quite charmed.
Likewise charmed is one John Hunt (Casey Affleck), a detective who can’t believe this old coot robbed a bank under his nose, while he himself was in it, and decides to take it personally—but in the venerable tradition of the lawman, with a twinkle in his eye and a grudging respect and affection for his adversary.
Old School
Everything here is geared to spotlight Redford’s swan song, taking advantage of the time period (close to the ‘70s) so as to take advantage of Redford’s most memorable time, a time of lengthy sideburns and hair, mustaches, and big-boat-type ’70s gas-guzzler cars.The dialogue at one point captures, more or less, Brad Pitt’s speech as a petty thief, explaining how he plies his craft, in “Thelma & Louise.” Which is kind of a neat trick considering Pitt was seen as the new Redford when he broke big. Other examples of old school are the 16mm “The Old Man & the Gun” was shot with.
It’s entirely Redford’s show, and it should be, but it’s still a shame not to have given Spacek more to do; likewise Affleck’s Hunt. Affleck is one of the most underrated actors today, and his character’s got a juicy backstory, what with his African-American wife Maureen (Tika Sumpter) and two biracial kids.
The biggest shame of all is to have Tom Waits in a film and basically give him nothing to do. Tom Waits is endlessly fascinating as a movie star, singer-songwriting rock star, and gritty Americana-radiating eccentric. And Danny Glover—I’m thinking, “What did Danny do?” And I can’t think of anything Danny did. That’s also a little bit sad.
I blame the movie’s general blandness on the soundtrack. It’s one step away from 1970s elevator and dentist office music: jazz lite with liberal use of snare-drum brushes. Too much of the 1970s is never a good thing. Maybe what it was meant to do was capture the exact same feel of “Butch Cassidy,” which had the egregious choice of B.J. Thomas’s song “Raindrops Keep Fallin‘ on My Head,” a straight-to-Muzak ’70s-pop tune that was the one glaring misfire of that Western.
Too much of Redford here at the expense of the talent surrounding him highlights how less could have been much more. It also fails to be truly, captivatingly romantic, allowing the thought: “But isn’t this really just a story about a geriatric, compulsive kleptomaniac?”
But that said—what a run. I’ve personally watched “Butch Cassidy” at least 30 times, and that’s not just because back in the ‘70s there wasn’t much product and movies hunkered in theaters for months. All hail the Sundance Kid!
