Two Robert Redford films worth revisiting: “The Electric Horseman” and "The Hot Rock"
A closer look at 1979 romantic comedy and the 1972 comedic heist
I suspect many have been revisiting Robert Redford’s filmography in recent days. Scanning his long list of credits, I don’t think anyone would call 1979's "The Electric Horseman" a must-see. Fewer are likely aware that 1972’s “The Hot Rock” even exists. Let’s change that, shall we?
Up first …
“The Electric Horseman”
For some reason “The Electric Horseman” was the one I wanted to rewatch in the first days after Redford’s death last week. It reunites him with Jane Fonda, 12 years after they starred together in "Barefoot in the Park.” Directed by Sydney Pollack, it was on HBO countless times when I was a kid and it made an impression.
A romantic comedy and road movie (mostly on foot) wherein opposites attract, he plays a golden boy-turned-loser who finally decides to claw back some of his dignity. When we meet him, he's a former rodeo star named Sonny Steele, who makes his living as spokesman for a cereal brand. He travels the country with a small entourage of two grizzled guys (one of whom is played by Willie Nelson) and the gig involves little more than riding in on a horse and holding a box of cereal aloft while wearing a tacky, purple sequined cowboy costume that lights up like a Christmas tree. Hence the movie's title. Usually the horse is draped in lights, too.
Even in the 70s, was an aging rodeo champ really enough of a celebrity to be mascot for a breakfast cereal? Would a cereal maker even spend money on this kind of thing? Well, who knows. The film was written by Paul Gaer and Robert Garland, the latter of whom also wrote the propulsively fun 1987 Kevin Costner thriller “No Way Out.”
As cereal pitchman, Sonny’s existence is boring and impersonal, and therefore depressing — he’s sold out, and at a time when selling out still had the sting of shame — which he mitigates with copious amounts of alcohol. “I was giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a bottle of tequila,” he jokes, explaining why he’s late to an event. Nelson’s character downplays the drinking, as well. “He’s just a cowboy. Sometimes he loses the best part of himself.” Sonny’s ex-wife is blunter, telling him with a mix of sadness and frustration that the only reason he’s still walking around upright is to save on funeral expenses.
The tour culminates at a trade show in Las Vegas, where a glamorous TV reporter from New York named Hallie Martin (Fonda) is informed by corporate PR that Sonny will not be available for interviews.
Huh, she thinks. What's up with that? (He’s too much of a drunk and therefore a liability.) Later, at a press conference, she ignores the no-interviews mandate and asks Sonny a few mild questions that get under his skin.
That’s the first crack.
At the evening’s big show, he’s supposed to ride a $12 million stallion onto the stage. During rehearsals (drink in hand, of course) he’s disturbed to see the horse is doped up and injured. “Your horse is stoned,” he tells the trainer, who doesn’t deny it. “How else are we gonna get him up here on stage with all these lights and everything?”
That’s the second crack. And then everything breaks apart.
That night, at the big performance, Sonny kidnaps the horse and rides him through the casino and then off into the Nevada desert. He intends to nurse the horse back to health, take him to Utah and then turn him loose. "This horse earned a better life, and I'm gonna try and see that he gets it."
Now he's a horse thief. And Hallie has a story.
(The movie is not easily accessible, so I’ll just say that I searched for the title and “full movie” and quickly found a link that works, but who knows how long that will exist.)
Sonny may have lost his way, but he’s a recognizable archetype: The lovable reprobate who is actually, at his core, a man of principle who is happiest when alone in wide, open spaces. It’s an appealing trope and few have embodied it better than Redford. Sonny falls for Hallie precisely because she’s so different from him and doesn’t pretend to be anyone that she isn’t. That, too, is deeply appealing. But really, what we’re watching are two actors who just really enjoy one another. Somehow Redford managed to conjure that with so many of his co-stars, from Fonda to Barbra Streisand to Meryl Streep to Paul Newman.
I think a big part of Redford’s appeal was that, as a person, he liked women — smart women, especially — and that always comes through in his performances. When Sonny says goodbye to his ex-wife in “The Electric Horseman,” he briefly caresses her cheek before walking away and it’s like, damn, Redford, you didn’t have to make such a throwaway moment land so hard.
He would have been considered attractive no matter the era, but 70s-era Redford was something else. Few pulled off the styles of that decade with his panache. Add in the cowboy affectations and you’ve got yourself a character who isn’t actually all that complicated, but so much fun to spend time with.
Somehow, after Sonny flees with the horse, Hallie tracks him down. He sends her packing. But a few days later, he changes his mind and decides to tell his side of the story. So she accompanies him on his misadventures as they transport the horse to safety. On foot. I keep emphasizing this detail because, when she arrives, she’s wearing high-heeled boots and a trim suede jacket. Bless costume designer Bernie Pollack (Sydney Pollack’s brother) for this choice, it’s perfect in its absurdity.
Spending so much time alone, they eventually succumb to their mutual, if wary, attraction.
"Lady, that horse is a champion and he's got a heart the size of a locomotive,” Sonny tells Hallie early on. “He's got more heart and more drive and more” — pauses — “soul than most people you'll ever know. And they're hanging lights all over him." He’s disgusted by what they’ve been doing to the horse. But also, by extension, what he’s let them do to him. He was a willing participant. Until now. There’s a good deal of self-loathing he’s looking to shed. He’s not just setting the horse free, he’s setting himself free.
The two-hour film loses some momentum in the back half, but redeems itself with a bittersweet ending. Sonny and Hallie don’t end up together, and why would they? He's a wanderer looking for simplicity and perhaps a small piece of redemption. She's got a high-powered job and she’s headed to Paris for her next assignment. She would never give up her career and he would never ask her to.
Nelson's "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys” plays under the film’s opening montage of promotional pit stops, and if you believe those are wise words to live by, Redford, the man, was such a wonderfully complicated exception.
“The Hot Rock”
I’d never seen this one, but apparently it’s a favorite of “Oceans 11” director Steven Soderbergh. I tracked down the little-known heist film from 1972 the same way I found (ahem) “The Electric Horseman.”
Written by William Goldman (who gave us “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and “All the President’s Men”) and directed by Peter Yates (“Bullitt” and “Breaking Away”) with a soundtrack by Quincy Jones, it was released in the UK with the far more descriptive (if less snappy) title “How to Steal a Diamond in Four Uneasy Lessons,” and it also stars George Segal, Ron Leibman, Paul Sand and Zero Mostel. As I’ve seen one person describe it: A very Jewish ensemble … and Redford. Ha!
It’s a “long way from being the perfect caper movie but, bless it, has two or three scenes good enough for any caper movie ever made,” Roger Ebert wrote in his review at the time of the movie’s release. “If you’re a pushover for caper movies, like I am, that will be enough.”
Redford plays career criminal John Dortmunder, a character who is the centerpiece of 14 comedic heist novels by Donald E. Westlake. (The movie is adapted from the first book in the series.) It’s an understatement to say Redford is a departure from the Dortmunder of the books; the latter is described as tall, with stooped shoulders and a hangdog face topped by "lifeless thinning hair-colored hair.” Redford was famously not-tall, and his hair was always luxuriously thick and he had the best highlights in the business! Well, look, I’m not complaining.
Segal plays his brother-in-law, Kelp, who gives Dortmunder a ride home after his latest stint in the clink. “So how was it?” Not bad: “I learned plumbing.” But surely a man of your talents can’t be a plumber. “You don’t have to worry yourself about my talents,” Dortmunder says firmly. “I’m not doing any more jobs with you.”
He will, in fact, do more jobs with him. Of course he will!
A priceless diamond called the Sahara Stone is on display in a New York museum, and the small (fictional) African nation from which it was stolen — the story of nearly all precious jewels in the West — wants it back, and offers the job to Dortmunder and his crew.
But before they can agree to terms, during a clandestine meeting in the park with their mysterious contact, Dr. Amusa (Moses Gunn), an old woman comes to feed the pigeons, interrupting their conversation with her cooing: “Come on, dearies, come and get it!” It’s a droll moment.
Dortmunder insists on expenses and a per diem on top of the $25,000 Amusa is willing to pay each man (I always like specificity about finances), and then he talks through the pros and cons involved. “The whole thing has got be a diversion job, and that’s good and that’s bad, because if the diversion’s too big, it’ll draw pedestrians, and if it’s not big enough, it won’t draw the night watchmen.”
Kelp will handle the lock-breaking. Leibman’s Murch is the getaway driver. Sand’s Alan Greenberg is the explosives man. They have talents, but they are also clowns, which is half their charm.
Redford is playing a smooth talker who is also cagey. He’s on his way to an ulcer. “Here,” his doctor says, tossing him some tablets. “Chew on these, keep ‘em handy, stock up at the drug store and I’ll give you some pills to go with it.” Also, avoid stress. Redford nearly rolls his eyes at that.
Dressed in phony security guard costumes, their first attempt hits a snag. Greenberg gets busted (but not before swallowing the stone), which necessitates the introduction of Zero Mostel as Greenberg’s lawyer (and father) and a plan to break him out of jail.
Guess what? There are more complications. Fearful that he’d be caught, Alan hid the stone at one point and determining its whereabouts becomes their next order of business. The initial job becomes a winding series of one caper necessitating another, involving a double-cross that somehow lands the diamond in a bank’s safe deposit box. How to get access? Dortmunder employs the services of a hypnotist to scam his way in.
The diamond finally in his pocket, he strides out slowly and deliberately, keeping his cool. But you know his heart is racing. He exits through a revolving door and a siren stops him in his tracks. It’s only a fire engine. Moments later, Dr. Amusa arrives. Dortmunder has just escaped before being seen by his not-so-trusthworthy employer.
As he walks further down the sidewalk, he visibly relaxes, unbuttoning his suit coat. There’s a bounce to his step — jogging as he crosses the street — a smile spreading across his face. He’s downright jaunty as a jazzy tune underscores his progress. And then he scoots into the getaway car — a station wagon that’s seen better days, emblazoned with the logo “Kelp’s Keys” — to cheers and laughter from his compatriots as they drive off.
Roll credits.
A terrific send off for these resourceful knuckleheads.
End note
Before Disney reversed its decision on indefinitely suspending the late-night talk show of Jimmy Kimmel, which saw him return to the air on Tuesday, my colleague at the Tribune, sports columnist Paul Sullivan, wrote about Illinois Governor J.B. Pritzker urging a boycott of “several networks after Disney-owned ABC suspended ‘Jimmy Kimmel Live!’ over jokes Kimmel made about President Donald Trump. The suspension came following moves by Nexstar Media Group Inc. and Sinclair Broadcasting to preempt or suspend the late-night talk show on their affiliates, and after pressure from the FCC to take action against Kimmel.”
(Sinclair owns the Diamond Sports Group, which owns 50% of Marquee Sports Network, which is the current TV home of the Cubs. The other half is owned by the Ricketts family, who also own the Cubs.)
Here’s what Paul wrote:
Free speech is certainly something to fight for, and Pritzker is right about the urgency of preserving our constitutional rights … But I can’t imagine viewers would stop watching their favorite teams and sports over Kimmel’s plight, so perhaps we need to come up with another solution.
Boycott “Dancing with the Stars?” No problem. Give up “Good Morning, America,” which has turned into an infomercial for Hulu, Disney and ESPN shows? Easy enough.
But boycott the Alabama-Georgia game Sept. 27 or the rematch of the Bears-Commanders “Hail Mary” game in October?
Will football fans tune out big games to support free speech?
You can read Paul’s full column here.
I think he’s right to be skeptical about what people are willing to give up. But I also think it’s worth talking about boycotts with more clarity.
Boycott, don't boycott … you're an adult and can decide what you think is the right choice.
However: "I would, but I [or my kids] want to watch [XYZ]" is a silly argument!
A boycott comes with inconvenience. That's baked in. You have to decide what's most important to you.
Like I said, I don’t think Paul’s cynicism is unwarranted. I’m sure some people think depriving themselves of professional sports is a bridge too far, as if they were being asked to forgo a life-saving medication. I think we can respect fan enthusiasm without accepting that kind of hyperbole, yes? Do media companies and the owners of sports teams take fan interest for granted, as if we’re all a bunch of big dummies, too addicted to league lore to make any other choice?
Sports can be an enjoyable distraction to our stressful lives. Athletes are physical marvels, forever dazzling and disappointing us with their talents. It’s easy — pleasurable — to get swept up in that. I get it.
But there are probably other things that can bring a person joy as well, and it’s never a bad time to explore what some of those may be.
There will, no doubt, be other instances down the line where boycotts are an option. They are one of the only ways individuals can meaningfully and collectively convey a message to conglomerates relying on a constant influx of consumers giving over their time and money no matter what. No matter what? That’s a big ask! There’s no guarantee any boycott will have its intended effect. But it is communication.
I’ll close out with this post from BlueSky:
Disney adults canceling subscriptions, vacations, etc. really are making the Harry Potter adults that threw a fit over a $60 video game look like huge bitches.