Farewell, Old Sport: Remembering Robert Redford
“Summer’s almost over. It’s sad, isn’t it? Makes you want to – I don’t know – reach out and hold it back.” – Jay Gatsby
“How do you do, old sport? I’m Gatsby.” Robert Redford as Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby (1974)
For many of us, Robert Redford was more than just a movie star — he was a legend. The literary aficionado in me will always love him as Jay Gatsby (oh, that smile — see the above photo), and I’ll forever remember the shattering of the stadium lights when Roy Hobbs hit the iconic home run at the end of The Natural. (Yes, yes — I am dating myself).
I also can’t hear Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major without images from Out Of Africa and Redford as Denys Finch Hatton playing in my head. The music still chokes me up — heck, I walked down the aisle to it.
However, it was his deep love of horses and prominence in iconic Westerns that made him stand out in the equestrian world. He was the rider we wished we could be, the quiet cowboy who seemed to understand the unspoken language between people and horses. His Westerns weren’t just films on a screen; they were stories that carried the smell of leather, the dust of an arena, and the kind of love that only horse people really understand.
Saddling Up With the West
From the first time I saw him in Tell Them Willie Boy Is Here, I believed him. I believed the way he handled the reins, the way he looked at the horizon like he’d been there before. It was never just about the chase or the grit — it was about the space between horse and rider, and the honesty that the Western landscape demanded.
In Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Redford saddled up alongside Paul Newman to redefine what a Western could be. As the Sundance Kid, he was sharp-eyed, quick on the draw, and just as unforgettable on horseback as he was in the iconic banter with Newman’s Cassidy. Their partnership gave us one of the most enduring duos in film history — equal parts grit, wit, and wild freedom — and cemented Redford as a cowboy legend whose rides across the big screen still echo today.
In The Electric Horseman, when Redford rode away under neon lights with that glowing horse, I couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just rebellion — it was a reminder that horses aren’t props, they’re partners. He made us all want to throw off the corporate halter and ride toward something more real, more free.
The Horse Whisperer: A Story for Horse People
But for me, and for so many of us, The Horse Whisperer was the moment Robert Redford became more than a star — he became a voice for horse lovers everywhere. As Tom Booker, he wasn’t flashy. He didn’t overpower a horse into obedience. He listened. He waited. He softened.
“Truth is, I help horses with people problems.”
That line still gives me chills. Because it’s true, isn’t it? Most of the time, the horse isn’t the one who needs fixing — we are.
Redford’s authenticity in The Horse Whisperer didn’t happen by accident. He worked with Buck Brannaman, a man whose quiet, thoughtful approach to horses has inspired countless riders. Watching Redford absorb and then reflect Brannaman’s philosophy on screen was like watching art meet horsemanship. It made the movie feel less like Hollywood and more like home.
Embed from Getty ImagesFamed horse trainer Buck Brannaman and director/actor Robert Redford work with a horse during the filming of “The Horse Whisperer” in 1997. (Photo by John Kelly/Getty Images)
Why He Mattered to Horse Lovers
Redford didn’t just ride horses on camera; he honored them. He gave them presence, respect, and space to be more than transportation or backdrop. He reminded us that the West isn’t only about shootouts and sunsets — it’s about connection, empathy, and the silent wisdom of a horse that will carry you farther than your own two legs ever could.
He’s famously quoted as saying, “There’s something meditative about communicating with horses, something instinctive where you eventually have to merge into one in order to move forward together.”
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Robert Redford leads his horse during the filming of “The Horse Whisperer” in 1997. (Photo by John Kelly/Getty Images)
Thank You, Cowboy
For horse girls and boys, for Western lovers, for anyone who ever brushed a mane or tightened a cinch and thought about what it all meant — Robert Redford was one of us. He made us believe in the cowboy’s quiet strength, in the poetry of the open range, and in the healing that comes from standing beside a horse. He gave voice to that thing we’ve all felt in our time with horses: “I get on a horse and ride for three, four hours. Sometimes five. I get lost.”
His trail rides across the silver screen weren’t just entertainment; they were reminders of who we are and who we want to be when we stand in the barn at dawn, breathing in hay and horse sweat, hoping to live with the same kind of honesty.
Thank you, Robert Redford, for the rides, the lessons, and the way you taught us that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to whisper.
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Robert Redford sits on his horse during the filming of “The Horse Whisperer” in 1997. (Photo by John Kelly/Getty Images)
