Showing posts with label Robert Redford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Redford. Show all posts

Saturday, September 26, 2026

1980: Ordinary People.

Calvin Jarrett (Donald Sutherland) and his son Conrad (Timothy Hutton).
Calvin Jarrett (Donald Sutherland) and his son Conrad (Timothy Hutton)
navigate the messy aftermath of a tragedy.

Release Date: Sept. 19, 1980. Running Time: 124 minutes. Screenplay: Alvin Sargent. Based on the Novel by: Judith Guest. Producer: Ronald L. Schwary. Director: Robert Redford.


THE PLOT:

Conrad Jarrett (Timothy Hutton) spent four months in a mental hospital following a suicide attempt, brought on by guilt at surviving the boating accident that claimed the life of his brother, Buck. Conrad is now back at home and at school. His parents, Calvin (Donald Sutherland) and Beth (Mary Tyler Moore), are determined to pretend as if everything is absolutely normal, and Conrad strives to follow their lead.

Except everything isn't normal. Conrad tells his new therapist, Dr. Berger (Judd Hirsch), that anytime he feels anything, he only feels lousy. He and his mother are unable to communicate at all, and she seems to resent his mere presence. Calvin attempts to keep the family together the only way he knows how: by defusing or ignoring every point of conflict.

And as the tension escalates, all three of them find themselves increasingly emotionally adrift...

Calvin and his wife, Beth (Mary Tyler Moore), at the theatre.
Calvin and his wife, Beth (Mary Tyler Moore), at the theater.
Calvin's reactions set the tone for his entire character arc.

CHARACTERS:

Calvin: He is introduced having a miserable time being bored by an awful play. But after the show, he holds his own opinion back - and on seeing that his wife and friends enjoyed it, he pretends that he agrees. This marks his approach to pretty much everything. He avoids any hint of conflict, seemingly believing that everything will be fine as long as no actual arguing happens. The clearer it becomes that this isn't true, the more lost he seems. Sutherland excels at showing Calvin bottling up emotions behind a surface-level affability, a surface that inevitably cracks.

Beth: I've seen Conrad's mother labeled as a narcissist, but I think that's too simple. There are moments in which she tries to reach out to Conrad, and other bits in which we see her blindsided by her own pain. But she only shows her pain when alone, and even then only for a few seconds at a time. She declares that the family should deal with its problems in the privacy of their own home - but she doesn't even want to deal with it then, so it breaks through at the worst possible moments. Mary Tyler Moore's casting is brilliant. An actress known for playing the perfect wife and mother is cast as someone whose insistence on projecting exactly that image ends up making her the villain of the story.

Conrad: Calvin muses that people thought the outgoing Buck was more like Beth, but that he knows it's actually Conrad who takes after her. He's right. When Dr. Berger asks why he's decided to start therapy, Conrad tells him that he wants to be more in control - the same goal that Beth seeks to apply to her life. He blames himself for the family's current situation, even as he resents his parents - His mother for her coldness toward him, and his father for refusing to see the way their family has changed. Timothy Hutton's Oscar winning performance is excellent. In his early scenes with Berger, he shifts in his chair and fidgets, seeming uncomfortable in his own skin. In other moments, he stares off into space, getting lost in the past.

Dr. Berger: "A little advice about feelings... Don't expect it always to tickle." The psychiatrist urges Conrad to experience his own feelings, telling the boy that he's "not a big fan of control." When Conrad starts snapping angrily at him, Berger encourages him, actively applauding as his patient hurls invectives. Judd Hirsch, best known as a comedy actor, gives a restrained performance, though a few wry deliveries provide moments of levity. The climactic final session between Berger and Conrad delivers both in terms of emotion and drama.

Jeanine: A young Elizabeth McGovern plays Conrad's love interest, a pretty student in his choir class who clearly nurses a major crush on him. When he finally works up the courage to ask her on a date, she happily agrees. The date happens at a bowling alley, even though she warns that she's a terrible bowler. She's the first person outside the hospital to ask about his suicide attempt, and he seems relieved to have someone his own age to talk to about it... though he becomes upset when a group of enthusiastic boys disrupts their conversation and Jeanine laughs at their antics.

Karen: Dinah Manoff makes an indelible impression in a single scene. She was a fellow patient at the hospital, and her friendship clearly meant a lot to Conrad. She arrives for their lunch together smiling and enthusiastic, appearing at first glance to have her life together. As they talk, the mask slips. She seems unable to sit still, and she evades any conversation about therapy or even of their time at the hospital. She says she stopped seeing doctors because "the only one who can help you is you," parroting her father's words - and Beth's own declaration that the family should resolve its problems in the privacy of their own home. By the time their lunch ends, it's clear that despite her smiles, she's actually in far worse shape than Conrad.

Conrad has an intense therapy session with Dr. Berger (Judd Hirsch).
Conrad has an emotionally intense therapy session with Dr. Berger (Judd Hirsch).

ORDINARY PEOPLE VS. RAGING BULL:

It's become all but accepted wisdom that when Ordinary People won Best Picture of 1980, that represented a snub to Martin Scorsese's more deserving Raging Bull. Well, at the risk of getting myself thrown into movie fan jail... I don't necessarily agree.

Raging Bull is the more artistic film, certainly, and Scorsese's direction has a rawness that wrings everything from that script. Even so, I find more emotional resonance in Ordinary People. I also find Robert Redford's direction to be just as perfectly suited to this story as Scorsese's was to his film. The color palette is mostly muted, and Redford favors stationary shots over camera moves.

Even on the rare occasions that the camera does move, it glides forward or back with a slowness that seems designed to avoid drawing attention. Images aren't flashy, but the framing is precise. In short, the movie's overall look reflects the emotional states of the characters - muted, cautious, polished, repressed. I find the result to be highly effective.

Honestly, I think either movie would have been an equally suitable choice. But at a time when changing family dynamics had become a mainstream concern, Ordinary People was timed better to pick up the award. As I noted in my last Best Picture review, it is no coincidence that Kramer vs. Kramer and this film were back-to-back winners.

Beth reacts to Calvin's turmoil.
Beth reacts to Calvin's emotional turmoil.

OTHER MUSINGS:

Like Kramer vs. Kramer, this is a movie that improves upon its (very good) source material. Unlike Kramer, changes from the book are few and minor. Screenwriter Alvin Sargent inserts a couple of new scenes, such as a strained family photo, and he wisely prunes side stories (notably reducing Jeanine's role) to focus on the family. However, the new material slips seamlessly into the novel's structure, and much of the dialogue is word-for-word from the book.

The movie is elevated by several small visual touches. Beth, a completely remote figure in the novel, has flashes in which we see her reactions - walking into Buck's room for a moment, or stealing a glance at her husband after an argument, or zoning out while Christmas shopping. There's also the way Calvin bends and hunches, actor Donald Sutherland using his height to show a man who subconsciously tries to make himself smaller to defer to others.

Speaking of Sutherland, he was the only of the four main actors who was not nominated for an Oscar, in what I think is a staggering snub. The same year that Jack Lemmon was nominated for doing a bog standard "Jack Lemmon performance" in Tribute, Sutherland's powerful and authentic work here was passed over. It's an example of one of the Academy's worst tendencies with acting nominations: Restrained performances consistently get overlooked in favor of showy ones.

Dr. Berger's "not a big fan of control," and both book and movie emphasize the importance of giving emotions freedom. The prevailing view of the time is Beth's: Maintain a calm and pleasant surface, and save (or ignore) drama when safely behind closed doors. But the family is at its most ordered in the early scenes, and we can see that all three are miserable, individually and as a group.

It's only when Calvin and Conrad start to express themselves that they become stronger. Calvin interrogates his wife about why she changed his wardrobe on the day of Buck's funeral: "We were going to our son's funeral, and you were worried about what I wore on my feet." After that scene, he begins to stand straighter. Meanwhile, despite a couple of blow-ups, Conrad genuinely enjoys his new relationship with a potential girlfriend. It's Beth, who tries to bury her feelings, who is in the most pain as the story closes, with her final, wordless scene showing her looking on the brink of collapse. A silent and solitary collapse, of course, because reacting in front of others would be messy.

A family photo turns into a moment of tension.
A family photo turns into a moment of unexpected tension.

OVERALL:

Robert Redford's first film as director married a restrained and precise visual approach with the emotional repression of its characters. The story itself has aged well. The film may have been released at a time when the public was particularly concerned about changing family dynamics, but the material will always be relevant, from the different ways people deal (or fail to deal) with strong emotion, to survivor's guilt, to the impact on a family of parental favoritism.

The performances are uniformly excellent, and screenwriter Alvin Sargent is wise enough to retain the structure and even much of the dialogue of the novel, with his handful of new scenes fitting seamlessly within the story. The family and its issues feel authentic and relatable, and the film carries emotional weight as a result.


Rating: 9/10.

Best Picture - 1979: Kramer vs. Kramer
Best Picture - 1981: Chariots of Fire (not yet reviewed)

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Tuesday, July 29, 2025

1973: The Sting.

Con artists Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman) and Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford), with their hands raised.
Con artists Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman) and Johnny
Hooker (Robert Redford) find themselves in a sticky situation...

Release Date: Dec. 25, 1973. Running Time: 129 minutes. Written by: David S. Ward. Producer: Tony Bill, Michael Phillips, Julia Phillips. Director: George Roy Hill.


THE PLOT:

Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) is a talented small-time grifter who has learned from the best around in his Depression-era tenement: aging con artist Luther Coleman (Robert Earl Jones). After they swindle an unsuspecting mark out of $11 thousand, Luther decides it's time to retire, urging Hooker to use his talents to work "the big con."

Then disaster strikes. Their mark was actually working for a numbers running operation, and he was delivering that money to the ruthless Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw). Soon Luther is dead, and Hooker is left on the run - and with a burning desire to avenge his murdered mentor.

He looks up Luther's old friend, Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman). Once a master confidence man, Gondorff is now hiding from the FBI after a job gone wrong. But he still has his skills, knowledge, and contacts, and Lonnegan has enough wealth to be a tempting target... as long as they can pull off a con that will not only part the criminal with his money, but also keep him fooled so that he doesn't go after them.

With Gondorff's circle of veteran con men assisting, it doesn't take long to set a scheme in motion. But complications await: A corrupt cop (Charles Durning) nurses a grudge against Hooker; an FBI agent (Dana Elcar) is closing in on Gondorff; and Lonnegan's hit men are getting ever nearer. The smart thing to do would be to call the whole thing off - but that's the one thing Hooker isn't willing to do, regardless of the consequences.

Hooker and Lonnegan (Robert Shaw).
Hooker baits Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw).

CHARACTERS:

Gondorff: "Revenge is for suckers. I've been grifting thirty years, I never got any." By this point in his career, Paul Newman was moving toward character roles. He doesn't so much act the role of Gondorff as inhabit him, which perfectly suits the way the script treats the character. The viewer is never told who Gondorff is, but is instead left to observe him. What we see is a sort of grifter general, assigning roles to the various soldiers in his team. He watches events unfold, making notes about what problems will need solved. He's an excellent judge of character. He senses Lonnegan's weakness is his pride, and he exploits that by repeatedly insulting and belittling him over the game of poker that is the con's "hook." He also senses that Hooker isn't telling him everything, and he chides him for that: "You can't play your friends like marks."

Hooker: The main character, Hooker isn't a complete neophyte. He may be a small time grifter, but he's talented enough that Luther urges him to look up Gondorff. This makes him enough a part of the grifting world for it to be believable that he's a key part of the big con, but also enough of an outsider for Gondorff and his friends to relate exposition about their planned swindle to us through him. He's the character with the biggest emotional stake in the story. Gondorff was also Luther's friend, but he scorns the very idea of revenge, while Hooker is driven by a need to do something to Lonnegan, wanting to con him because "I don't know enough about killing to kill him."

Lonnegan: Robert Shaw is one of those mystifying cases of a great actor who appeared in multiple classics, and who somehow never won an Oscar. Lonnegan could have been a two-dimensional baddie, but Shaw puts layers into his malevolence. There's genuine menace in his glare, his growling voice, and even his movements, as if his every waking moment is a struggle to hold himself back from direct violence. Pride is his defining trait and his biggest weakness. This is a man who likely endured a plethora of insults in his youth, and he reacts angrily to even the suggestion of an insult now. He insists on killing Hooker less because he's worried about seeming vulnerable, even though that's the motive he claims, and more because he, himself, cannot abide the thought of having lost to "one lousy grifter."

Lt. Snyder: Actor Charles Durning would play variations on this role a lot: a corrupt, none-too-bright authority figure. When Snyder learns about the score Luther and Hooker pulled off, he immediately shakes down the young con artist, demanding a share under threat of tipping off Lonnegan. Hooker foists him off with some counterfeit bills, earning the policeman's wrath for the rest of the picture. Snyder is regarded scornfully by everyone: Hooker, Gondorff's girlfriend (Eileen Brennan), and the FBI all blow him off as a fool - but his proximity to the con and his knowledge of Hooker mean that he's not a fool who can simply be ignored.

The Gang: Though they're supporting players, each member of Gondorff's inner circle receives a few choice moments to contribute not only to the title sting, but also to the film's entertainment value. Harold Gould's Kid Twist is a consummate actor, at one point showing up in overalls to pass himself off as a painter to get into a banker's office, then unzipping the overalls to emerge in a business suit to adopt the role of a timid executive. Ray Walston's J. J. Singleton is entertaining every time he appears, and I particularly enjoyed his glee as he talks about Lonnegan's habit of cheating at cards. John Heffernan's Niles looks like an office worker, and he's enlisted to the con while actually working in a bank. Jack Kehoe's Erie was another of Luther's students, and he is as eager as Hooker to contribute to bringing down Lonnegan. Cumulatively, these characters round out the cast and help to bring this world to life.

Hooker and Luther discover how big a score they just made.
Hooker and Luther (Robert Earl Jones) discover just how big a score they've made.
They don't realize how dangerous an enemy they've made at the same time.

THOUGHTS:

As much as I enjoy The Sting - which is a lot - it would not have been my choice as 1973's Best Picture. The Exorcist was just as meticulously produced and just as well acted, and it was clear even at the time that it was destined to leave a cultural impact. Even among films that weren't nominated, I'd point to Fred Zinnemann's excellent film of Frederick Forsyth's The Day of the Jackal, which more or less created the "lone assassin" subgenre as we know it. In my opinion, either of those titles would have been a better choice as Best Picture.

But as I've said before, another movie being more deserving doesn't represent a fault in the winning movie. The Sting is a great Hollywood entertainment. It features big stars at their most charming in a witty romp that creates excitement less through action than through expert plotting. It's the type of film that, after a viewing, almost demands a regretful sigh of, "They don't make them like that anymore."

It's been about twenty years since I last watched this, but I remembered the major twists. Given how much of this movie is built around double-crosses, reversals, and surprises, I had expected that it would lose something on rewatch. Oddly, I think I enjoyed it more this time around. The screenplay doesn't cheat. Each of the plot turns is carefully set up in a way that doesn't telegraph them for first-time viewers, but that is visible on rewatch. This makes it fun to spot these moments as they occur.

Gondorff's inner circle plays cards and plans the con.
Gondorff's inner circle reviews information and plans their big con.

The script is superbly structured. It opens not with the con artists, but with the numbers operation, following the initial mark to his fateful encounter with Luther and Hooker. This allows the viewer to share the experience of being conned, with the viewpoint only switching to Hooker's after the money has changed hands. It also foreshadows what will happen next; we know before Hooker and Luther do that their ill-gotten cash is from organized crime, creating tension for the viewer even as the next couple of scenes provide exposition.

Luther steers Hooker to Gondorff, so that the veteran confidence man is expecting his new protégé even before the violence. The first sight of Gondorff is also the only time that he's completely unkempt, sleeping off a drunken stupor. The indication is that keeping a low profile, not engaging in cons, is leaving him directionless. As soon as he has a target, he becomes instantly sharper, his attitude and entire physical bearing changing from slovenly to focused. These scenes also establish that Gondorff is hiding from the FBI, laying groundwork for the FBI agent to enter the story in the final third.

I won't discuss more of the plot for fear of accidentally spoiling or hinting at things. I will say that there isn't any wasted space. Scenes are allowed to play out as long as needed, and there is a nice reflective moment just before the big finale. Still, every scene - including that moment of reflection - does something to advance the story.

Production values are impeccable, and the music score - composer Marvin Hamlisch's adaptations of Scott Joplin's ragtime compositions - elevates the sense of setting while being a perfect accompaniment to the action. All the individual pieces here are good, and they are put together to form a terrifically entertaining whole.

A shot of 1930s Chicago displays the movie's impeccable production values.
An establishing shot of 1930s Chicago displays the impeccable production values,
which are nowhere to be found in the ill-advised, cheap-looking sequel.

SEQUEL:

1983's The Sting II had a script from David S. Ward, the writer of the original film... and that's about all that can be said in its favor. I can't find a record of its budget, but I'm guessing it was much cheaper. In contrast to the original's production values, the sequel looks like a mid-1980s TV flick, and not even one of the event ones. Also, Paul Newman and Robert Redford are replaced with Jackie Gleason and Mac Davis as "Fargo Gondorff" and "Jake Hooker." I love Gleason, even if by the '80s his best days were behind him, but him as a recast for Newman is more than a slight head-scratcher.

Likely sensing the flack they would get for the downgrade, the studio attempted to publicize these as new characters - but given that they had the same basic personalities and relationships, and that the entire story revolved around Lonnegan (Oliver Reed, taking over for the late Robert Shaw) getting revenge for being conned, the claim doesn't stand up to much scrutiny.

It opened to savage reviews, and I suspect it should stay as it is now: a mostly forgotten footnote that simply shouldn't have been attempted.

Hooker, in a pensive moment on the eve of the big con.
Hooker indulges in a moment of reflection on the eve of the big con.

OVERALL:

I don't really think it deserved the award, but I also don't mind that it won. It's rare that something lighthearted wins Best Picture, so it's always pleasant to encounter such a film in this review series. Besides, this is a very good picture, benefitting from an outstanding production, a terrific script, and fine actors who are all in top form.

Most of all, it's just a fun time at the movies.


Rating: 8/10.

Best Picture - 1972: The Godfather
Best Picture - 1974: The Godfather, Part II

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