Robert Redford – always The Natural

I’ve been thinking a lot lately – about Robert Redford, his death, his films – and about The Natural. Because for me, sitting here at 63, Redford has always been part of the background hum of life. Like that constant radio station that sometimes you forget is playing, until you hear a song and suddenly, everything pivots back. Choosing a favourite Redford movie is a bit like choosing a favourite child: they all have their moments, their virtues, their wounds.

From when I was young, Redford was there: the golden-hair promise of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, that cool irony in The Sting, the gravitas in All the President’s Men, the romantic ache in The Way We Were. Over six decades, he did good, wide, risky work – the kind of work that sometimes disappoints (you think, was that really necessary?), sometimes soars. His legacy is expansive, almost unwieldy. How do you pick one?

And yet, for all those films, there is The Natural. It may not be the biggest of his success stories – at least not in awards or in the usual “Greatest of All-Time” conversation – but it’s the one that reaches in and holds on. For someone who loves baseball stories, The Natural is elemental. It’s mythic, tragic, redemptive. Roy Hobbs, the flawed hero who rises late, beautifully, fails big, comes back. There is something profoundly American in it, in its longing, its grief, its hope, that hits me deep.

I love Kevin Costner’s Field of Dreams, and I’ll say without hesitation that it’s my favourite movie, more than any Redford film. But The Natural is up there. When I watch Roy shoot that homer in the rain, when I see Iris looking on, or Pop Fisher’s anguish, the musical score swelling: yes. That’s a moment I carry. It’s not the flashiest, or the one people quote most, but it’s the one that slips in under my skin.

What makes The Natural interesting in Redford’s body of work is that it’s not wholly triumphant. Roy Hobbs is a character who carries shame, failure, regret. The film doesn’t shy from the darkness: the flubbed shot, the drunkness, the impossibility of the second chances he gets. It’s not just about winning. And that’s why, for me, it feels truer. Because life is not just the wins. Redford gives you both the glory and the scars.

In many of his greatest hits, Redford was already an icon. The Sting, Butch Cassidy – those are pictures of perfection in their own way. But The Natural is worn in. It’s weathered. It acknowledges mortality, chance, loss. It understands that heroism sometimes arrives late, sometimes is messy. That’s part of why I gravitate toward it. For someone who loves baseball films, it’s a bridge: between myth and human.

Now that Redford has passed, what people are saying about his passing and legacy brings this into sharper focus. His peers have lined up with admiration and sadness. Meryl Streep: “One of the lions has passed.” Jane Fonda called his passing a blow, saying he “stood for an America we have to keep fighting for.” Barbra Streisand remembered him as “charismatic, intelligent, intense…always interesting – and one of the finest actors ever.”  Mark Ruffalo, who worked with him, shared how Redford was a hero, lived as a model, someone whose mentorship and presence shaped how he thought about his own work.

What strikes me is how people don’t just praise his roles. They praise the moral weight, the integrity, the activism – the founding of Sundance, the environmental work, his off-screen personhood. He becomes more than the sum of his parts. More than just the beautiful lead, or the rugged protagonist. He is someone who carried ideals, sometimes imperfectly, but persistently. That matters to a generation that saw so much of change, so much disillusionment.

So: The Natural isn’t the biggest box-office winner, isn’t always held up as Redford’s masterpiece. But to me, it is one of his truest. Roy Hobbs’ batting isn’t just hitting a baseball; it’s chasing something lost. And with Redford, we get both the sweep of myth and the ache of the human heart.

At 63, I’ve watched Redford age, shift, take different risks. Seen him as a romantic, a journalist, a cowboy, a drifter, a broken man, sometimes a fool. And in every version – even failures, even contradictions – I saw someone trying something. And that’s what I want: not perfection, but resonance. Not always success, but truth.

So if someone asks, why The Natural is my favourite Redford movie, it’s because it’s the one that understands brokenness, hope, time. Because it leans into the long game – what it means to return, or try. Baseball is about failure as much as glory. Roy misses; he falls; he fights. And Redford lets him.

In the end, Redford’s work is so expansive and so good that choosing one is always a loss. But The Natural, for me, is where the love of baseball and the love of cinema meet: imperfect, moving, unforgettable.

Thank you, Robert Redford. For the long view. For letting the film be sad and hopeful at once. For The Natural, and all the rest. You were one of my generation’s constants. And your legacy will be.