When Robert Redford stepped onto the field in Buffalo to film The Natural, he was forty-seven years old. Think about that for a second. He was playing Roy Hobbs, a character who, even in the "older" part of the story, was supposed to be a thirty-five-year-old rookie. By all Hollywood logic, the movie should have been a disaster. You've got a guy nearing fifty trying to convince us he can outrun a fly ball and knock the cover off a baseball.
But it worked. Man, did it work.
Honestly, it worked so well that for a huge chunk of the population, Redford is baseball. He isn't just an actor playing a part; he became the living embodiment of the "golden age" of the sport, even if that version of history is mostly a beautiful, sun-drenched myth created by cinematographer Caleb Deschanel. People still get misty-eyed thinking about the light bulbs exploding, but there’s a lot more under the surface of Robert Redford in The Natural than just a lucky swing and a catchy Randy Newman score.
The Athlete Behind the Legend
A lot of fans don't realize that Redford wasn't just faking those swings. He was a legit athlete. He’d played ball as a kid and even went to the University of Colorado on a baseball scholarship (before he got kicked out for, well, being a bit of a rebel).
When director Barry Levinson started production, he was worried. He had 4,000 extras in the stands at Buffalo’s War Memorial Stadium, and he needed his lead to look like a pro. He didn't need to worry. Redford showed up and started hammering balls into the right-field seats during practice. It got to the point where Levinson actually had to ask him to stop being so good. There’s this great story about Levinson telling him, "Bob, you’ve gotta strike out. We need to film the slump."
Redford was so competitive he almost couldn't help himself. He modeled his entire batting stance on his childhood hero, Ted Williams. He even insisted on wearing the number 9, Williams' old number with the Red Sox.
Why the Movie Changed the Ending (and Why It Matters)
If you haven't read Bernard Malamud’s original 1952 novel, prepare for a gut punch. It is dark. In the book, Roy Hobbs isn't a hero who hits a home run and goes home to play catch with his son. He strikes out. He throws the game. He ends up disgraced, weeping in the street after a kid asks him the "Say it ain't so, Joe" question.
Redford knew that wouldn't fly in 1984. He’d spent ten years trying to get this movie made, and he argued that the story needed to be about redemption, not a slow-motion car crash of a life.
- The Hollywood Shift: Redford pushed for the "Excalibur" ending.
- The Mythology: He saw Roy Hobbs as a Greek hero—Odysseus coming home.
- The Result: We got the most iconic pyrotechnic celebration in sports cinema history.
Some critics at the time hated it. They called it "sentimental" and "manipulative." But you can't argue with the image of Redford rounding the bases under a shower of sparks. It turned a gritty book about failure into an American fable about a second chance.
Working With a Young Barry Levinson
At the time, Barry Levinson was not the legendary director we know today. He’d only done Diner. Redford was a massive star who had already won an Oscar for directing Ordinary People. Usually, that's a recipe for a massive ego clash.
Instead, they bonded over the details. They spent months scouting stadiums, finally landing on Buffalo because it looked like a time capsule. Much of the film’s "soul" comes from those long nights in the cold, where the crew used an actual air cannon to fire baseballs into the stadium lights to get the timing of the explosions right.
Redford’s salary was a cool $6 million—a massive sum in the early '80s—but he earned it by doing his own stunts and staying in the batter's box until three in the morning in near-freezing temperatures.
🔗 Read more: How Many Seasons in Major Crimes? Why the Show’s Seven-Season Run Still Stings
The Casting Genius of the Knights
The chemistry on screen wasn't just about Redford. Look at the people surrounding him. You had Wilford Brimley as Pop Fisher and Richard Farnsworth as Red Blow. These guys didn't look like "actors"; they looked like guys who had spent forty years chewing tobacco and worrying about their ERA.
Brimley was actually only nine months older than Redford in real life. It’s a bit of a running joke now—the "Brimley/Cocoon" scale—but it shows how much the movie relied on Redford’s ageless, "golden boy" aura. He looked like the future, while everyone else looked like the past.
Then you have Glenn Close as Iris, the "Lady in White." She was nominated for an Oscar for the role, and for good reason. Her first scene was shot while she was incredibly nervous, hiding a breakout on her face under a carefully placed hat and the "halo" lighting Deschanel became famous for. That light wasn't an accident. It was designed to make her look like Roy’s conscience.
Realism vs. Romance
The movie walks a weird line. On one hand, you have the hyper-realistic detail of the 1930s:
👉 See also: Why Vinnie Barbarino Still Matters: The Truth About the Sweathogs Leader
- The heavy, web-less gloves that made Redford’s hands ache.
- The wool uniforms that weighed a ton when it rained.
- The vintage trains and the gritty "Judge's" office.
On the other hand, you have the magic. The bat "Wonderboy" made from a lightning-struck tree. The way the ball seems to glow. Redford understood that for Robert Redford in The Natural to work, it couldn't just be a documentary about baseball. It had to be about the feeling of being a hero.
Actionable Insights: Why We Still Watch It
If you’re a filmmaker, a writer, or just a fan, there are three big takeaways from Redford’s performance here:
- Own your physicality: Redford’s "cool" didn't come from his dialogue; it came from the way he leaned against the dugout. He understood that in a sports movie, how you hold the equipment tells the audience everything they need to know.
- Redemption is a universal hook: We love Roy Hobbs because he failed. If he had been a superstar at nineteen, we’d be bored. We care because he got shot, lost fifteen years of his life, and still showed up with a suitcase and a dream.
- The ending defines the legacy: Whether you like the "happy" ending or not, it's what made the movie a classic. Sometimes, sticking to the "true" version of a book (the dark ending) kills the "truth" of the movie (the hero's journey).
If you want to experience the film properly today, don't just watch it on your phone. Find the highest-resolution version you can, turn up the speakers for the Randy Newman score, and watch the way the light hits Redford’s face during that final at-bat. It’s a masterclass in movie stardom.
To really dive deeper into the production, look for the "When Lightning Strikes" featurette on the 25th-anniversary DVD. It shows the actual footage of the crew rigging those lights in Buffalo and includes interviews with the real-life ballplayers who filled out the Knights' roster. They all say the same thing: Redford was the real deal on the field.
Next time you’re watching a modern sports movie and the lead actor looks like they’ve never held a bat before, remember Roy Hobbs. Remember the guy who, at forty-seven, convinced us all that a single swing could light up the sky.