‘Boy, I got vision, and the rest of the world wears bifocals…’
I should begin by saying I don’t like Westerns. Except The Unforgiven. And The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Which, when I think about it, are pretty much the only Westerns I’ve ever actually seen. I guess it’s more the idea of a Western. When I see a square headed, tough guy wearing a Stetson hat in glorious technicolour, I am instantly transported to boring summer afternoons with my Dad watching some old dross on the tele, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he could be watching cartoons. All the tough guy posturing just isn’t for me really. I find it odd that so much popular culture is dedicated to such a relatively short period in American history. So why, I hear you ask, has this review of Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid been conjured into existence. The answer, dear reader, is simply ‘Paul Newman’.
I struggle with classic cinema sometimes. I find it really hit and miss. Some stuff genuinely ages like a fine wine, other stuff is difficult to sit through at all. Yet there seems a reluctance to admit the latter when discussing something that has been revered throughout cinematic history. A resistance to admitting that while something may have been groundbreaking once, now it is simply… dull. Paul Newman acts as a seal of quality. A torch guiding us through the annals of film and motion. Cool Hand Luke, The Hustler – these are bona fide classics. Timeless performances from one of America’s greatest ever actors. And so… to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Butch Cassidy (Newman) and the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) find themselves on the run after a botched train robbery, and so they do what anyone does when they find themselves in a bind – they flee to Bolivia.
For all Newman’s star power, Redford matches him every step of the way as the kid, sharing an electric chemistry with his more experienced co-star. As ever, it is a masterful performance from Newman. He doesn’t overact, he doesn’t have to, for Paul Leonard Newman, simply being Paul Leonard Newman is enough. And that’s what he does here, funny, breezily confident and never too far away from being menacing. It is a masterclass in the theory that less is more. A true joy to behold.
From the opening claustrophobic bar scene to the final freeze frame, George Roy Hill’s film is a blast, drawing on William Goldman’s perfect script to deliver something that is just as high octane and entertaining as it was upon release at the tail end of the ‘60s.
A Western yes. But a true classic of the genre.