On the surface, Robert Redford embodies a timeless ideal of masculinity, charm, and success. A Hollywood legend admired by millions around the globe, he has always been seen as the ultimate symbol of the leading man. But behind that glittering facade lies a heart full of deeply complex emotions—a man who, in his late 80s, is finally ready to reveal a secret that has stunned the public. In a series of deeply personal reflections, Redford has opened up about nine men who left an indelible mark on his life, shaping him in ways both professional and personal. These are not just colleagues; they are men who inspired longing, fierce loyalty, and even hatred so profound it could never be forgiven. Who among them left the deepest imprint on his soul? Let’s uncover each name and the dramatic story behind it.
Chapter 1: Mike Nichols, The Enemy He Could Never Forgive
In 1967, Robert Redford stood on the threshold of a career-defining moment, auditioning for the lead role of Benjamin Braddock in The Graduate. This was the role that could have catapulted him to international stardom. Yet, everything came crashing down under the brutally honest scrutiny of director Mike Nichols. Nichols bluntly rejected Redford, telling him he looked like “a loser” and an “All-American jock.” This comment, filled with contempt and dismissiveness, ignited a surge of humiliation and anger in Redford, etching a stain into his mind that he would never forget.
From that moment on, Redford’s animosity toward Nichols was no fleeting emotion. It became an instinctive, simmering resentment. Every memory of Nichols’s biting critique reinforced the insult, a humiliation that Redford’s pride—sensitive yet supremely confident in his talent—could never forgive. This deep-seated dislike extended beyond personal feelings. Redford, despite Nichols becoming one of Hollywood’s most legendary directors, refused every single future collaboration offer. This refusal was not just a career decision; it was a symbolic act, a powerful statement that Redford would never allow himself to be influenced or directed by the man who had so publicly wounded his pride. Until the end of his life, the name Mike Nichols remained a stain that Redford refused to touch, a testament to an unresolved conflict he carried for years.
Chapter 2: Paul Newman, Best Friend and Complex Rival
Robert Redford and Paul Newman became one of Hollywood’s most iconic on-screen duos. Their electric chemistry in films like Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid and The Sting captivated audiences, but their off-screen relationship was far more complex. From their first collaboration, a subtle but undeniable rivalry simmered beneath the surface. Newman, a seasoned star at the time, was initially jealous of Redford, a relatively unknown young actor. Newman had wanted to play the suave and rebellious Sundance Kid, a role he ultimately lost to Redford. While he accepted the part of Butch, he couldn’t hide his resentment, especially as Redford emerged from the film with explosive fame that quickly rivaled his own.
Yet, this rivalry, instead of dividing them, somehow made them inseparable. Their professional tensions were balanced by a deep, mischievous friendship. They were notorious for their endless pranks, including Redford gifting Newman a sleek Porsche that wouldn’t start, which Newman retaliated by having crushed into a metal block and sent back. Their families were also close, fueling rumors about the depth of their bond. A former crew member revealed that Redford often spoke of “haunting dreams” with Newman, dreams that left him waking in a state of panic and desire. In private moments, Redford was even overheard whispering to Newman, “Tonight, just the two of us.” These clandestine invitations and the unspoken affection fueled years of Hollywood gossip.
Despite the public speculation, their bond never crossed the threshold of friendship, which at times caused Redford to feel a deep sense of disappointment and even anger. When Newman did not reciprocate his more affectionate gestures, Redford felt rejected, masking his irritation behind polite smiles on set. In later years, their dream of a third on-screen collaboration was never fulfilled due to Newman’s failing health. When Paul Newman passed away in 2008, Redford’s grief was immense. “I lost a true friend,” he stated. “He was worth more than any love I have ever had. Life and this country is better because he was in it.” His brief statement spoke volumes, capturing a friendship, a rivalry, and a piece of Hollywood history that was now officially closed.
Chapter 3: Melvyn Douglas, The Unforgettable First Love of a Dreamy Young Man
Before he became a Hollywood icon, a young, dreamy Robert Redford was captivated by a name he would never forget: Melvyn Douglas. The first time he watched Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, Douglas’s calm gaze, suave smile, and elegant demeanor sparked an unusual feeling in Redford’s heart—a blend of admiration and attraction that he had never experienced before. This was the start of a lifelong obsession, a figure Redford would adore and long for endlessly.
In Redford’s imagination, Douglas was not just a talented actor; he was a first love in his mind. Every gesture, every nuanced look on screen mesmerized him, teaching him how to express deep emotion through his eyes, his subtle smiles, and his refined solitude. This influence shaped Redford’s later performances, particularly his most iconic roles as lonely, wandering figures. Each subsequent role he took on seemed to carry Douglas’s aura: calm yet mysterious, with a smile that masked an inner loneliness and a hidden allure. In his private moments, Redford admitted to yearning for Douglas’s image, reminding himself that fascination and curiosity were not harmful but were, in fact, the very emotions that fueled his own captivating and vibrant performances.
Chapter 4: Sydney Pollack, The Jealousy Over Another Woman
Robert Redford and Sydney Pollack first met on the set of War Hunt, forming a close friendship that would lead to some of their most iconic collaborations, including Jeremiah Johnson, The Way We Were, and Out of Africa. However, it was during the filming of the last film that a deep tension emerged. Redford grew incredibly close to his co-star, Meryl Streep, and their tender glances, warm smiles, and private shared moments made Pollack feel a profound sense of betrayal.
His jealousy simmered, transforming their professional relationship into an emotional storm. Pollack’s private affection for Redford felt threatened, and he couldn’t hide his frustration. The atmosphere on set grew thick with tension. Every interaction between Redford and Streep became an invisible weapon in Pollack’s emotional struggle, and Redford, caught in the middle, felt torn and trapped. Despite the conflict, these difficult moments ultimately made their bond uniquely resilient. Redford later said that the experience was uncomfortable, but it taught them to forgive each other. They reconciled, and Redford spoke of Pollack as a crucial part of his life, stating, “I’ve had many relationships, but the longest lasting was with Sydney Pollack.”
Chapter 5: Gene Hackman, The Living Legend Turned Irritating Nemesis
Robert Redford once had very high expectations for working with Gene Hackman on the film Downhill Racer. However, Hackman’s intense and uncompromising working style proved to be a constant source of irritation for Redford. While Redford sought a subtle and nuanced rapport on set, he found Hackman to be more like a “sledgehammer in a violin shop,” shattering the rhythm and harmony he had hoped to create. This profound disappointment planted the seed of a deep, simmering resentment that lingered in Redford for years.
Every scene with Hackman became a challenge. Redford, calm and professional by nature, struggled to adjust to Hackman’s forceful intensity, which made him feel constrained and frustrated. All attempts at harmony proved futile, and Redford realized that Hackman would never meet the expectations he had set. This animosity extended beyond the set. In subsequent years, Redford maintained an absolute distance from Hackman, coldly declining any offers or opportunities to work together. When Gene Hackman passed away, Redford’s attitude remained clear: he did not attend the funeral or offer any public condolences. For Redford, Hackman was still the man who had irritated him, a painful memory of disappointment he did not want to revisit. This action made Hollywood and the public fully aware of the long-standing animosity Redford held toward Hackman.
Chapter 6: Dustin Hoffman, The Second Favorite Man
In multiple interviews, Robert Redford revealed that Dustin Hoffman was his second favorite man in the world, a close second only to Paul Newman. During the filming of All the President’s Men, they were more than just colleagues. They were like two journalists dissecting the Watergate scandal, analyzing every detail and every line of dialogue until the line between the film and reality nearly vanished. Their on-screen chemistry was electric—both captivating and challenging. Tensions occasionally flared on set when Hoffman’s method acting forced Redford to rein himself in, yet those clashes created explosive, vibrant moments.
Off-set, they found private ways to unwind. Redford recounted racing along the Washington boulevards with Hoffman, the wind in their hair and engines roaring, both to release tension and to test themselves. These seemingly casual rides became intimate moments where they shared their deepest thoughts on work and life, nurturing a powerful and alluring friendship. Redford admitted that Hoffman’s sharp mind, intellect, and passionate confrontations opened his eyes to a new perspective on friendship and lifelong bonds.
Chapter 7: Sidney Poitier, The Moral Exemplar Blocked by Racial Barriers
Robert Redford and Sidney Poitier first met on the set of Sneakers, but Poitier left a deeper impression on Redford than any role ever could. With the keen insight of a star who had navigated complex professional relationships, Redford immediately recognized a rare quality in Poitier: a calm intelligence and unmatched integrity. From that moment, Redford saw Poitier not just as a colleague, but as someone who held a special place in his heart—a friend he would cherish for life. They spent private time together, going on walks and conversing for hours off set.
Yet, their relationship was never entirely free, constrained by an invisible barrier of race. In that era of Hollywood, a white star showing overly close affection for a black star was a sensitive matter, easily scrutinized and often misunderstood. Redford, recognizing this, carefully restrained his emotions, keeping everything within the limits of respect and friendship. Despite this societal barrier, Redford’s admiration never diminished. He expressed his respect and friendship through subtle actions and words, rather than through gestures that could make Poitier uncomfortable. Over the years, Redford maintained contact and cherished every memory with Poitier, admitting that their friendship was among the most treasured of his life.
Chapter 8: Jack Nicholson, The Unforgiving Rival
In 1974, Redford landed the coveted role of Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby, a part that Jack Nicholson had also desperately wanted. This casting choice became an unforgivable stain in Nicholson’s eyes, prompting him to openly express his jealousy and resentment. Nicholson’s hatred for Redford extended far beyond the role itself. It encompassed the entire persona Redford had cultivated—a charming man who captivated every gaze, a star who seemed to effortlessly possess everything others envied.
Every step, every smile of Redford seemed to stab Nicholson’s already fragile pride, creating a long-lasting poison in Hollywood. Though Redford largely ignored the criticism, he maintained an absolute distance from Nicholson, rejecting every collaboration offer. This was a clear reminder that the humiliation of being looked down upon could never be erased.
Chapter 9: James Cagney, The Unseen Lover
Among the many men who left an impression on Robert Redford, one secret stands out, known to only a few close to him: a fleeting, dream-like infatuation with the legendary James Cagney. Redford, in private conversations with close colleagues, admitted his deep admiration for Cagney, calling him an “incredible talent” with a tone that blended respect with a subtle fascination. This was not a public romance, but a quiet admiration, a fleeting feeling that Redford recalled repeatedly in private stories.
Whenever Cagney’s name was mentioned, Redford’s eyes would sparkle with a mix of passion and curiosity. Cagney’s bold, distinct style and commanding on-screen gestures inspired both awe and a secret longing in Redford. In his mind, Cagney was not just a professional role model but an ideal lover in a fleeting imagination—a silent, unspoken feeling Redford never revealed to the world. For Redford, this brief infatuation never had a chance to blossom. Cagney existed in his mind as an image of masculine allure and cinematic magnetism, powerful yet mysterious enough to make his heart race while keeping a safe distance.
At 89, Robert Redford still remembers the men who left lasting impressions on his life. These nine men—from Paul Newman and Sidney Poitier to Dustin Hoffman and James Cagney—became memories, emotions, and secret stirrings that Redford cherished throughout his life. They were complex relationships, including men he resented for life, all of which shaped him both professionally and emotionally. They are a testament to the rich, dramatic, and deeply human life he has lived, proving that the man behind the legend is far more complicated and captivating than his public persona ever revealed.
