Robert Redford has a filmography that would be any actor’s dream. He starred in the classic Western “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” in the quintessential con artist movie “The Sting,” and in one of the great baseball films, “The Natural,” to name just a few. And he somehow pulled off that difficult Hollywood trick of making you briefly forget that you are watching a famous actor.
But as the world mourns his death Tuesday at the age of 89, one of his more understated performances stands out to me.
I’ll admit I’m biased, as any reporter of my age is likely to be, but Redford’s role as Bob Woodward in “All the President’s Men” is the one that I’ll be rewatching in memoriam — especially the carefully constructed six-minute scene as the legendary Washington Post journalist tries to nail down a story in the Watergate scandal that brought down President Richard Nixon.
As someone who has watched more journalism movies than I can in good faith recommend, I can say unequivocally that it’s hard to show both the essence of journalism and make a good movie, but this scene is among the best to do both.
It begins with Redford in a busy newsroom, making phone calls while his co-worker Carl Bernstein is out pounding the pavement. The two are trying to pin down a connection between Nixon’s re-election campaign and one of the Watergate burglars. It’s a relatively minor story, but one of the building blocks of the bigger picture that the president was directly involved in the crime.
As the scene begins, a TV in the background is blaring the day’s top story — that Democratic vice presidential nominee Thomas Eagleton was dropping out of the race — and director Alan J. Pakula does something of a head fake to make the viewer wonder if that will be important. (You can read a great breakdown of how the scene was filmed here.)
But Redford-as-Woodward pays no attention as he keeps making calls, trying to find someone who can help him break the story.
His acting is understated but precise. At one point, the source says, “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” and Redford makes a silent two-second prayer with his eyes closed that every reporter recognizes. After the source gives him the information he’s been looking for, Redford breaks into a tightly restrained joy, trying so hard not to betray his emotions that he calls the source by the wrong name and quickly apologizes. The phone call ends and he immediately begins banging out the article on his typewriter.
Lesser journalism movies tend to overhype scenes like this, with journalists yelling to their editors that they’ve got the scoop (just in case the audience didn’t catch that). But Redford is locked in throughout, tuning out everything but the story he’s chasing, oblivious to the chaotic newsroom around him and worried more about getting the facts straight and meeting deadline. Applications to journalism school spiked in the aftermath of the Watergate scandal and especially after the release of the book and then the movie of “All the President’s Men.” Due credit goes to the fact that the reporting duo helped bring down a president, of course, and to the taut script by William Goldman and Pakula’s brilliant choices as director. But no one who went to J-school because of this film was misled. For all his movie-star good looks, Redford sells journalism almost exactly as it is, only with slightly higher stakes than usual. Redford was a rare talent, a gifted actor who could also direct, a Hollywood icon who started the Sundance Film Festival and an environmental activist who managed to be passionate without being strident. But his greatest talent may have been restraint, knowing when to hold back and not get in the way of the story. It’s a skill the best reporters have, too, which may be one reason he was so good in the role.
Ryan Teague Beckwith is a newsletter editor for MS NOW. He has previously worked for such outlets as Time magazine and Bloomberg News. He teaches journalism at Georgetown University’s School of Continuing Studies and is the creator of Your First Byline. 
