Robert Redford could have spent the fall of 1969 chasing bandits across the desert under a very different set of circumstances. One of the defining Westerns of his career - the one that made a generation of moviegoers want to buy a bicycle and head for the hills - nearly handed its lead role to another giant of Hollywood's golden age before Redford ever saddled up.
The part in question eventually went to Redford, and the rest is cinema history. But for a while, the studio and the filmmakers had their sights set on a different leading man entirely - one whose name carried just as much weight, if not more, at the time the project was being put together.
That's the thing about Hollywood's most enduring classics: they almost never arrive fully formed. They pass through a dozen hands, survive a dozen near-misses, and only look inevitable in retrospect. This one is no exception.
A Role That Wasn't Always Redford's
By the late 1960s, Redford was a rising star, but he wasn't yet the untouchable screen icon he'd become. He'd built a respectable filmography and had the kind of movie-star looks that made casting directors take notice, but the biggest roles in town were still being offered to a slightly older, more established tier of leading men first.
That tier included the legend who was originally eyed for this Western - a performer whose career had already weathered decades of industry shifts and who commanded enormous respect from directors and audiences alike. On paper, the match made sense. The actor had the gravitas, the box-office draw, and the kind of weathered, world-weary presence that Westerns of that era seemed to demand.
What changed? As is so often the case, it came down to a tangle of timing, scheduling, and the mysterious chemistry that happens when a director starts imagining a specific face saying specific lines. The original choice either couldn't commit, wasn't available, or simply didn't fit the vision once the project evolved - and the door swung open for Redford.
It's the kind of sliding-doors moment that fuels endless what-if debates among film buffs, and for good reason. Swap the lead, and you don't just change a movie - you change careers, change the cultural touchstones of an entire decade, and change what audiences remember when they close their eyes and picture that famous finale.
Why This Near-Miss Still Matters
Here's what makes these casting near-misses so fascinating: they remind us that star power isn't destiny. It's a series of auditions, phone calls, and lucky breaks.
Redford's career is a case study in that. He didn't land every role he wanted - he's been candid over the years about projects that slipped through his fingers, and about the ones he turned down that became hits for somebody else. The flip side is that the roles he did take helped define an era of American filmmaking, from the late '60s through the '70s and beyond.
The Western he anchored in 1969 became one of those rare movies that transcended its genre. It wasn't just a shoot-'em-up; it was a buddy story, a meditation on friendship and freedom, and a showcase for two actors who played off each other like they'd known each other their whole lives. Redford's chemistry with his co-star is the engine that keeps the film humming decades later.
What would it have looked like with the other legend in the saddle? Probably great in its own way - but different. That's the eternal truth of casting. You're not just hiring a face; you're hiring a whole history, a whole persona, a whole set of expectations the audience brings into the theater.
The Bigger Picture: Hollywood's What-If Machine
Every classic film has a shadow version of itself floating somewhere in the multiverse - the one with a different lead, a different director, a different ending. Some of those alternate realities would have been disasters. Others might have been just as beloved but entirely unrecognizable.
This particular swap is a reminder that Redford wasn't always the obvious choice. He became the obvious choice by delivering. By the time audiences saw him ride off into the credits, nobody could imagine anyone else in the role - which is exactly how legends get made.
So the next time you revisit a favorite film from that era, spare a thought for the actor who almost got the part. Their loss was our gain, and Redford's gain, and the reason we're still talking about this movie more than half a century later.
Source: Men's Journal