In a surprising revelation that shakes the myth of effortless stardom, Robert Redford has candidly described the harsh obstacles he faced in the earliest years of his acting career. Long before he was regarded as a pioneering force in American cinema and an inspiration to countless filmmakers, Redford’s journey began with turbulence, anxiety, and a persistent fear of failure that pushed him to extremes. His struggle with self-sabotage, fueled by the pressure of living up to his reputation and doubts about his abilities, came dangerously close to derailing his journey before it truly began.
Redford’s unsteady start in show business unfolded in the late 1950s and early 1960s, as he moved between television roles and the unpredictable world of Broadway theatre in New York City. Despite landing his first major stage appearance in 1959’s “Tall Story,” followed quickly by respected performances in “The Highest Tree” and “Sunday in New York,” Robert Redford was plagued by uncertainty about his true place in the acting world. By 1963, he had achieved a prized leading role in Neil Simon’s “Barefoot in the Park,” starring opposite Elizabeth Ashley—a performance hailed for its unexpected comedic vitality. As Richard Radner of The New Yorker observed,
“Redford had a wild comic energy that audiences these days have never seen.”
Yet beneath this outward success, Robert Redford was locked in a private struggle. He revealed that, at the height of his Broadway acclaim, doubts about his purpose as an actor gnawed at his confidence. The very features that won him attention—his striking looks—soon left him feeling trapped, seen by industry insiders as simply a handsome face.
“That point in my life was kind of a dark period,”
Robert Redford told New York Magazine, reflecting on his time in “Barefoot in the Park.”
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to act. I decided, ‘I’m gonna sabotage this. I’m gonna make them fire me.’”
What followed was a period of turmoil in which Robert Redford, caught in a spiral of self-doubt, tried to force his way out of a celebrated production. Unsure of his future, he stopped learning his lines and gave his director, Mike Nichols, every reason to dismiss him. This willingness to torpedo his own prospects was, in Redford’s words, a symptom of feeling lost and disconnected from the work he was doing, proof of a deeper crisis of purpose and self-worth.
Despite these desperate actions, Redford was met with unexpected resolve from Nichols. The director recognized Redford’s distress, refusing to let him walk away or be pushed out. As Nichols adamantly told the young actor,
“You’re gonna be in the play no matter what. You can just lie down on the stage, but I want you to be in the play.”
This steadfast support turned out to be a crucial turning point, a gesture of belief that interrupted Redford’s urge for self-destruction and gave him space to confront his fears under the protection of someone who saw his value.
With hindsight, Robert Redford understands that his attempts at self-sabotage were both reckless and immature, driven by wounds he had yet to understand. However, he also recognizes that this painful episode allowed him to confront his own rage, anxiety, and creative chaos—a transformative experience that changed the trajectory of his career.
“What a risky thing for Mike to do,”
Redford later admitted.
“I let out a lot of rage in improvisation, and through a craziness I discovered I had when onstage. It was like working with a therapist, that time with Mike—but at least you knew the therapist was a little nuts.”
These difficult formative years left an indelible mark on Robert Redford, shaping not only the actor, but the filmmaker and visionary he would become. The legacy of his struggle with self-doubt, and the intervention that saved him from self-destruction, remains a powerful reminder of how even icons can falter—and how vital the right support can be in moments of crisis. As Redford’s career flourished, launching new talents through ventures like the Sundance Film Festival and leaving a permanent influence on American cinema, the shadow of his early struggle stays with him, adding depth to his achievements and highlighting the urgency of addressing self-doubt head on. Looking back, his journey serves as encouragement and warning alike: brilliance and vulnerability often walk side by side, and the most celebrated paths may begin in turmoil and uncertainty.
