The Way He Was: A Generation Weeps As Robert Redford Dies At 89

The following column is commentary from Patch editor Lisa Finn regarding the death of actor Robert Redford.

NEW YORK — "Your girl is lovely, Hubbell."

The words have stayed with a generation forever.

They were spoken by a young Barbra Streisand, her tear-filled eyes a vibrant blue as she stands outside the Plaza Hotel in New York City, on a November day in 1972. That's the day when that iconic final scene was filmed for "The Way We Were", a sweeping love story she shared with the impossibly beautiful young actor Robert Redford.

As Barbra Streisand takes her leather-gloved hand and pushes his summer-boy sandy blonde hair from Robert Redford's forehead and he clasps her wrist gently, pulling her into a final embrace — an inevitable farewell — the audience sobbed.

Directed by the legendary Sydney Pollack, the film is considered one of the most compelling love stories of all time — about a bright-eyed political activist and a handsome WASP who find unlikely romance despite their stark differences.

When the world learned Tuesday morning that Robert Redford, a veritable golden boy of the silver screen, had died at 89, a generation who'd fallen in love with his own arresting blue eyes and slow smile mourned the loss of their first — screen idol — love.

Redford went on to have a prolific career as a celebrated actor, director, and passionate environmental activist. He created the Sundance Institute and the Sundance Film Festival, fostering a space for independent artists to soar.

Certainly, in later life he continued to captivate on screen, with a gripping turn in "All is Lost," about a man's battle with the sea, a tale of grit and endurance that captured Redford's own, still movie-star handsome countenance as he contemplated life and the ability of humans to survive in the face of seemingly insurmountable tragedy.

But for many, it was "The Way We Were," that will forever epitomize Robert Redford.

I was just a child when that film debuted in 1973. And yet, my mother and grandmother, undaunted, each holding my small hands, led me into a Loews movie theater in New York City. It was a PG-rated film, after all.

I remember everything in vivid technicolor. The sparkling counters, so tall I couldn't see over the tops, where my mother ordered me a bucket of buttery popcorn. Everything seemed so elegant at that theater in New York City, the clothes the women wore, so different from our usual, somewhat rundown cinematic experience at the local Alpine theater in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. At the Alpine, the floors were sometimes sticky and no one dressed for the occasion. Here, my grandmother wore her best coat with the fur collar.

What I remember most about that experience, though, wasn't the popcorn or the plush seats, or feeling like a grownup amongst that perfectly coiffed crowd. It was how, after the movie, we were crying, my mother, grandmother, and I, together — my mother's perfectly applied black eyeliner streaking her cheeks.

When Barbra Streisand's character, Katie Morosky, said good-bye to her Hubbell on that New York City street corner, her eyes, and his, said everything about the ache of a love that's real and true, but simply impossible to sustain. I wasn't even 10 years old yet, but on that day, in that New York City movie theater, I learned that sometimes, no matter how much it hurts, love just simply isn't enough.

There's magic in a theater. In the dark, still silence, theater goers become enthralled, enraptured, enraged. They cheer and cry, they yearn and hope and believe. And sometimes, they fall in love with the actors and characters and films that leave them forever changed — movies that intrinsically become laced tightly with their very hearts and yes, memories.

There's another exchange in "The Way We Were" that has resonated with me, always, when the young couple is lost in thought, imagining a world where they've survived all the turmoil of their tumultuous younger days.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we were old?" Barbra Streisand's Katie says. "We would have survived all this. And everything would be easy and uncomplicated, like it was when we were young."

"Katie, it was never uncomplicated," Robert Redford responds.

"It was never uncomplicated — but it was lovely," she replied.

Yes, Robert Redford, every single year and film and artistic challenge you met and conquered kept us forever loyal to your work, your heart, your character, your integrity, for decades.

All of it, was lovely.

Today, we, as a generation, feel like Barbra Streisand, uttering the soft, broken words, "Your girl is lovely, Hubbell." Knowing that, no matter how much we've loved you, it's really farewell.

And we'll miss you forever.