*SPOILER WARNING*
I should preface this review by admitting that I've never been a tremendous fan of Westerns. With my greatest exposure coming from Neo-Westerns like No Country For Old Men and 3:10 to Yuma, I never quite broke into the genre.
However, a while ago on a particularly bright afternoon, I found myself in a cowboy mood. The sun was beating down on my face as folk singers crooned from my car radio. By the time I got home, I knew I had to watch a classic Western film. Enter George Roy Hill’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969).
I didn’t know much about Butch Cassidy going in, besides its use of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” and that Robert Redford is in it. But upon watching, I swiftly made two discoveries that thoroughly explained why this film is a quintessential cowboy tale.
My first discovery is that the cinematography, shot by three time Oscar winner Conrad Hall, is absolutely stunning. Nearly as soon as the film begins, Hall gives us a tense card game of cards rife with visual intensity. As the Sundance Kid (Robert Reford) stares down his opponent, the details of his sweaty, sunlit face are incredibly clear, fueling his aggressive stance.
At the same time, most of the screen is shrouded in darkness, which not only contrasts with Sundance’s yellow face, but also implies that there’s much more to this man that we're not seeing. Of course, there is, and we soon learn that the Sundance Kid is a notorious outlaw with shooting skills that would make any opponent nervous. His foe, who just accused Sundance of cheating, finds out too and must atone quickly and embarrassingly to comedic effect.
But Hall’s impressive skills are not only limited to character development. Besides the two iconic heroes, Hall comprehensively develops the film’s pivotal setting, the wonderous but dying West. His sweeping landscape shots of deserts, mountains, and rivers all sculpt a tangible Wild West out of nature’s superfluous beauty.
While these scenes were likely breathtaking in 1969, from 2026, the nearly untouched bridles of nature feel as alien as they are atmospheric. The West is not just superbly presented by Hall, but it becomes an active agent of its own, something that Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) and the Sundance Kid must know well to survive.
Besides capturing the landscape’s beauty, Hall gradually shows how it’s actively being reduced faster than our heroes can imagine. As Cassidy and Sundance traverse the wilderness, we not only see the gorgeous nature but a distant danger slowly encroaching on their untouched world.
To them, this danger comes in the form of a super team of law enforcement officers specifically hired to not only kill them, but eradicate their way of life. Even after our heroes muster several tricks and diversions, these shadowy figures remain in the distance, closing in gradually but surely. They might seem like small insignificant figures on the screen, but their constant presence looms large over the iconic duo.
Yet to us, these hunters are something else entirely. They mark the final call of the unregulated party that is the Wild West or at least the Hollywoodization of it. Early in the film, our heroes merrily drink, seduce women, steal stacks of money, and ride off into the sunset nearly every day.
However, as these enforcers move in on Cassidy and Sundance, they signify that the party is over, even if our heroes won’t admit it. The industrialization of the East is finally seeping into the untamed frontiers where Cassidy and Sundance have ruled for so long. The once uncontrollable West will now be regulated like everywhere else, whether Cassidy and Sundance are alive to see it or not.
But it’s that inescapably tragic fate that our heroes are driven to that makes my second discovery so surprising; this movie is really funny. Assuming erroneously that it would be a serious action film, I was genuinely shocked by the humor that persists throughout the story.
The jokes start quite early when Cassidy outwits one of his mutinous bandits, who happens to be far bigger than Cassidy. He distracts then surprises his adversary with some easy but effective hits that any man could make, but only Cassidy would think of.
From that point, Cassidy and Sundance are presented as lighthearted and well humored heroes, trading polite digs with their victims and even stopping to enjoy the lives that they’ve built.
With constant humor, it becomes hard to believe that Cassidy and Sundance are truly bad guys, even as they repeatedly violate the law. While being chased by the cold hands of justice, they maintain their constant quips, lightheartedly joking about their increasingly desperate situation. Their humor contrasts greatly with the film’s more serious moments, like the death of their new boss in Bolivia or when Sundance’s lover, Etta (Kathryn Ross), leaves after refusing to watch them die.
Still, our heroes never waver, refusing to alter their lighthearted friendship or criminal activities. Despite the party of the Wild West undeniably fading before them, its two biggest partygoers continue the only way they know how.
In fact, it’s their commitment to being optimistic, well-mannered bandits that truly renders their ending tragic. Because they make us laugh and consistently offer such an appealing version of the Wild West, we can’t help but be drawn to their charisma. I refer to them as heroes throughout this review not because they offer moral guidance or occupy some beneficial corner of society, but because we root for them as relatable and likeable people who hold abilities far beyond our own.
As such, when the film concludes, we desperately hope for an impossible escape that sadly never comes. Even in their final moments, Cassidy and Sundance remind us why we loved them so much. Outnumbered, cornered, and already shot, Cassidy asks Sundance if he sees the hunter who has been chasing them throughout the film. Sundance says it isn’t him, and Cassidy replies, “Good. For a minute I thought we were in trouble.”
They then run out, guns blazing, as the screen freezes and a hyperbolic number of gunshots serenade their end. Like Sundance’s lover, we can’t bear to see them die, but are forced to know that our heroes are officially relics of the West.
The ending is tragic not because it signifies the end for the West’s two finest bandits, but because it’s the end of two relatable heroes we feel deserve better, even though they probably don’t.
In that end lies the true magic of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Transported to the beautiful West, we meet its two greatest heroes, revel in their friendship, and then watch their world slowly fall apart before they’re gunned down by Bolivian policemen.
It would be a far different and more honest experience to watch two realistic thieves and killers earn their comeuppance and perish, but that’s now what we’re given. Instead, that tragic ending is reserved for two likeable, attractive, and nearly invulnerable heroes who come to represent everything we idealize about the Wild West.
Coming out at a time when Western movies were of waning dominance, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid not only systematically showcases the end of the West for our heroes, but also our heightened fascination with it as well. Offering a beautiful, funny, and tragic voyage into the much-storied West, Hill’s film encapsulates the end of the West, for better or worse.
