The Hot Rock at 50: Robert Redford’s Most Underrated Heist Movie

For someone cited as Hollywood’s golden boy for a grand portion of his acting career, Robert Redford sure enjoyed playing characters who liked stealing stuff. Drawn to the idea of the outlaw life from an early age, his cinematic crimes were often dashing and romantic, Robin Hood-esque in nature. Whatever he did, you’d root for him. You’d have to—he’s Robert Redford!
Sandwiched in his filmography between Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid and The Sting—two thievery movies, both co-starring Paul Newman, that played a big part in making Redford a megastar—is the far less famous The Hot Rock, based on a novel by Donald Westlake and directed by Peter Yates. Though it was met with resounding shrugs upon its release 50 years ago, the film’s abundant charm makes it well worth a revisit.
We meet Redford’s character, Dortmunder, as he’s being released from the latest of his many stints in prison for robbery. Picking him up—and, in a typically clumsy move, almost running him down in a freshly stolen car—is his locksmith brother-in-law Kelp (George Segal). In addition to a lift, Kelp offers him an opportunity: A precious stone resides in the Brooklyn Museum, which belongs to the (fictional) country of Dr. Amusa (Moses Gunn), who would very much like the stone back and is willing to pay handsomely to make it happen.
Dortmunder is initially reluctant to leap straight into another risky job so soon after gaining his freedom, but the relentless enthusiasm of his brother-in-law and his conviction in his own abilities changes his mind. Dortmunder and Kelp recruit explosives expert Greenberg (Paul Sand) and getaway driver Murch (Ron Leibman), and after weeks of careful preparation, the four men carry out the job. It goes terribly, but never ones to accept defeat, they try again. And again. As their efforts are met with an increasingly absurd array of obstacles, the group’s determination only grows. Will they ever get their hands on that darn stone?
While The Hot Rock opens like a traditional heist movie (the idea, the assembling of the gang, the casing of the joint, the robbery) almost before we realize it, we’ve entered the realm of the ridiculous. There’s a real boiling-a-frog logic to the film’s snowballing lunacy; we need to get to a place where we’d accept a hypnotist and the phrase “Afghanistan Banana Stand” as the solution to our quartet’s woes, and somehow—via double-crossing dads, uncomfortable bowel movements and nauseating helicopter rides—we do.