After the utter joy of watching The Sting (1973) this summer, I have to say that Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid is a letdown (1969). I think this disappointment develops from the film's confusion of tone and meandering pace. Robert Redford and Paul Newman have enough star power to make an Ocean's movie, but they cannot carry a film on looks alone. As one-liners slip and slide throughout the movie, I couldn't help but be bored with where they were going. I didn't really care about their mythic characters. Everything dragged on a bit too long, and I found myself wondering where the story went.
Referring to Northrop Frye's Anatomy of Criticism, I think we could place these two heroes under the ironic category. I found myself looking down at them and their antics. This is not the case for the troublemakers they play in The Sting. You want them to steal and swindle. In this one, I couldn't help but feel sorry for Mr. Woodcock for being swindled by a bunch of amateurs.
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