The Quiet Legend of Robert Benton

When I heard of the passing of Robert Benton by way of my editor today, the first thought that came to my mind was, “How is it possible to have a resume as storied as Robert Benton’s, and yet have so few beyond the most historically focused of cinephiles be aware of his accomplishments?” While Benton’s credits (in terms of volume) may seem modest–he directed twelve films, and wrote sixteen–many of them are among the most significant in modern film history. 

After directing a short film in 1964 (A Texas Romance, 1909), Benton turned his attention to screenwriting, and oh my, is it possible to come out of the gates with a stronger first script than Bonnie & Clyde (1967)? Benton’s first produced work of penmanship (co-written by frequent partner in scribe, David Newman) wasn’t just one of the most significant films of the 20th century, it’s on the very short list of movies that changed cinema forever. Benton’s telling of the infamous depression era bank-robbing Barrow gang pushed the limits of sexuality and on-screen violence. Sure, Faye Dunaway (Bonnie) and Warren Beatty (Clyde) made for an impossibly beautiful and sexy cinematic duo, but a film addressing impotence (Clyde’s) was a rare beast. As for the violence part, the hail of bullets massacre of Bonnie & Clyde was astonishing in the final year before the MPAA ratings system was introduced. 

Certainly, no one should take anything from Director Arthur Penn’s unflinching depiction of the demise of the Barrow gang, but these were Benton’s words and framing that Penn brought to the screen. In the history of great screenwriting debuts, Benton’s Bonnie & Clyde may not be first, but it’s hard to make a substantial argument that it doesn’t at least belong in the discussion. 

Benton’s next screenplay, the darkly comedic Western starring Kirk Douglas and Henry Fonda, …There Was A Crooked Man (1970), didn’t make the impact of Bonnie & Clyde, but it did show off Benton’s penchant for the off-kilter and unique. As if to prove that point even further, Benton and Newman’s next screenplay (written with Buck Henry) was what may well be the last true masterpiece of screwball comedy, What’s Up Doc? (1972), directed by Peter Bogdanovich and starring Barbra Streisand and Ryan O’Neal. Doc may have had little in common with Bonnie & Clyde and …There Was a Crooked Man, other than a fantastic ear for comedic dialogue and character development. 

That same year, Benton directed his first full-length feature film, Bad Company. With Jeff Bridges and Barry Brown in the leads, Bad Company is a demythologizing Western about two Civil War draft dodgers (Bridges and Brown) whose romantic view of the West deteriorates as the ragtag gang of misfits they surround themselves with meet with one setback after another. Bad Company was critically lauded, but criminally unseen. It’s one of the finest retro Westerns ever made, and despite its failure at the box office, the film heralded Benton as more than just a great screenwriter, but also a director of note. 

Five years passed before Benton’s next project came to light, 1977’s The Late Show, starring Art Carney (of The Honeymooners fame) and the great Lily Tomlin. Carney plays Ira, a retired Los Angeles Private Eye who comes out of retirement when his former partner Harry (Bill Macy) shows up on his doorstep, dying from a gunshot wound. Like much of Benton’s films, the Late Show is an unusual take on a genre (in this case, noir). How unusual? Well, let’s just say in the process of uncovering the killer of his old partner, there’s also a ransomed feline for Ira to rescue. The film is a charmer and a half that defies easy categorization—another hallmark of Benton’s work.

1978 and 1979 would bring forth Benton’s two greatest commercial successes. As the co-writer of the first great (and many would still say, greatest) superhero movie, Superman, Benton (along with four other writers) managed to balance action, drama, and screwball comedy in creating a massively successful cultural phenomenon that made $134 million ($678 million when adjusted for inflation). Benton and crew took a DC Comics superhero starring a then-unknown Christopher Reeve as fledgling reporter Clark Kent, put him in tights and a cape (changing from a suit to his costume in a phone booth), with his only disguise being a pair of eyeglasses, and somehow made millions of moviegoers buy the whole thing. Superman was a straight-up gas that attracted Oscar winner Gene Hackman as villain Lex Luthor, Oscar nominee Ned Beatty as Luthor’s bumbling sidekick, Oscar nominee Valerie Perrine as the lusty (yet still PG) Eve Tessmacher, a never better Margot Kidder as love interest Lois Lane, and a bored-to-tears Marlon Brando in a big paycheck cameo as Jor-El (Superman’s unearthly father), and somehow made absolute gold out of a silly concept with cheesy special effects and a request for suspension of disbelief that defies credulity. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe What’s Up Doc? Isn’t the last great screwball comedy. Maybe Superman is. God, is it ever a hoot, and I mean that in the most flattering way possible.

Benton’s return to the director’s chair for Kramer Vs. Kramer couldn’t have been further away from Superman had it been filmed on Krypton, in telling the story of a suddenly single father (Dustin Hoffman) trying to figure out how to become a parent of a precocious eight-year-old, after his wife (Meryl Streep) walks out on him. For some, Kramer Vs. Kramer hasn’t aged well. In retrospect, there are those who see the film as being too favorable to Hoffman’s father and far too harsh on Streep’s mother. While I can certainly understand how an anti-feminist view of the film could be taken, I disagree with it. From Mildred Pierce to Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, cinematic history is full of films about the plight of single mothers. Not to mention, Streep’s mother walks out on her family due to Hoffman’s absenteeism as a father, resulting in the implosion of Streep’s character due to being, in almost every way that matters, a single mom. Kramer Vs. Kramer is about a self-absorbed man forced to go from sperm donor to dad. Hoffman’s character creates his own dilemma, and it’s also worth noting that the sort of depression that Streep’s character is suffering from (the loss of independent identity due to the pressures of motherhood and an unsupportive spouse) was largely not supported in the ‘70s by the psychiatric profession. Kramer Vs. Kramer is one specific tale about one specific father who is forced to grow up and come of age when his wife does what so many men do to women. They leave. 

Aside from being nearly as big of a hit as Superman (words written that are hard to imagine now in the era of the superhero film), Kramer Vs. Kramer earned Oscar wins for Best Picture, Best Director (Benton), Best Actor (Hoffman), Best Supporting Actress (Streep), and Best Adapted Screenplay (Benton, again). The film also scored another four nominations in other categories. It’s one of the last great films of the golden age of modern cinema, the 1970s. 

Benton’s 1982 follow-up, Still of the Night, a psychological thriller with Roy Scheider and Streep in the lead roles, was a rare misfire for Benton, failing with critics and at the box office. It’s not a bad movie, but for whatever reason, it never achieves lift-off despite an intriguing premise. Benton rebounded strongly with the depression era farming drama, Places in the Heart, starring Sally Field as a single woman trying to live off the land in Texas with a blind boarder (John Malkovich), and a Black handyman (a terrific Danny Glover) who struggles with trying to find his place amongst the many racist townfolk around him. Benton won another Oscar, this time for Original Screenplay, and Field won the statue for Best Actress, giving the famous (infamous?) “You like me, you really like me” acceptance speech. 

The remainder of Benton’s career was more “miss” than “hit.” Nadine, a romantic comedy starring Jeff Bridges and Kim Basinger, and Billy Bathgate, a mob drama starring Hoffman as real-life gangster Dutch Schultz, both were commercial and critical disappointments. However, Benton’s next film, 1994’s Nobody’s Fool, saw Paul Newman give his final great lead performance of his extraordinary career as an aging man reflecting on his life and desire to extend his independence. Nobody’s Fool is a quiet little gem with a loaded cast including Bruce Willis, Melanie Griffith, Jessica Tandy, and a pre-fame Philip Seymour Hoffman giving sterling performances. It’s a deceptively simple film about growing older and deciding how you want to spend the rest of your life. Simple, but profound.

Newman and Benton teamed up again four years later with the ultra-downbeat private eye film Twilight. I admired the film immensely, and with a cast including Gene Hackman (whose bummer PI film from the ‘70s, Night Moves, Twilight echoes more than a little), Susan Sarandon, Stockard Channing, Reese Witherspoon, James Garner, Giancarlo Esposito, and Liev Schreiber, there is much to like about Twilight. It’s a film worthy of discovery and reassessment. 

2003’s adaptation of The Human Stain with Nicole Kidman and a miscast Anthony Hopkins must have seemed like a good idea on paper, and no one could fault the effort made by all involved, but the film is the rare true clunker on Benton’s resume. Benton received a co-writing credit on the deeply underrated 2005 comedic noir The Ice Harvest with John Cusack and Billy Bob Thornton as the leads. The scene where Oliver Platt walks in, crashes, and ruins a holiday dinner is an absolute howler. I don’t know how much of the scene Benton wrote himself, but it sure feels like it came from his quill.

2007 would bring Benton’s final credit, the financial failure, Feast of Love–a sweet, surprisingly sexy, and very human ensemble comedy with Morgan Freeman, Radha Mitchell, Greg Kinnear, Selma Blair, and Jane Alexander among many others in an extremely well-acted film that deserved better notices from critics. The film is brimming with kindness and humanity, and frequently quite funny. The relationship between Freeman and Alexander’s characters is particularly lovely. For all the variety in Benton’s very classy career, those attributes were almost always on display in his films.

Benton wasn’t just a marvelous writer and director but an acute observer of human nature. A filmmaker who knew how to entertain, tug at your heart without being cheap, and could work in seemingly any genre. Perhaps that’s why his genius wasn’t as appreciated as it should have been. His gifts were subtle, and his filmmaking seldom called attention to itself. He understood his characters, their flaws, their attributes, and failings. He was a storyteller, and a gifted one at that.

Robert Benton died on May 11, 2025. He was 92 years old.