Remembering Robert Redford: A Dance, A Horse, and a Lasting Grace

In the summer of 1997, I found myself in Montana, standing on the set of Robert Redford’s film The Horse Whisperer. I had been hired as choreographer, tasked with shaping a barn dance sequence that would become one of the film’s most quietly pivotal scenes. What I didn’t realize then was how deeply the experience would stay with me—because of the man at the center of it all.

Bob, as everyone called him, was a joy to work with. He was open, gracious, and endlessly attentive. Despite his legendary status, he arrived without ego, willing to learn, willing to laugh, and always curious. My role involved not only guiding a group of local Montanans cast as extras, but also working closely with Redford and his co-star, Kristin Scott Thomas, to craft the physical language of their dance together—a wordless conversation that carried immense emotional weight.

The work was not just about steps and rhythm. It was about character. We spent time exploring how Redford’s portrayal of Tom Booker—the quiet, wounded horseman—would move, hold himself, and connect to another person. In those moments, I watched him dig deep, always searching for authenticity. He brought the same dedication to dancing as he did to the film’s central theme: healing a troubled horse.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the production was observing Redford with the horse trainers. He listened intently, absorbing their knowledge, asking questions, studying the smallest details of how trust is built between human and animal. That same attentiveness carried over into the dance, where subtle gestures—a hand extended, a step taken back—spoke volumes.

After The Horse Whisperer, our paths crossed again, here and there. And each time, he was the same. He remembered. He took the time. He greeted me warmly, generous with his attention in a way that made you feel seen and valued.

For me, Robert Redford was more than a director or an actor. He was a man of work ethic, humility, and humanity. He gave us all so much—through his films, through his advocacy, through his quiet example of how to move through the world.

Today, as I look back on that Montana summer, I feel honored to have shared even a small piece of his journey. The barn dance may have lasted only a few minutes on screen, but the memory of creating it with him is something I will carry for a lifetime.

RIP Robert Redford. Thank you for the lessons, the kindness, and the grace.