This is possibly the saddest film I have ever seen; so underplayed and poignant. Both John Voight and Dustin Hoffman are superb and could not be bettered - so please, don't try a remake with any of today's actors.
I thought it might have shown its age, but It's stood up well to passing time. It's still a moving portrayal of an unlikely friendship, loneliness in the big city and the thin dividing line between life and death. It affected me as much 50 years later as it did when I first saw it.
It’s one of those films that feels like the end of something—the ‘60s., American innocence, the idea that dreams belong in cities. Watching it now, I’m struck by how tender it is, even in its grimiest moments. Hoffman’s Ratso is all bravado and broken teeth, while Voight plays Joe Buck like a man cosplaying his own fantasy. Their friendship is messy, codependent, and utterly moving.
That final bus ride still gets me: no grand speeches, just two men facing the quiet collapse of everything they hoped for. It’s daring in its depiction of poverty, sex, and failure, but what’s most readical is its empathy.
Honestly, knowing what I know now about Jon Voight’s politics and recent behaviour makes the thought of rewatching this, or any of his films a bit knotty. But he is brilliant here—earnest, fragile, and deeply human. One of those cases where the art survives the artist, even if it now feels like watching through a filter.