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I’m bettin’ on forgettin’ all the America that we knew…

Robert Redford says its his final film. That may say something else too.

That Redford might be hanging it up has the unmistakable feel of an era passing. For many, his face — from sandy-haired California boy to weathered mountain man — has charted half a century of something intrinsically American. His Sundance Kid, his Jeremiah Johnson, his Bob Woodward are figures of rigorous self-determination. From the young C.I.A. agent in “Three Days of the Condor” to the aged sailor in “All Is Lost,” they are smooth-sailing romantics whose quiet ways are violently capsized.

An unmistakable feel of an intrinsically American era passing.

Let that sink in. Try to deny it if you will. Eastwood is wrapping up what could be his final screen work. And what this signals is not just the end of two legendary movie careers. It’s something more. The intrinsically American part. No John Wayne. No Elvis. No television worth the watching. A “post literate” population little resembling the Posterity. Tweets…

So, what now?

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